interpreting prospero – an enigmatic creation
From colonialist bully to loving father and from allegorical figure to natural
leader, Prospero has attracted a wealth of different interpretations. Angus
Ledingham suggests that in trying to ‘decode’ his character, we may be missing
the point.
The character of Prospero in The Tempest is one which lends itself well to different critical readings.
His status as a colonist on the island has made the play an object of great interest to postcolonial critics,
while his apparent resemblance to Shakespeare’s other ‘wronged princes’ – the Duke in As You Like It
being a notable example – can be used to justify a view of the play as an apology for ‘legitimate’
princely power. In fact, regarding Prospero simply as a warning against imperial aggression or as an
apology for tyranny falls wide of the mark; Prospero is a fundamentally enigmatic creation whose
‘true’ self is largely concealed, meaning that any attempt to pin down the character, politically or
otherwise, will have inevitable limitations.
The imperialism of language
This is not to say that such approaches lack value; for example, the argument that the relationship
between Prospero and Caliban can be interpreted as a representation of imperialism can be justified by
reference to the text. The way in which Prospero uses the ‘gift’ of language to dominate Caliban is
analogous to ‘cultural’ imperialism, the suggestion being that, by using Prospero’s language, Caliban is
remoulded in the image of his master. Just as Stephano comically imitates the behaviour of his social
superiors, telling Trinculo ‘I thank thee for that jest, here’s a garment for’t’ in a satirical echo of courtly
patronage, Caliban’s violent language – ‘thou may’st knock a nail into his head’ – can be interpreted as
an imitation of his master’s lurid threats:
I’ll rack thee with old cramps,
Fill all thy bones with aches, make thee roar
That beasts shall tremble at thy din.
A flawed reading?
However, the colonial analogy is not an entirely appropriate one; as David Lindley points out, Caliban
himself is a colonist on an island which originally belonged to Ariel, suggesting that the relationship
between magician and monster was not a straightforward commentary on seventeenth-century empire
building. The argument that Prospero was intended as an exploitative tyrant over the ‘innocent’ native
Caliban is also a flawed one; while Prospero’s treatment of his servant can seem abhorrent to modern
audiences, this should not be confused with Shakespeare’s intentions. While Prospero’s lines:
But as ‘tis
We cannot miss him. He does make our fire,
Fetch in our wood, and serves in offices
That profit us
now have connotations of economic exploitation, particularly the relation of Caliban’s labour to
‘profit,’ Jacobean audiences would not have viewed master-servant relations in the same way. What
would have had more of an impact is Prospero’s claim that:
I have used thee,
Filth as thou art, with humane care, and lodged thee
In mine own cell.
This benevolent treatment of his servants would have contrasted comically with Prospero’s brief
enslavement of Ferdinand, a member of the nobility. The view that Shakespeare presents Prospero as a
good master is supported by the contrast between him and Sycorax. Whereas Ariel was willing to
endure punishment for refusing to obey Sycorax’s ‘earthly and abhorred commands’, he willingly
follows Prospero’s instructions.
Natural authority
The suggestion that Prospero is in fact a good master could be used to support an alternative, and more
traditional, interpretation; that Prospero represents virtuous, natural authority, contrasting with the
corruption of the usurping Antonio. Again there is textual support for such an interpretation,
particularly the view that the political structure over which Prospero presides is ‘natural’; he says that
when he arrived on the island he ‘was landed/To be the lord on’t’. The fact that the society on his
island appears to be a model of a seventeenth-century European kingdom, dominated by a patriarchal
ruler with absolute power, suggests that Gonzalo’s hope that such a setting could be the cradle of a new
political system is misguided; Prospero’s style of rule is one to which subjects are fundamentally
suited. This seems consistent with prevailing trends of both Renaissance and scholastic political theory
– that human nature necessitated certain forms of government. However, this emphasis on the play’s
philosophical context runs the risk of ignoring the play itself. While the play presents no overt
challenge to the ‘legitimate’ form of authority represented by Prospero, Shakespeare’s critical
presentation of his character can hardly be called a wholehearted endorsement of such authority either.
Contemporary anxieties and a veiled critique
An example of veiled criticism on Shakespeare’s part can be found in Prospero’s own account of
himself:
The government I cast upon my brother,
And to my state grew stranger, being transported
And rapt in secret studies
This is a possible allusion to contemporary anxieties about King James I. Prospero’s description of
himself as the ‘prime duke’ would not have been well regarded by a Jacobean audience, since it
suggests a division of princely power; Antonio recalls James’s ‘overmighty subjects’ – favoured
courtiers who were perceived as wielding excessive influence. Prospero’s ‘secret studies’ also suggest
an allusion to James as the scholar king, who was seen as preoccupied with learning at the expense of
governing (this may explain why, in Gonzalo’s utopia, ‘letters should not be known’).
A bad ruler?
In the scene involving the attempted murder of Alonso, which parallels Prospero’s usurpation, it is
worth noting that the moral case for the removal of bad rulers (an idea which was not heretical in
Jacobean England) is made; Antonio claims that Alonso is ‘no better than the earth he lies upon.’
While Shakespeare does not seem to present either usurpation as justified – in Act 3 Scene 3 Ariel
describes to Alonso, Sebastian and Antonio the almost universal revulsion at their crimes – the very
fact that Antonio makes this argument, rather than simply appealing to Sebastian’s ambition, reinforces
the suggestion that bad rulers are a genuine phenomenon and that Prospero could be one of them.
While it would be wrong to present The Tempest as a radical republican text, it cannot be denied that
its presentation of Prospero’s authority is ambivalent; his implied blackmail of Antonio and Sebastian
following his restoration hardly sets the tone for a just polity. While he is no imperialist monster,
Prospero is not presented as an unquestionably virtuous ruler either, raising further questions about the
nature of the character.
A blank slate
Considering the difficulties of defining Prospero in political terms, it is perhaps appropriate that it is
the exercise of power which distances him from the audience. What is interesting about Prospero’s
power on the island is that he faces no real competition. It is in this sense that he is much less a
‘character’ than any of the other protagonists, since he never faces a challenge which could be the
source of the kind of dramatic tension which playwrights use to demonstrate character. When he is
shown to feel threatened by the (incompetent) rebellion of Caliban and his ‘confederates’, what could
have been a moment of self-revelation is taken up by a deeply nihilistic speech in which he claims that:
We are such stuff
As dreams are made on
which suggests a lack of any true self to which the audience can relate. So long as he exercises power,
he remains almost a blank slate; even when he tells Miranda about his past, he ensures that he has a
firm control over what information she is allowed to have, telling her:
Here seek no more questions
Thou art inclined to sleep.
Not character but narrative
The fact is that Prospero is not an ordinary character who is affected by the narrative; he is the
narrative. It is quite clear that everything which happens in the play from the tempest itself to the
humbling of Alonso, Sebastian and Antonio, happens because he wants it to. At one point he even
suggests that he has consciously staged the relationship between Ferdinand and Miranda in the manner
of a chivalrous romance, telling his prospective son-in-law
All thy vexations
Were but my trials of thy love, and thou
Hast strangely stood the test.
Shakespeare deliberately uses the play’s staging to show how the exercise of this enormous power
physically distances him from the other characters: in Act 3
Scene 1 he watches Ferdinand and Miranda from a distance, while in Act 3 Scene 3 he appears on the
top ‘to direct and observe events’; normal dramatic interaction is impossible for such a character. This
is why Prospero’s only true self-revelation is in his soliloquy in the play’s Epilogue, after he has
abandoned magic. Having relinquished his power, we see him reduced to the level of an ordinary
mortal, forced to plead with his audience as if to a divinity:
As you from crimes would pardoned be,
Let your indulgence set me free.
However, this is but a tantalising glimpse of the man behind the ‘baseless fabric’, who remains an
enigma to the end.
Resisting simple interpretation
The character of Prospero provides a wealth of material for a study of Shakespeare in the context of
Jacobean thought and politics. However, any attempt to ‘decode’ the character as a mere political
allegory or to treat him as a typical, realistic character risks losing sight of the most important aspect of
Shakespeare’s last great creation; that his presentation and unique status in the narrative mean that he
remains an enigma throughout.
Angus Ledingham is a first year English student at Cambridge University.
This article first appeared in emagazine 43, February 2009.
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