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Dylan Matousek
Doctor Rolf Samuels
ENGL 480
14 December 2012
Prospero’s Manipulation
The Tempest presents a world in which the impossible is made real. Magic is everywhere
and serves to drive much of the action in the play. Behind the magic of The Tempest, though, is
Prospero, the central character in the events of the play. Prospero directs the magical acts in the
play, all towards achieving some goal. The “traditional view” of Prospero’s goals in enacting his
magic is that he seeks to bring about “repentance in the wicked or weak willed” characters in the
play (Belton 128). This “traditional view” of Prospero’s goals being to enact moral repentance is
demonstrated by Theodore Spencer in his book Shakespeare and the Nature of Man. He writes
that “in The Tempest whatever evil remains is impotent, and goodness returns to action.
Here…there is a re-birth…a heightened, almost symbolic, awareness of the beauty of normal
humanity after it has been purged of evil” (200). This view is both confirmed and denied by
Stephen Miko in his article “Tempest.” He argues that “Prospero is a manager of shows. He
runs versions of a living theatre, both producing and directing…to test, to punish, and to convert”
(378). Miko goes on to state, though, that “the putative intent of Prospero’s shows fails to
coincide with their results” (378). So, even though Miko claims that Prospero fails to achieve
the moral conversion of the other characters, he does acknowledge that that seems to be the
purpose of the magic.
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Ellen Belton takes a different view on the purpose of Prospero’s magic. She claims that
Prospero’s goal isn’t so much as to convert the other characters in the play and gain some sort of
repentance from them, but rather that Prospero seeks to help “each character to discover and
affirm his own identity” (128). She demonstrates this idea with a discussion of the ways in
which Prospero uses “trancelike states” to bypass the “conscious, reasoning mind” (128). Once
Prospero has bypassed the characters’ conscious minds, Belton argues, “each character’s true
identity [is able] to assert itself” (130). I agree that this revelation of the true self is the goal of
Prospero’s magic and is a dominant theme throughout the play. Belton ends her article, though,
with a question regarding the self-discovery of Prospero himself. She asks, “If the aim of
Prospero’s magic has been to reveal the true nature of each character, does Prospero himself
experience a similar self-discovery?” (135). She ultimately comes to the conclusion that,
because of his renunciation of his magic and his “return to the real world,” Prospero does
achieve the recognition of self that he has helped the other characters to attain (136).
I do not believe, though, that this is true. I think that Prospero has charmed the audience,
and reader, into seeing him as he wishes them to see him. I hope to demonstrate through a close
reading of several of Prospero’s various speeches in the play that he does not actually attain a
true recognition of self. Through his use of self-aggrandizing language and emotional/mental
misdirection, Prospero leads the reader to falsely believe he has recognized his faults and seeks
to now change his ways.
I will conduct my analysis of the play with the methods of a formalist, in that I will seek
to stress “the unity and coherence of the work” in its presentation of Prospero (Keesey 76). My
argument relies heavily, however, on the concept “that in certain cases it is proper to treat literary
characters as real people” (Paris 217). This is because I attribute much to Prospero in the way of
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intention in his actions over the course of the play. In this way I adopt an approach that is a
hybridization of formal and mimetic criticism, much like that used by Bernard Paris. With that,
let us return to my claim that Prospero leads the reader to falsely believe he has attained true selfrecognition by the end of the play.
First, we must discuss the difficulty tragic Shakespearean heroes have in attaining selfrecognition. Granted, The Tempest is not listed as a tragedy and Prospero is not a tragic hero, but
it can be imagined that the story we witness him in is the sequel to the tragic story of his deposal
as Duke of Milan. David Bromwich explains that “there is a theory we are all taught sooner or
later…about the coming to self-knowledge of the heroes of Shakespeare’s tragedies” (132). The
self-knowledge attained by the characters is a realization of “what has happened to him…and he
learns…how far his character is implicated in his fate…the agent unmasks himself and is startled
at what he finds” (132). He claims that we, the readers and audiences, accept that the heroes
reach self-knowledge because it is “proper…the end of a play is the end and…the hero is the
hero” (132). Essentially, our own expectation of a neatly wrapped conclusion, with the heroes
remaining the heroes, blinds us to the failings of those heroes. This is the case with Prospero,
though his illusion can be seen as worse than those of the other tragic characters because he
performs his control of perception deliberately.
To begin, let us look at Prospero’s recounting of the events which led to his exile upon
the island of The Tempest. Prospero begins his tale by telling Miranda, and the audience, to
“Obey, and be attentive” (I.ii.38). He immediately betrays his intentions of control over
perception by commanding our obedience and attention to what he has to say. Miranda then
reveals to Prospero that she has some “remembrance” of the events prior to their term on the
island but that “’Tis far off” (I.ii.44-46). Prospero’s reaction to this revelation further betrays his
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desire for control over her, and our, perception of the events. After hearing that Miranda
remembers some of her time before the island, Prospero assails her with a barrage of questions.
He rather urgently asks “But how is it/That this lives in thy mind? What seest thou else/In the
dark backward and abysm of time?” (I.ii.48-50). Even though Miranda’s recollections are vague
and “far off,” Prospero seems to treat them as a threat to his planned revelation of the story. He
even goes so far as to downplay their reliability by describing the effects of time on her memory
as “dark” and “backward.” In doing this, Prospero reveals that he treats recollections of the
events other than his own as unreliable at best, perhaps even untrue.
After learning of Prospero’s former position as Duke of Milan, Miranda exclaims “O the
heavens,/What foul play had we, that we came from thence?” (I.ii.59-61). Prospero seizes upon
her usage of the term “foul play” when he responds “By foul play (as thou say’st) were we
heaved thence” (I.ii.62). He makes a point of pointing out that Miranda was the one to conclude
that their exile was the result of foul play. This makes his positioning of himself as the victim of
the events to follow more believable because he was not the one to describe them as foul play, it
was Miranda’s “unbiased” conclusion.
Prospero’s manipulation of the story becomes even more apparent when he describes the
way in which he “governed” his state. Upon introducing Antonio, Prospero diverges from his
story to make a point of saying “I pray thee mark me – that a brother should/Be so perfidious!”
(I.ii.68-69). Once again we are commanded by Prospero to heed his words about how his brother
is treacherous. Prospero then goes on to contrast this enforced image of his brother as
treacherous with Prospero’s image of himself. He describes himself as: “Prospero the prime
duke, being so reputed/In dignity, and the liberal arts,/Without a parallel” (I.ii.72-74). The
binaric opposition presented of their characters is plain to see. Antonio is the treacherous brother
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and Prospero is the virtuous and wise Duke. How virtuous and wise, though, can Prospero really
be if he shirked his duties as Duke of Milan to indulge in his “secret studies” (I.ii.77)? He seems
to have selfishly chosen his desire for learning and study over his responsibilities as Duke.
From this point, Miranda, and the audience/reader, is asked “Dost thou attend me?”
(I.ii.78). This reassertion of his desire for our attention to his story is a common point throughout
Prospero’s speech. He either asks if we are paying attention, claims we are not to illicit a
response that we are, or openly tells us to heed him fully six times over the course of the speech.
Belton also makes note of these frequent demands for our attention. She writes: “Not only does
Prospero employ a style of diction that is deliberately obscure and pedantic, but he interrupts his
narrative at regular intervals with apparently unwarranted injunctions against inattention” (130).
She comes to the conclusion that “his whole proceeding recalls the techniques associated with
the induction of hypnotic trance” (131). This is interesting because it further establishes
Prospero’s desire for control over Miranda’s, and our, perception of the events being related.
Just as he places Miranda into a trancelike state, he lulls the audience into a complacent
acceptance of the truth of what he is saying. He deliberately controls our perception of his
character.
Prospero continues this manipulation of perception throughout the play. Indeed, it carries
all the way to and through the final act. He opens act five in conversation with Ariel. He states:
“Now does my project gather to a head:/My charms crack not, my spirits obey, and time/Goes
upright with his carriage” (V.i.1-3). While this statement may seem innocent enough as a simple
summary of the events of the play so far, it can also be read in relation to Prospero’s control of
audience/reader perception. His charms upon our perception have remained solid and all are
obeying.
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Once Ariel leaves and Prospero enters into his speech “renouncing” his magic, we are
affirmed in our suspicions of his failure to adapt his character. He begins his speech calling out
magical beings (“Ye elves…”) and extolling their powers (V.i.33-40). In the middle of his
speech, though, he reveals his undimmed sense of self-aggrandizement. He describes the spirits
whose powers he was just extolling and whose assistance he sought to work his own magic as
“Weak masters” (V.i.41). Prospero then goes on to “abjure” their “rough magic” (V.i.50-51).
This appears to be the moment in which Prospero finally attains his self-discovery. He sees the
harsh and turbulent nature of his “rough magic” and casts it off in favor of worldly pursuits.
This is not, however convenient it would be, the truth. Sure, he has cast off his “rough magic,”
but he has not abandoned his self-aggrandizement and manipulation of perception.
Prospero begins his manipulation of audience perception, as I have demonstrated, in his
speech recounting the events which led to his exile upon the island. This manipulation exists
apart from the “rough magic” which he has just renounced. This separation of magic from
manipulation is evidenced by Prospero himself when he tells Miranda “’Tis time/I should inform
thee farther. Lend thy hand,/And pluck my magic garment from me” (I.ii.22-24). Prospero has
set aside his magic, but not his ability to manipulate. It can be seen, then, that Prospero’s
renunciation of his “rough magic” is only another setting aside of magic in favor of
manipulation, for he certainly does not cease to manipulate the perceptions of the other
characters and the audience.
His continued manipulation is immediately seen in his declarations to those characters
who have been the victims of his magic. The first character he addresses is Gonzalo. He tells
him “Holy Gonzalo, honorable man,/Mine eyes, ev’n sociable to the show of thine,/Fall fellowly
drops” (V.i.62-64). Prospero flatters Gonzalo by calling him honorable, but also flatters himself
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by aligning his emotional state with Gonzalo’s. He seeks to be seen as a “fellow” of the
honorable Gonzalo’s, thereby appearing honorable himself. Prospero then launches into a verbal
attack upon the characters of Alonso and Sebastian. He points out how Alonso and Sebastian
“entertain ambition,/Expelled remorse, and nature,…[and] Would here have killed your king”
(V.i.75-78). Prospero paints them as villains incapable of remorse, but then goes on to say “I do
forgive thee,/Unnatural though thou art” (V.i.78-79). Just as Prospero sought to portray himself
as honorable by aligning himself with Gonzalo, he now furthers his self-aggrandizement by
forgiving even these “unnatural” villains. Prospero’s moral capacity is so high, he will even
stoop to forgive those who do not deserve it. Never mind, though, that it was Prospero who
placed them in the situation to hatch their plot, and Prospero who muddled their sense of reason
and caused them to give way to their unconscious desires.
Prospero is not finished, though, in his manipulations. Once he has restored his image to
one which the other characters will recognize, he presents himself as “The wronged Duke of
Milan” (V.i.107). He still clings to the image he established earlier in the play as the victim of
their betrayal. Furthermore, he is careful to keep the other characters oblivious to his role in the
magic which has afflicted them upon the island. Prospero explains their befuddled state as
“some subtleties o’ the isle” – not the after-effects of magic he worked upon them (V.i.124).
This separation of himself from the magic which has assailed them upon the island further
indicates Prospero’s desire to control their perceptions of him.
He continues his control of perception by continuing his biased portrayals of those he
blames for his exile. As an aside from the speech unveiling himself to the other characters, he
tells Antonio “For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother/Would even infect my mouth, I do
forgive/Thy rankest fault – all of them –“ (V.i.130-132). This description of Antonio is
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remarkably similar to his initial portrayal of him as “perfidious.” It demonstrates that Prospero
still wishes the audience to see his brother as wicked and untrustworthy. Despite the horrible
nature of this brother, though, Prospero is willing to forgive him all his faults; another example
of Prospero’s undimmed self-aggrandizing nature.
If Prospero’s speeches to the other characters were an effort to control their perceptions
of him, then his farewell speech in the epilogue is a final effort undertaken to control the
perception of the audience. Indeed, his manipulation of the other characters’ perceptions is also
an indirect means through which he controls the perception of the audience, as seen by his
repeated claims regarding his own innocence and superior moral character, but the epilogue is a
direct effort. The goal of this grand speech is to align the audience’s emotional favor with him
and leave them seeing him as the wronged duke who has rightfully regained his status. He
begins his speech by saying “Now my charms are all o’erthrown,/And what strength I have’s
mine own./Which is most faint” (Epilogue.1-3). Prospero presents himself here as an honest
speaker because his charms are all finished, and he presents himself as weak because he only
possesses his “most faint” strength. This, though, is simply an emotional misdirection. While it
is true that his magical charms are finished, his persuasive charms are still holding strong. By
claiming that he is now weak and honest, he seeks to assuage any suspicions the audience could
be harboring and lull them into a state of trust. Prospero further establishes his current inferiority
by telling the audience “Now ‘tis true/I must be here confined by you,/Or sent to Naples”
(Epilogue 3-5). It appears as though Prospero is instilling a sense of power in the audience. This
is a false power, though, because he is still in control of their emotional perception. He gives
them power knowing the way in which they will use it.
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He continues his misdirection by appealing to the audience’s sense of moral justice.
Prospero pleads of the audience “Let me not/Since I have my dukedom got,/And pardoned the
deceiver, dwell/In this bare island” (Epilogue.5-8). He points out that he has pardoned the
“deceiver” which he has consistently portrayed as evil and undeserving, so it is only fair that he
be released from the island.
Prospero enhances his emotional appeals to the audience and his creation of their sense of
power for the remainder of his speech. He tells the audience to “release me from my bands/With
the help of your good hands” (Epilogue.9-10). He further extends their sense of power by saying
“Gentle breath of yours, my sails/Must fill, or else my project fails,/Which was to please.”
(Epilogue.11-13). Both of these statements are further attempts by Prospero to give the audience
false power over his fate. He continues his presentation of himself as honest, and somewhat
pathetic, when he states that “Now I want/Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,/And my ending is
despair,/Unless I be relieved by prayer” (Epilogue.13-16). He is returning, here, to his initial
claim that he is without his power, and now requires the assistance of the audience to save him
from despair. It reads almost like a guilt-trip by Prospero directed at the audience. After all,
who could be so cruel as to confine the good Duke of Milan to despair?
Prospero finishes his speech with the single, though veiled, allusion to any sort of fault on
his part. He states “As you from your crimes would pardoned be,/Let your indulgence set me
free” (Epilogue.19-20). It seems as though he is acknowledging that he is not, in fact, the
innocent victim he has portrayed himself as. This acknowledgement, though, is reminiscent of
his self-serving forgiveness of the wrongs of the other characters. This final appeal is the “trap”
which Prospero springs upon his audience. As I mentioned earlier, he has given the audience
power over his fate knowing how they will use that power. This is his demonstration of that
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knowledge. If the audience fails to absolve Prospero, then they fail to absolve themselves. It
shows that he has been in control of the situation the entire time. He has left the audience only
two choices: forgive him his sins or be damned with him.
Over the course of the play, aside from this instance, Prospero makes no mention of his own
faults and works only to present the image of himself as morally superior victim. In this way, he seems to
be employing a trick of rhetoric (tell the same lie enough times and it will become truth). He leaves no
room in the minds of the other characters, and the audience, to doubt his position as honest victim. His
recognition of his own faults in creating his situation, the key to attaining true self-recognition, is
superficial and there is no reason to believe that he will cease his manipulative behavior. This
understanding of Prospero as unrepentant for his actions is supported by Bernard Paris. He points out that
“Prospero does not seem to blame himself or to see himself as being responsible in any way for his fate”
(236). This, then, is the ultimate failure of Prospero. He cannot come to see his own character at work in
creating his fate. Like so many other tragic Shakespearean heroes, he cannot attain a true sense of selfrecognition. The development of Prospero as a character may seem like a simple thing to discern. A
superficial reading of the play will lead the reader to believe all that Prospero strives for him/her to
believe. That is, that he begins as the wrongfully deposed Duke and eventually, through his efforts and
his own self merit, regains his rightful position. What Prospero has really done over the course of The
Tempest, though, is seek to control and manipulate perception. He achieves this control of perception
through emotional/mental misdirection and self-aggrandizing language. Prospero does not attain a true
sense of self-recognition, but he seems to want us to believe he has. I must admit that I fell into this trap
the first time I read the play. I was in line with so many other readers of Shakespearean plays, I wanted to
believe that the hero is and remains the hero. With Prospero, though, this is simply just not the case.
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Works Cited
Belton, Linda. "'When No Man Was His Own': Magic And Self-Discovery In The Tempest."
University Of Toronto Quarterly 55.2 (1985): 127-40. Academic Search Complete. Web.
5 Dec. 2012.
Bromwich, David. "What Shakespeare's Heroes Learn." Raritan 29.4 (2010): 132-48. Academic
Search Complete. Web. 5 Dec. 2012.
Keesey, Donald. Contexts for Criticism. 4th ed. New York, NY: McGraw-Hill. 2003. Print.
Miko, Stephen J. "Tempest." Contexts for Criticism. Ed. Donald Keesey. 4th ed. New York, NY:
McGraw-Hill, 2003. 374-83. Print.
Paris, Bernard. “The Tempest.” Contexts for Criticism. Ed. Donald Keesey. 4th ed. New York,
NY: McGraw-Hill, 2003. 235-43. Print.
Paris, Bernard. “The Uses of Psychology.” Contexts for Criticism. Ed. Donald Keesey. 4th ed.
New York, NY: McGraw-Hill, 2003. 215-23. Print.
Shakespeare, William, and David H. Horne. The Tempest. New Haven: Yale University Press,
1955. Print.
Spencer, Theodore. Shakespeare and the Nature of Man: Lowell Lectures, 1942. 2nd ed. New
York: Macmillan Co, 1949. Print.