The Library Annex

Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves;
And ye that on the sands with printless foot
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him
When he comes back; you demi-puppets that
By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make,
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose pastime
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, –
Weak master though you be, – I have bedimm’d
The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds,
And ‘twixt the green sea and the azured vault
Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder
Have I given fire, and rifted Jove’s stout oak
With his own belt: the strong-based promontory
Have I made shake: and by the spurs pluck’d up
The pine and cedar: graves, at my command,
Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let them forth
By my so potent art. But this rough magic
I here abjure: and, when I have required
Some heavenly music, – which even now I do, –
To work mine end upon their sense, that
This airycharm is for, I’ll break my staff,
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth,
And deeper than did ever plummet sound
I’ll drown my book.

I imagine Shakespeare announces his retirement and, to celebrate, hosts a party with a production of The Tempest. Audiences gather to pay homage to their beloved Bard who, for years, had entertained them on the stage with ideas of their better selves. I imagine Shakespeare himself playing the role of Prospero; for the preeminent man of words has no better way to articulate the dimensions of his life than through a play. The man of soliloquoys would not speak directly to an audience without a shroud of character. Those who recognize that Prospero is Shakespeare enjoy a deep connection to the playwright; relish his work, his toil and love, his personal sacrifice, his power, as well as his humane struggle in giving up his craft.

In the story, Prospero controls the tempest and the magic of the isle in the same way Shakespeare controls the fates and circumstances of his stories. The island represents Shakespeare’s plays, in which he envelopes himself during the writing and production process; secluded from the world and master of his own set of natural rules. Nature bends to his will as easily as paper to pen, its beauty only limited by his passionate imagination.

Be not afeard; the isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears; and sometimes voices,
That, if I then had waked after long sleep,
Will make me sleep again; and then, in dreaming,
The clouds, methought, would open and show riches
Ready to drop upon me: that, when I waked,
I cried to dream again.

Caliban

Shakespeare’s power is the tempest. Note how Caliban and others refer to Prospero’s constant dedication to study and his books. One speculates that Prospero derives his understanding and mastery of magic through this study; just as Shakespeare masters his own power in words and storytelling from his own study. Prospero teaches Caliban, a native to the island and heir to its lordship, words and language. Before Prospero’s arrival, Caliban was little more than an animal son to a witch. Perhaps Shakespeare credits himself for enlightening his contemporaries and bringing art to the English language. While this sounds arrogant, pause to consider Caliban’s hatred for Prospero and Prospero handing the island back to Caliban.

If Prospero is an obvious symbol for Shakespeare himself, what can the audience learn about Shakespeare by following Prospero’s story? Prospero loves Miranda above all else. I imagine she personifies Shakespeare’s love for his craft. She is unblemished by other human relationships and influence, entirely his, and yet he must give her up to Ferdinand. By comparing the feelings of a father giving his daughter’s hand in marriage to Shakespeare’s love of plays, one sympathizes dramatically with the raw and imperfect struggle in Shakespeare’s acquittal from his craft.

Our revels now are ended: these our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits, and
Are melted into air, into thin air:
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision
The cloud-capp’d towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
Yea, all which it inherit, shall disolve,
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind: We are such stuff
As dreams are made of, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.

Prospero

One understands his inner conflict between loving something perfect, personally sacred, and relinquishing control of it as its own entity. What drove Shakespeare to give her hand? He makes ominous reference to limited time and the temporary nature of his control.

Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick,
Yet, with my nobler reason, ‘gainst my fury
Do I take part: the rarer action is
In virtue than in vengeance: they being patient,
the sole drift of my purose doth extend
Not a frown further.

Prospero

Either Shakespeare felt quite literally wronged by those around him, or he embraces the sad struggle of a character, normally god-like in his control, acknowledging his limitations. He entitles the play The Tempest because he reveres the power and beauty of the craft itself and knows he only employs it temporarily.

During the epilogue, Prospero speaks directly to the audience. The veil has been slashed to such an extreme that the audience ought to recognize Prospero only as the human face that had performed throughout the play. They all likely see Shakespeare himself.

Now my charms are all o’erthrown
And what strength I have’s mine own, –
Which is most faint: now ’tis true,
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples. Let me not,
Since I have dukedom got,
And pardon’d the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell;
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands.
Gentle breath of your my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please. Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending is despair
Unless I be relieved by prayer;
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardon’d be,
Let your indulgence set me free.

Prospero

With this last reading of The Tempest, I’ve completed reading and studying each of Shakespeare’s plays. This play concludes my journey, and it feels as though Shakespeare speaks directly to me. Perhaps my interpretation is primarily influenced by my personal time with him over the years. But if I misinterpret The Tempest, I do so gladly as it matters so much more to me than any alternative.