1. Prospero. The hero of the drama is a man well advanced in years, grave, dignified and serene. As Duke of Milan he was a prince of power, “without a parallel in dignity and knowledge.” He was popular with his subjects, for so dear was the love his people bore him, that the conspirators did not dare to destroy him. Yet he was not inclined to rule his dukedom, for he grew a stranger to his estate, so transported and wrapt was he in secret studies. He confesses that his library was dukedom enough for him, and that he had volumes that he prized above his dukedom. This was his weakness, and upon this his false brother preyed, until one night in the dead of darkness the Duke and the crying Miranda were set adrift in the rotten carcass of a boat, which the very rats instinctively had quit.
On the island, with the books Gonzalo had preserved for him, he continued his studies and played the schoolmaster to his gentle child until she was better educated and more highly cultured than other princesses that spend more time in vain enjoyments and have less careful tutors. Prospero’s love for his daughter is the strong, central trait in his character. He has raised her judiciously, guarded her zealously, and now when he finds, brought to his very door, all the actors in the tragedy of his life, his one great care is to provide for Miranda’s happiness. All his plans lead to that end, and when he has achieved it, the labors of his life are over.
The supernatural powers that Prospero has acquired seem natural to the studious, dignified old gentleman, and amazing as they are, we can discredit none of them. He tells us he caused the storm, and Miranda begs him to save the passengers on the doomed ship with perfect confidence in his ability to do it. He causes sleep to fall on Miranda, and he summons the gentle Ariel, who enters as naturally as a human being, and admits the marvelous acts that he has seen Prospero perform. Caliban testifies to the power of Prospero so convincingly that we know the magician has control of the destinies of every human being on the island, and can wreak a terrible vengeance if he is determined to do it. When Ferdinand draws his sword, the magician by a word makes him powerless as he stands. We see the magic banquet appear and disappear, and Iris, Ceres, Juno, the nymphs and the reapers come and converse, as a proof positive of his more than mortal power. How has he used this power and how will he continue to use it? When first he came upon the island it was full of evil, and the powers of darkness ruled. He has imprisoned and punished the evil spirits; freed the gentle and the good, banished all discord, and filled the island “full of noises, sounds and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.” That in the future he will use his vast power only for good, we feel assured. Only Caliban hates and abuses him, but the testimony of one so wicked rather proves the gentleness, wisdom and justice of the magician.
Prospero’s passionate love for his daughter makes him cunning and wise. Before he will trust his daughter to Ferdinand, he tests both the character and the love of the latter most severely. He even feigns anger and appears to be cruel and unjust. That he is feigning, neither suspect, but Miranda says: “Never till this day saw I him touch’d with anger so distemper’d,” and “My father’s a better nature, sir, than he appears by speech.” When he is assured of Ferdinand’s worthiness, of the sincerity of his love for Miranda and of her devotion to her young lover, he is delighted, and becomes so interested in the entertainment he is giving them, that he forgets the plot against his life, although the hour of his danger has arrived. It is true the father stoops to listening, but his purpose is so worthy, no one is inclined to cavil at his watchfulness, and, in any event, his exceeding care but justifies the feeling that his love for Miranda is the mainspring of his every act.
On this small island Prospero is little less than a god, and controls affairs with almost supernatural justice and wisdom. Caliban, the ungrateful, terribly wicked monster, is punished unsparingly but with justice, for in the end with repentance he is forgiven, and the tortures cease. Ariel and the other obedient spirits, though reproved at times, are rewarded by freedom and placed beyond the reach of the evil powers of earth and air.
The sufferings Prospero has endured, the intensity of his studies, and the fierceness of his struggles with the supernatural powers of evil, have given a tinge of sadness to his thought, and have led him to feel that the result of all his labors may amount to little. The world is to him but an insubstantial pageant that shall dissolve and fade, leaving not the trace of the thinnest cloud behind. And as for ourselves,
“We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.”
Yet no sooner does he give way to this feeling than he sees how unkind it is to trouble the young with such musings, and says pathetically to Ferdinand,
“Sir, I am vex’d;
Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled:
Be not disturbed with my infirmity.”
It is, however, at the end of the play, when all his plans have been carried out successfully, and enemies and friends are alike at his mercy, that the character of Prospero shines out most gloriously. Rejoicing at the fruition of his hopes, he asks from his enemies only a sincere repentance, and then nobly resigning the great arts which have rendered the plotters powerless, he forgives them one and all: his brother Antonio; the scheming Sebastian; Caliban, the evil spirit; and the two weak but wicked ones, Stephano and Trinculo. Then with generosity unparalleled he restores Ferdinand to his father, the King, who has joined with Antonio, and promises to all “calm seas, auspicious gales and sail so expeditious that shall catch your royal fleet far off.” Remembering to set Ariel free, he lays aside his magic gown, breaks his staff, buries it fathoms deep in the earth, and drowns his magic book deeper than did ever plummet sound. Thus he leaves us, only a man once more, but a loving father, a wise and gentle ruler.