Forgiveness and Reconciliation in The Tempest

Many scholars argue that, along with Shakespeare’s other late romances, The Tempest is a play about
reconciliation, forgiveness, and faith in future generations to seal such reconciliation. However, while it is clear
that the theme of forgiveness is at the heart of the drama, what is up for debate is to what extent the author
realizes this forgiveness. An examination of the attitudes and actions of the major characters in the play,
specifically Prospero, illustrates that there is little, if any, true forgiveness and reconciliation in The Tempest.

We must first set a standard by which to judge the effectiveness of forgiveness in the play. Undoubtedly, the
most important Christian lesson on the true nature of forgiveness can be found in Christ’s Sermon on the Mount:

But I say to unto you which hear, love your

enemies, do good to them which hate
you
Bless them that curse you, and pray for them
which despiseth you… For if ye love them
which love you, what thank have ye? For
sinners also do even the same. But love
your enemies, and do good, and lend,
hoping for nothing again… (Luke 6:27-35)

Prospero’s conduct from the moment the play begins seems to contradict the basic tenets of Christian
forgiveness. Fortune has brought his enemies within his grasp and Prospero seizes the opportunity for revenge.
“Desire for vengeance has apparently lain dormant in Prospero through the years of banishment, and now, with
the sudden advent of his foes, the great wrong of twelve years before is stirringly present again, arousing the
passions and stimulating the will to action” (Davidson 225). While it is true that Prospero does not intend to
harm anyone on the ship, and asks his servant sprite with all sincerity, "But are they, Ariel, safe?" (1.1.218), he
does not hesitate to put the men through the agony of what they believe is a horrible disaster resulting in the
death of Prince Ferdinand. Prospero insists that those who wronged him suffer for their crimes, before he
offers them his forgiveness, even if it means innocent and noble men, like Gonzalo, suffer as well. Later in the
drama Ariel tells Prospero that "The good old lord, Gonzalo/His tears run down his beard" (5.1.15-6), and it is
Ariel’s plea that convinces Prospero to end their misery: "if you now beheld them / Your affections would
become tender" (5.1.19-20).

Some critics believe that, through Ariel’s expression of genuine concern for the shipwrecked men, Prospero
undergoes a transformation – that he comes to a "Christ-like" realization (Solomon 232). A close reading of the
magician’s response reveals that his newfound regard for the command "love thine enemies" comes after he
has achieved his revenge:

…the rarer action is

In virtue than in
vengeance: they being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frown further.

Prospero feels free to forgive those who sinned against him only after he has emerged triumphant and has seen
the men, now mournful and "penitent", pay for their transgressions. Further evidence to support the claim that
Prospero’s quality of mercy is strained, and that a truly sincere reconciliation fails to develop, comes when
Prospero finally confronts King Alonso, Sebastian, and Antonio and announces that he is the right Duke of
Milan.
Prospero hopes that his plan to shipwreck the King and his courtiers will result in both their ultimate
acceptance of him as Duke and their deep apologies for wronging him. But King Alonso’s initial reaction is not
profound regret for setting Prospero out to sea in a rickety boat and stealing his title, but profound relief that
someone on the island, be he real or no, has bid him a "hearty welcome" (5.1.89). Alonso does ask Prospero to
pardon his wrongs, but the regret seems perfunctory and matter-of-fact, rather than genuine. It seems that
Alonso’s only true regret is that his betrayal of Prospero has resulted in the loss of his son, Ferdinand.
Nevertheless, Alonso’s brief and conciliatory "pardon me" is enough to please Prospero: "First, noble friend/Let
me embrace thine age, whose honor cannot be measured or confined" (5.1.124-6). This exchange of
pleasantries confirms Prospero’s penchant for forgiveness and the reconciliation of the two men, but only in
the most superficial sense. And does Prospero truly forgive those who "hate" him? His reaction to Antonio
speaks volumes:

For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother

Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive
Thy rankest fault, -- all of them; and require
My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know,
Thou must restore. (5.1.130-4)

Prospero goes through the motions of forgiveness, but his sincerity is lost to us. Moreover, there is clearly no
reconciliation amongst Prospero, Sebastian, and Antonio. Prospero still considers Antonio a "most wicked sir"
(5.1.130) and Antonio, focussed on slaying the island fiends, will not even acknowledge Prospero.

A thorough discussion of the themes of forgiveness and reconciliation in the play must consider Prospero’s
treatment of Caliban. When Prospero came to the island he taught Caliban his language and mannerisms. At the
beginning Caliban welcomed Prospero, delighting in the attention he would receive: "Thou strok’st me, and
made much of me" (1.2.334). In return, Caliban showed Prospero "all the qualities o’ th’ isle" (1.2.339), as there
was little else he could give his new master. But Caliban, in an expression of his natural instincts, tried to ravage
Miranda. It is an atrocious deed, but, to Caliban, it is a basic biological urge, springing from no premeditation
but his simple desire to procreate, and can be equated to the crimes of a child, which is itself an ironic
juxtaposition. Caliban is "unlike the incontinent man, whose appetites subdue his will, and the malicious man,
whose will is perverted to evil ends" (Kermode xlii). Caliban is, in fact, "the bestial man [with] no sense of right
and wrong, and therefore sees no difference between good and evil. His state is less guilty” (Kermode xlii).
While he should have taken measures to prevent such an occurrence from ever happening again, Prospero goes
further to ensure that Caliban pay dearly for his actions. He threatens continually to "rack [him] with old
cramps" (1.2.371), and confines him "in this hard rock" (1.2.345) away from the rest of the island. For Caliban
Prospero has no mercy or forgiveness. Prospero brands him "a born devil, on whose name/Nurture can never
stick" (4.1.188-9), and vows, "I will plague them all" (4.1.192). It is also true that Caliban is guilty of planning
the murder of Prospero after he finds a new master, Stephano, whom, he believes, will treat him better than
Prospero. But, again, Caliban, in his primitive (and drunken) state cannot be held accountable. Even though
Prospero understands that Caliban’s bad behaviour is like that of a child, he does not offer mercy and
forgiveness as freely and earnestly as one should. The best Prospero can do is couch a rather lackluster pardon
inside a command:

Go, sirrah, to my cell;

Take with you your companions; as you look
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. (5.1.292)

Shakespeare no doubt understood that ending the play with this sour meeting would leave the reader wanting,
so he crafts the union of Miranda and Ferdinand as a vehicle by which the two fathers can further their
reconciliation. It is fitting that the most innocent and virtuous of all the characters in the play, Gonzalo, should
express the most hope for the future:
Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his
Issue
Should become kings of Naples? O rejoice
Beyond a common joy, and set it down
With gold on lasting pillars: in one voyage
Did Claribel her husband find at Tunis,
And Ferdinand her brother found a wife
Where he himself was lost: Prospero his dukedom
In a poor isle; and all of us ourselves,
Where no man was his own. (5.1.204-12)

With these words of hope invested in the new royal couple, Alonso and Prospero rejoice together as the play
comes to a close. But, despite the traditional happy ending befitting a Shakespeare comedy, ultimately, we are
left with the feeling that true forgiveness and reconciliation have not been realized.

References

Davidson, Frank. The Tempest: An Interpretation. In The Tempest: A Casebook. Ed. D.J. Palmer. London:
Macmillan & Co. Ltd., 1968.
Kermode, Frank. Introduction. The Tempest. By William Shakespeare. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1958.
Solomon, Andrew. A Reading of the Tempest. In Shakespeare’s Late Plays. Ed. Richard C. Tobias and Paul G.
Zolbrod. Athens: Ohio UP, 1974.
Shakespeare, William. The Tempest. Ed. Frank Kermode. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1958.

Magic, Books, and the Supernatural in Shakespeare's Tempest

From Shakespeare's Comedy of The Tempest. Ed. William J. Rolfe. New York: American Book Company, 1904.

In reading The Tempest we must bear in mind that the belief in magic and witchcraft was in Shakespeare's day
an established article in the popular creed, and accepted by the great majority of the cultivated and learned. To
attack it was a bold thing to do, and few writers had ventured it. In 1583 Howard, Earl of Northampton,
published hisDefensative against the Poyson of Supposed Propheciesand in 1584 Reginald Scot brought out
his Discoverie of Witchcraft in which, with great learning and ability, he exposed the pretensions of the
magicians and their craft. He made many enemies by it; and James I ordered all the copies of it that could be
found to be burned by the public hangman. In 1603 the king published his own book onDaemonologie, in the
preface to which he asserts that he wrote the book "chiefly against the damnable opinions of Wierus 1 and
Scot." Richard Bernard, an eminent Puritan divine, also took Scot to task in his Guide to Grand Jurymen with
respect to Witches (1627); as also did Joseph Glanvil (in his Blow at Modern Sadducism, etc.) and sundry other
authors of the time. Burton, in his Anatomy of Melancholy (1621), records that magic, in which he appears to
have been a believer himself, is "practised by some now;" and he says that the Roman emperors "were never so
much addicted to magic of old as some of our modern princes and popes are nowadays."

We have no reason to suppose that Shakespeare believed in magic. From his 14th Sonnet we may infer that he
did not believe even in astrology, as most people did long after his day; and yet Prospero is the grandest
conception of the magician to be found in all our literature. The delineation is in strict accordance with the
prevalent theory of the magic art, and yet it is so ennobled and idealized that in our day, when that theory is
reckoned among the dead superstitions of a bygone age, we see nothing mean or unworthy in it.

Prospero belongs to the higher order of magicians — those who commanded the services of superior
intelligences — in distinction from those who, by a league made with Satan, submitted to be his instruments,
paying for the enjoyment of the supernatural power thus gained the price of their souls' salvation. The former
class of magicians, as Scot remarks, "professed an art which some fond [foolish] divines affirm to be more
honest and lawful than necromancy, wherein they work by good angels." Thus we find Prospero exercising his
power over elves and goblins through the medium of Ariel, a spirit "too delicate to act the abhorr'd commands"
of the foul witch Sycorax, but who answered his best pleasure and obeyed his "strong bidding."

The poet has, moreover, given to Prospero some of the ordinary adjuncts of the professional magician of the
time. Peculiar virtue was inherent in his robe, according to Scot and other writers; and we find Prospero saying
to Miranda:—

"Lend thy hand

And pluck my magic garment from me;"
and as it is laid aside he adds, "Lie there, my art."

His wand also, as in the case of ordinary conjurors, was a potent instrument. With it he renders Ferdinand
helpless:—

"I can here disarm thee with this stick.

And make thy weapon drop."
And when he abjures his art be is to break his staff and "bury it certain fathoms in the earth," lest it should fall
into hands that might not use it as wisely and beneficently as he has done.

His books were of yet greater importance to his art; and these the old magicians were supposed to guard with
the utmost care. Scot says: "These conjurors carry about at this day books intituled under the names of Adam,
Abel, Toby, and Enoch; which Enoch they repute the most divine fellow in such matters. They have also among
them books that they say Abraham, Aaron, and Solomon made;... also of the angels, Riziel, Razael, and Raphael."
Hence, we find Prospero saying:—

"I'll to my book,
For yet ere supper-time must I perform
Much matter appertaining;"
and he is to drown his book "deeper than did ever plummet sound," when he breaks his staff, and for the same
reason.2 Caliban, too, says:—
"Remember
First to possess his books; for without them
He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not
One spirit to command."
But while Shakespeare has thus given actuality to his noble magician by these externals of his art, he has
avoided introducing the vulgar machinery connected with it. We are not shown how his spells are wrought.
The silence requisite for their success — a condition associated with the most ancient accounts of the magic art
— is insisted upon:—
"Hush, and be mute,
Or else our spell is marr'd."
Had not the poet observed a like reticence as to the details of the enchantments, his spell over us had been
marred. If he had introduced the forms and ceremonies of conjuration and adjuration described by Scot, the
effect would have been either ludicrous or disgusting. In Macbeth where the Witches were meant to appear the
black and midnight hags they really were, we have all the details of their infernal cuisine. The hell-broth is
concocted before our eyes, and aU the foul and poisonous ingredients are enumerated in the song the beldams
croak as they dance about the cauldron. But here in The Tempest the spells and incantations are only hinted at:
"my charms crack not," "my spirits obey," "untie the spell," etc. In the one case the art of the poet is as
conspicuous in what it hides as in the other in what it reveals.
The spirits were of various orders, according to their abode or sphere of operation, "whether," to quote Hamlet
"in sea or fire, in earth or air," the four ancient "elements." In the storm Ariel plays the part of a fire-spirit,
"dividing and burning in many places" till the ship was all ablaze with him. Water-spirits or sea-nymphs sing
the knell of Ferdinand's father in the ditty that deceives the weeping prince; and later Prospero invokes the
elves of brooks and standing lakes, and those that "on the sands with printless feet do chase the ebbing
Neptune." The earth-spirits, or goblins, are the ones set upon Caliban to torment him; and air-spirits are the
musicians of the supernatural realm over which the magician holds dominion, filling the air at his bidding with
sweet strains beyond the touch of mortal art.

Over all this spirit world Prospero bears sovereign rule by the power of a commanding intellect. His subjects
are "weak masters," he says; that is, weak individually, weak in the capacity for combining to make the most of
their ability to do certain things that men cannot do. Prospero knows how to make them work in carrying out
his far-reaching plans. "By your aid" he says, "weak masters, though ye be," I have wrought the marvels of my
art.

Shakespeare, while, as I have said, he has managed the supernatural part of the play in strict accordance with
the theories of that day concerning magic, has at the same time avoided everything that was ridiculous or
revolting in the popular belief. He thus exercises, as it were, a magic power over the vulgar magic, lifting it from
prose into poetry; and while doing this he has contrived to make it all so entirely consistent with what we may
conceive of as possible to human science and skill that it seems as real as it is marvellous. It is at once
supernatural and natural. It is the highest exercise of the magic art, and yet it all goes on with as little jar to our
credulity as the ordinary sequence of events in our everyday life.

Sundry attempts have been made to prove The Tempestan allegory, but Shakespeare had no such intention. The
human characters are men and women distinctly individualized, not abstractions personified. Prospero, great
as he is both as man and as magician, is not perfect, — not the ideal type of human genius and character, and
not absolute master of himself. This is the explanation of something in the second scene which has puzzled and
misled some of the commentators, and of which no one of them, so far as I am aware, has given the correct
interpretation. When Prospero is telling Miranda the story of her early life, why does he again and again charge
her with being inattentive to a narration in which it is impossible that she should not be intensely interested? If
we could have any doubt on this point, it ought to be removed by her evident surprise that he could suppose
her a careless or indifferent listener to so thrilling a tale. It is amazing that two critics at least should have taken
the ground that Miranda is not listening attentively.

Her thoughts, they agree in telling us, are wandering off to the foundered ship and the unfortunate folk in it, for
whom her tender heart was so deeply moved when she witnessed the shipwreck. A keener critic gets
somewhat nearer the truth when he says, "He thinks she is not listening attentively to his speech, partly
because he is not attending to it himself, his thoughts being busy with the approaching crisis of his fortune, and
drawn away to the other matters which he has in hand, and partly because in her trance of wonder at what he
is relating she seems abstracted and self-withdrawn from the matter of his discourse." But it is not mere mental
abstraction on his part, — if, indeed, this were possible in telling the tale of his "high wrongs," — nor is
Prospero the man to mistake entranced wonder for lack of interest and attention. His error is simply due to
nervous excitement, which, as in meaner mortals, makes him irritable, impatient, and unreasonable.
Shakespeare has given us varied and abundant evidence that this crisis in his fortunes is a tremendous strain
upon his powers, and he almost breaks down under it. It does overcome his ordinary steadiness of nerve and
tranquillity of spirit. It is this that makes him so unjust to Miranda, and, in the latter part of the same scene, so
impatient with Ariel when the tricksy spirit ventures to remind him of the promise to set him free ere long.
Prospero himself is not unconscious of the weakness later, when he says to Ferdinand (and Miranda):—

"Sir, I am vex'd;
Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled
Be not disturb'd with my infirmity.
If you be pleas'd, retire into my cell,
And there repose; a turn or two I'll walk,
To still my beating mind."
When Prospero, usually so self-poised and self-possessed, speaks thus, we get some notion of the mental strain,
the terrible suspense and anxiety, of these three hours, on which his whole future life and that of his beloved
daughter are dependent.

It is also to be noted that Prospero, mighty magician though he be, has no power to bring two young hearts to
beat as one. He cannot make Ferdinand and Miranda love each other. He can bid Ariel bring them together; but,
that done, he can only watch with paternal fondness and hope to see whether all goes on as his soul prompts it.
But, it may be said, the notion that love could be excited by magic arts is old and familiar; and we find it more
than once in Shakespeare. Why, then, did not Prospero exercise his art upon Ferdinand and Miranda, and thus
settle in advance one at least of the uncertainties of that anxious day? One critic, who is rarely astray in a case
like this, believes that he did play the magician here. "In the planting of love," he says, "Ariel beats old god Cupid
all to nothing; for it is through some witchcraft of his that Ferdinand and Miranda are surprised into a mutual
rapture." The misconception is a gross one, — gross in a double sense. Love could indeed be awakened by
magic, according to the ancient theory of the art; but it was only love in the lower animal sense that was thus
excited. The purer, nobler passion was beyond the control of wizard or necromancer; and Prospero. It is quite
unnecessary to say, could never descend to the base devices of those who, having gained a measure of
superhuman power by a compact with the great adversary of souls, became the ministers of his dark purposes.
Almost any other dramatist of that day might have been willing to admit this as a prelude to a more honorable
love (we find things not unlike it in the plays of the time), but Shakespeare never so degrades his mighty magic.

In this, as in other respects, Prospero is like his creator, though not, as some have supposed, intended to be the
portrait of that creator.

____

FOOTNOTE 1: This Wierus was John van Wier (or Weier), a distinguished Dutch physician (1515-1558), who is
said to have been the first writer to oppose the belief in witchcraft, by his work entitled De Praestigiis
Daemonum et Incantationibus ac Venefciis (1563).

FOOTNOTE 2: So, in The Lay of the Last Minstrel, the old monk tells Deloraine how Michael Scott on his dying
bed gave orders that his magic book should be buried:—

"I swore to bury his Mighty Book,

That never mortal might therein look,
And never to tell where it was hid,
Save at his Chief of Branksome's need."

The Tempest - Prospero as Ruler

"In the character of Prospero in The Tempest Shakespeare presents the ideal ruler: one who reconciles
power over the outer world with power over the self." How far do you agree?

Prospero's magical powers allow him to single-handedly take control of a situation of slowly developing chaos,
caused by his eviction from Milan, and turn the plot of The Tempest towards comedy by sheer force [not
entirely accurate]. That he has powers over his surroundings, far greater than those of an ordinary mortal, is
incontestable, as is the fact that he uses them for good in the course of the play. However, it remains to be
asked whether Prospero combines his magic with power over the self, and whether Shakespeare actually
presents him as an ideal ruler.

Although we hear the story of Prospero's eviction from Milan from him, the manner in which he tells his history
inspires distrust -- Prospero is pompous, self-pitying and apparently unforgiving. The nature of
Prospero's rule as revealed by Act I is not pleasant. When duke of Milan, he trusted his brother Antonio
too much, and consequently nearly lost his life, as well as his dukedom. On the island, he befriended
Caliban, brought him into his house and treated him as a member of the family -- and repeated the pattern of
trust, which was again betrayed, when Caliban attempted to rape Miranda. Although Prospero learns from
this second betrayal, he goes to the other extreme. Prospero's apparently tyrannical stance is revealed in
his exile and verbal abuse of Caliban, as well as his tirade and threat to imprison Ariel again "till / Thou hast
howl'd away twelve winters".

Aside from the sin of tyranny, Prospero also seems unforgiving towards Caliban and Antonio. When we see
Caliban willingly serving Stephano and Trinculo, we begin to realise that Caliban is not evil of himself, and could
in fact be a most affectionate servant. Seeing Caliban fear cramps and speak of Prospero as a "tyrant",
Shakespeare implies that the fault of alienating Caliban lies with Prospero's failure to understand Caliban's
limitations and accept them, while teaching him to be what he can achieve. Furthermore, Prospero's
treatment of the court party seems to show that he is interested only in frightening them, and at this point we
do not realise that he wants to educate them. When we see Alonso dashing offstage apparently to kill himself,
we can only assume that Prospero wants to take his revenge on the relatively blameless Alonso by allowing
him to commit suicide. As yet, we have heard no other speech from Prospero about his intentions for the court
party except for the long history he told to Miranda, when he called Alonso "an enemy / To me inveterate"
and spoke bitterly at great length about Antonio.

Prospero is also consistently self-indulgent and vain. At the beginning of the play, he calls himself "poor man"
in his story to Miranda, and answers her question in extremely long-winded fashion, suiting his own wishes
rather than hers. Although he says that his only care has been to serve Miranda, the first thing we see after that
is Miranda serving him by helping him take his cloak off -- implying hypocrisy. When Stephano's party is
getting ready to kill Prospero and the court party is apparently going to commit mass suicide, aided by
Antonio, Prospero indulges his vain desire to show off his art to his children, and make the most of it before
he gives it up. Even at the end, we are slightly uneasy at Prospero's desire to tell everyone his life story -- a
wish that seems somewhat selfish.

However, this has been but one side of the coin. Although Prospero appears tyrannical at the beginning of the
play, our impressions of him change drastically by the end. His last lines to Ariel are that once he has blown
them safely home, he is free; and at a point when Ariel again reminds him of his promise, he reacts calmly,
unlike his earlier outburst. We also discover that while Prospero has punished Caliban ever since his offence, he
has also constantly searched for an opportunity to educate him further; and it begins to seem likely that
Prospero only waited until the arrival of the court party because he could not have provided, by himself, the
opportunity for Caliban to educate himself. This seems to invalidate, to some extent, Caliban's accusation that
Prospero is a "tyrant" -- he may be an absolute monarch, but he does care for and educate his subjects. Also, in
the end, Prospero accepts Caliban -- "this thing of darkness I acknowledge mine" -- and forgives Antonio,
even to the point of not revealing his murder plot to Alonso, although we are confident, from his behaviour
during the play, that Prospero himself will not watch over Antonio. [?]

For Prospero's self-indulgence and vanity there seems little excuse. It is the only factor that may interfere with
his rule in Milan. However, this is a minor fault when held in check by his other virtues. He genuinely cares for
his subjects -- witness the fact that he does not give up on the task of educating Caliban, and carries that out
at the same time as he undertakes the delicate task of educating the court party. The cruelty he shows to
Ferdinand and his failure to heed Miranda's plea for mercy is done for a good reason -- he is willingly giving
her away to seek her new life. His use of his magic, while done at times to indulge himself, is always for some
greater purpose that involves others. Even the masque's main objective is to warn Ferdinand and Miranda,
not to amuse himself. In Prospero, by concealing part of the truth at first, Shakespeare shows us the
development of Prospero's character while on the island, from excessively trustful, to tyrannical, to a man who
is willing to forgive. By the end of the play, Prospero indeed combines power over himself with power over
the outer world. Although this does put him in an ideal position to lead, Prospero is brought to a point where he
develops control over himself, rather than being presented as such a character immediately.

However, it must be noted that at the end of the play, Prospero gives up his magic. Shakespeare clearly wants
us to see this as a good and necessary action. Magic has set Prospero above the human hierarchy, has made
him into a demi-god. This is no more a natural or appropriate position for Prospero than a place as a member of
Prospero's family was for Caliban. Although this power has given Prospero great power to lead the others on
the island, it has been in the nature of a god that he has led. In order for Prospero to become an ideal human
leader, he must give up "this rough magic", and consent to allow his power to flow only from the loyalty of his
people.

Shakespeare does not present us the perfect ruler immediately. Instead, he develops Prospero from a basically
good, but flawed man, to one who, although retaining some vanity and therefore is not perfect, will certainly act
in a manner befitting an ideal leader.

The Tempest - Prospero Context

Act I, Sc ii, lines 79-116. From "Being once perfected how to grant suits" to "To most ignoble stooping"]

Paying close attention to tone & imagery, comment on the presentation of Prospero and important
ideas in the play raised here.

We are presented with the highly emotional and angst-filled account of past times in Milan narrated by the
main protagonist of The Tempest, Prospero. The turbulence in his tale reminds us of the equally disturbing
tempest in the previous scene with its general mood of disorder and destruction. Although there are no
physical indication of violence as in the last scene, Prospero's report is coloured with such images. It is here, in
Act 1 Scene 2 that we learn that Prospero's "art" had conjured up the "tempestuous" storm. Miranda's "piteous
heart" demands a salvation for the "poor souls" onboard the ship but her father, the great magician, Prospero
promises that, "there's no harm done". He proclaims, "tis' time" and sets out to explain his motive for
raising The Tempest that is the driving force of the entire play.

As he speaks of the past, Prospero is no doubt reliving every single detail "in the dark backward and absym of
time". He seems to have vengeance on his mind right now. Old wounds are cruelly re-opened and he re-
experiences the bitterness of betrayal by is "false brother" and the pain of what had happened "twelve year
since". At the same time, he is also stirring up lost memories in Miranda's "remembrance". We see
Shakespeare's magic at work as well while he deftly weaves the plot into his audience's mind. Every time
Prospero calls Miranda to attention, Shakespeare speaks through the lips of his creation to his audience, "Thou
attend'st not?" Taking on the voice of father, magician and "prince of power", the bard leads us straight into the
crux of The Tempest of Prospero's voice.

The usurped Duke of Milan speaks of the usurper, Antonio most vividly, using myriad images. We picture
Antonio's brilliance in politics as Prospero tells of how his brother "being once perfected how to grant suits,
how to deny them, who t' advance and which to trash for over-topping" supplanted him. He presents us with a
hunting image as he acknowledges Antonio's skill & compliments him. Prospero uses a number of images in his
speech to let us see Antonio as a political animal. He shows us how "having both the key of the officer and
office" Antonio gained supporters and got rid of opposers. This double image aptly portrayed how he not only
secured the authority entrusted to him; he also had the ability to assert that power to his own means -- "set all
hearts i'th' state to what tune pleas'd his ear". At the same time, we notice that the play is one that rings of
music, this is only one instance where music is mentioned. [Good] It is a recurring motif. He maneuvers his way
into nature when he informs Miranda (and the audience) of "the ivy which hid my princely trunk and suck'd my
vendure out on't". We see in our minds' eye the devious Antonio who sucked the power out of his brother's
welcoming hands and so, his life, leaving only a dry shell. Through the use of such imagery, Shakespeare unfolds
the passionate tale of usurpation before the "wondrous" Miranda and us, the audience.

The wise Prospero speaks of how he had laid himself wide open to harm in "being transported and rapt in
secret studies". "Neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated to closeness and the bettering of his mind" he entrusted
Milan into the hands of his treacherous brother and in doing so, "awak'd an evil nature" in his false brother. Not
contented with his position, Antonio "new created the creatures that were mine, chang'd 'em or else new
form'd 'em" and "confederates wi'th King of Naples" to bend Milan "to most ignoble stooping". It is obvious that
Prospero was not conscious of what Antonio was doing and so, we, the sympathetic listeners feel for him
although we know that he is partly at fault for his downfall. Prospero's anger and feelings of vengeance is
understandable but we know that "there's no harm done". At the same time, as we listen to the usurped fling
charge after charge at the amoral usurper like the sea waves beating relentlessly at the "yellow sands",
Shakespeare questions the Prospero's usurpation of the "creatures" of the island -- Caliban and
Ariel. [Good] We find out later that the powerful mage subjects the "most delicate monster", Caliban to "most
ignoble stooping" and even the "fine apparition", Ariel is not spared from the magic of Prospero who has him at
his beck and call. They cry for liberty but do they receive it from the usurped "master"? This is another of the
important ideas raised in the play.

Miranda listens attentively to her father as he relives how he had placed his trust mistakenly on Antonio, "like a
good parent" and how it "beget of him a falsehood in its contrary". "He needs will be absolute Milan." This
convoluted image reminds us of how the unknowing Caliban had placed his trust and "loved thee and showed
thee all the qualities o' th' isle." The situation of Prospero "twelve year since" mirrors that of the "abhorred
slave", Caliban. Meanwhile, it also presents Antonio and Prospero as complex political creatures surviving in
the "realism" of politics. The usurped did not refrain from usurping others in a different place and time. Here,
we see the men as truly brothers because they are alike in their usurpation. The only difference lies in
Prospero's benevolence in his decision towards reconciliation. We are given enough to be sure that Antonio
will never consider the very idea because he "made a sinner of his own memory". The man created and shaped
his own reality to suit his means and this is another recurring motif in the play. [Good]

We have seen how the people are unable to see through the illusion of the "tempest" and sometimes, they just
do not understand their own reality because they do not want to see it. Prospero has made use of that
weakness to "recover" his dukedom as he brings the plotters, Antonio, Sebastian and Alonso to the island for a
lesson. We will meet the king of Naples who despairs of ever finding his beloved son, Ferdinand
after The Tempest and refuses to entertain the hope of seeing him again but we know he does in the end. Power,
"all prerogative" had gone into the plotters' heads and this veils the actual reality to become another reality in
the mind. We encounter another motif in the play, that of fathers. We know that although the fathers (Prospero
and Antonio) are enemies, they will forget their differences in the union of their child (Ferdinand and Miranda)
eventually. [Good]

This tale that "would cure deafness" is the stepping stone of the entire play and we are presented with a multi-
faceted Prospero -- the magician who usurps, the wronged who was usurped, the avenger, the father, the
master, the duke. Can we really define him? Shakespeare leaves that intriguing thought in our minds as we take
leave of this account full of "imagistic" qualities and themes.