Shakespeare’s Words of Wisdom on His Farewell to the Theatre
By Dr. Siri Galhenage,
Psychiatrist [Retd]
The universal appeal and timelessness of William Shakespeare’s work is a reflection of his artistic mastery in symbolically portraying what it is to be human. Among many emblematic plays he created during his career, the one that particularly blows me away is The Tempest – his last solo-authored play, widely regarded as his valedictory work, his parting song.
The Tempest is a complex allegory of remarkable textual elegance, open to a range of interpretations. The play opens with an atmosphere of tragedy, interspersed with episodes of comedy, but ultimately resolves as a romance. To the least discerning, it is a fairy tale with a happy ending; to the morally inclined, a lesson in ethical conduct; to the politically conscious, an exploration of mastery and rule; and to the psychologically minded, a ‘A battle within the soul’ [a theme I explored in The Island, May 24, 2017].
My present endeavour is to trace the philosophical undercurrents of the play – the fundamental truths about human existence that permeates its narrative. Shakespeare places Prospero, the protagonist, centre stage, giving lyrical expression to his words of wisdom – the words that resonate across the globe, particularly in the strife-ridden tempesta of the world we inhabit today. Indeed, The play’s the thing in Shakespeare’s wider intention as enacted in Hamlet: its greatest purpose is to awaken our conscience, and, hopefully, contribute to healing.
The Narrative
Prospero, ‘the one who prospers’, was the Duke of Milan, a learned man, devoted to his books and constantly in pursuit of further knowledge. As he said, ‘the library was dukedom enough’. His preoccupation with learning allowed his ambitious brother Antonio to usurp his position. Prospero and his three-year-old daughter Miranda – ‘the miracle’ – were cast adrift on the open sea in a boat without mast or sail. Through the kindness of his courtier, Gonzalo, they were provided with provisions and Prospero’s precious books. Eventually, they reach a remote island.
On the island, Prospero encounters a world inhabited by spirits and supernatural beings, most notably Ariel, the airy spirit associated with music and freedom, and Caliban, the island’s native inhabitant and son of the witch Sycorax. Prospero frees Ariel, whom Sycorax had imprisoned within a tree, and subsequently commands his loyalty through his Art—the magical knowledge contained in his books. Caliban provides physical labour, while Ariel becomes Prospero’s devoted servant
Prospero raises Miranda on the island, educating her while continuing his own pursuit of knowledge. When Miranda reaches marriageable age, Prospero learns that a ship carrying his usurping brother Antonio, the King of Naples, his son Ferdinand and their companions is passing nearby. He uses his Art, with Ariel’s assistance, to conjure a violent storm that wrecks the ship, but carefully ensures the safety of all aboard.
The shipwreck separates the passengers across the island. Ariel’s music leads Ferdinand to Miranda, and the two fall in love. Prospero, initially, tests Ferdinand’s character and commitment to Miranda. Meanwhile, Antonio and others plot further treachery. Ariel, as directed by Prospero, ultimately brings all the characters within his control.
Having achieved mastery over his enemies, Prospero faces a final choice: revenge or reconciliation. He chooses compassion and forgiveness. He renounces his magical power, releases Ariel, forgives Antonio, and accepts Ferdinand as Miranda’s future husband, and returns home, relinquishing both his Art and the rule over to the island’s native inhabitants, declaring that nothing endures.
Philosophical undercurrents
The narrative transcends a tale of magic, shipwreck, mythical beings and romance, becoming a deeper meditation, mainly on two fundamental human themes, of forgiveness and impermanence, having both philosophical and spiritual footings.
Prospero, the learned ruler, maliciously usurped and cast out by his brother, deals with his anger by choosing forgiveness over punishment. He uses the crisis as a challenge to achieve ‘freedom’.
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 penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend
Not a frown further.
Go release them Ariel….
Having achieved forgiveness, Prospero recognises the need to relinquish “this thing of darkness” within him before returning home, spiritually enlightened.
Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant;
And my ending in despair,
Unless I reliev’d by prayer,
Which pierces so, that it assaults
Mercy itself, and frees all faults.
In Identifying himself with Prospero, Shakespeare offers hope for the future through the union of his daughter, Miranda with Ferdinand, the son of his usurper – a symbolic reconciliation that transcends past grievances.
He then leaves us with a profound lesson in humanity: a reminder of the fragility and transience of life, expressed in one of the most lyrical and memorable passages in all Shakespeare.
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 dissolve
And, like this substantial pageant faded,
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep
But isn’t it a contradiction? Shakespeare lives on through his literary artistry! To quote Ben Jonson, in his dedicatory poem to Shakespeare: “He was not of an age, but for all time”. Let us continue to enjoy the sensibility offered to us by the Bard, as ‘merrily’ as long as we live, as the freedom enjoyed by the unconstrained Ariel.
Shakespeare
In cowslip’s bell I lie;
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat’s back I do fly
After summer merrily,
Merrily, merrily shall I live now
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough
[sirigalhenage@gmail.com]
from The Island https://ift.tt/F9KqacH
