Now our charms are all o'erthrown

Anthony Esolen posited an interesting observation of William Shakespeare as Prospero in the play "The Tempest". No doubt that's as it was.  But there is a sense in that last speech of Prospero's of being trapped inside the art - almost as though the artist was trying to shift himself and the audience to think of the world through a lens other than the entertaining lens of art he himself had forged.  At the beginning he claims 

Now my charms are all o'erthrown

 The magic he had come to rely upon has been defeated; by what?  by love?  by the next generation that he had to give way to?  B/c of his reliance on magic Prospero finds himself weak and a bit defenseless

And what strength I have's mine own,

Which is most faint.  

 

But that's the human condition ain't it?  To learn to give up the powers (art, speech, knowledge, sports, business, law) that give us control over the universe and accept that we are, in fact, rather helpless little creatures in need of salvation.  That's a tough row to hoe.  Who is the "you" he addresses after this revelation?  The audience?  How does the audience "confine" Prospero to the island?  Perhaps by wanting more of the good old drama sauce!  Wanting to see him (Shakespeare) not as a human in need of help but as the dramatist, the playwright, the funny guy, the wit, the magician.  It's like Prospero is replaying the scene of Mercutio's death (another wit from an earlier time) but this time trying to escape the death on the stage rather than be condemned b/c no one takes him seriously and goes to "fetch a surgeon".  A fate worse than death - to die on the stage being thought of as "only an actor" or "only a playwright" or "only a teacher" or "only a lawyer" or whatever.  Or else to be sent to Naples (equally harsh).

Then Prospero begs the audience to release him.  The audience!  Think of that!  The power we have to release another human being from the confines of our own perception of him/her - even if it is a perception that he created.  That's mercy right there and Prospero pleads for it. 

 

Let me not,

Since I have my dukedom got

And pardoned the deceiver, dwell

In this bare island by your spell...

 

The audience, the crowd, society, et alia has a magic itself that casts a "spell" over the individual; traps them; pigeon-holes them; formulates them and leaves them "sprawling on a pin" (T.S.Eliot) and that spell has to be broken lest the individual be broken by it.  I myself have this problem with great artists like Plato, Bach, Van Eyck, JRR Tolkien - it is difficult to stop thinking of them as "that great and godlike artist" and to think of them as just another man, full of man-doubt and dealing with man-troubles and responding to other idiots in the world;

Prospero has done everything to try and be good, married off his daughter, regained his dukedom, pardoned those who wronged him - but he has also done everything to try and please the audience.  Are you not entertained?

And he finds himself bound by the very magical spells he cast in order to please others and accomplish his goals.  Character, to paraphrase Heraclitus, can be a kind of fate - one which leaves us at the mercy of other people to release us from our own image and give us the freedom to simply be mortal.

.. release me from my bands

With the help of your good hands.

 

The spell can be broken if we would only clap for him and signal an end to the play and approval of what  he has offered (rather than boos, catcalls, or *gasp* silence) b/c the artist seeks to please - craves the approval of others - wants them to affirm that his mudpies are more than mudpies, as my dad used to say.  And after years of being the genius, witty, humorous wizard that he was, even my dad had to be told, "it's okay, dad.  You've done what you need to do.  You can let go now."  And he did.  And our gentle breath filled the sail of his Mandjet into the next world.

Gentle breath of yours my sails

Must fill, or else my project fails,

Which was to please.  

 

"Look you now, he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh and minister occasion to him, he is gagged," as Malvolio says in Twelfth Night.  But it's never enough.  (see the Alec Guiness movie, "The Horse's Mouth")

The art never captures the bright spirit; a spirit which, like Ariel, must actually be freed in the end.  And even though the artist desires to enforce his will & enchant others and craves spirits & art to do so he has to seek another way to live or be damned.

Now I want

Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,

And my ending is despair

Unless I be relieved by prayer...

 

Similarly Galadriel, tempted by the ring, recognizes that her heart has long desired this thing - but then she chooses to be a nobody and fade into the West and remain herself.  But Shakespeare acknowledges that he cannot do it alone.  Not only does he need to be released from always playing the fool (or Wizard, or Prince) but he needs the audience to do more; to assault heaven for him and pray for his salvation as a man, not just as an artist.

Which pardons so that it assaults

Mercy itself and frees all faults.

 

 

Ultimately if the audience would be pardoned for crimes, so too would the artist; so too would we all - the crime of making a persona so powerful and so popular that we, like Robin Williams or Mercutio, cannot escape from it w/o the help and forgiveness of others.  

Ultimately everything will fade away:

(Everything) shall dissolve
And, like this insubstantial 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. 

Ultimately magic (or art) cannot stop this fading, this long defeat, from happening.  Ultimately, it is not the way to salvation - though it can craft some beautiful gardens and pathways in that direction.  Ultimately, Love alone and forgiveness born of love are the final and only indulgences we must choose to release others and release ourselves from the spell of this world, and face what dreams may come in that great rounding sleep.

As you from crimes would pardoned be,

Let your indulgence set me free.

 

Now my charms are all o'erthrown,
And what strength I have's mine own,
Which is most faint.  Now 'tis true
I must be here confined by you,
Or sent to Naples.  Let me not,
Since I have my dukedom got
And pardoned the deceiver, dwell
In this bare island by your spell;
But release me from my bands
With the help of your good hands.
Gentle breath of yours my sails
Must fill, or else my project fails,
Which was to please.  Now I want
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant,
And my ending is despair
Unless I be relieved by prayer,
Which pardons so that it assaults
Mercy itself and frees all faults.
As you from crimes would pardoned be,
Let your indulgence set me free.

And for good measure (for measure) here is a bit by John Dowland sung by counter-tenor Andreas Scholl.  The tune would have been contemporaneous with ol' Billy S and the playwright most likely had musical numbers in his play similar to this diddy:  (oh, and if you are opposed to men singing like girls this won't be the thing for you)