Prospero's Magic Power and Its Limitations in The Tempest

Dongchoon Lee (Sogang University)

Since the 1930s, critics' interpretations on Prospero's magic have become thoroughly polarized.. A seminal histori cal criticism on Prospero's magic was inaugurated by Walter Clyde Curry, Shakespeare's Philosophical Patterns(Bat on Rouge: Louisiana State UP, 1937), pp. 163-99.

Some see Prospero as the quintessential Renaissance philosopher-magus or theurgist whose goal is the attainment of kn owledge and wisdom through exercising natural and spiritual magic.. See, C. J. Sisson, "The Magic of Prospero, " Shakespeare Survey, 11 (1958), 70-77; Frank Kermode, "Introduction," The Tempest, Arden E dition (London: Methuen, 1962), pp. xlvii-xlviii. Frances Yates, Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic Tradition (New York: 1969; orig. prt., 1964); Hardin Craig, "Magic in The Tempest," Philological Quarterly, 47 (1968), 8-15; Harry Levin, "Two Magian Comedies: 'The Tempest' and 'The Alchemist,'" Shakesp eare Survey, 22 (1969), 47-58; Elizabeth Sewell, "'As I was sometime Milan': Prospects for a Search for Giordan o Bruno, through Prospero, Coleridge, and the Figure of Exile," MOSAIC, 8 (1974), 127-37; John S. Mebane, Renaissance Magic and the Return of the Golden Age: The Occult Tradition and Marlowe, Jonson, and Shakespeare (Li ncoln: U of Nebraska, 1989), esp., pp. 174-201. Frances Yates, Shakespeare's Last Plays: A New Approach (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1975), pp. 87-106.

In explicit opposition to this affirmative view of Prospero is a group of critics who condemns not only Prospero as a type of the potentially damned sorcerer, but also his magic as malevolent.. See, Robert Egan, "This Rough Magic: P erspectives of Art and Morality in The Tempest," Shakespeare Quarterly 23 (1972): 171-182; D'Orsay W . Pearson, "'Unless I Be Relieve'd by Prayer': The Tempest in Perspective," Shakespeare Studies, 7 (1974): 253-82; Ernest B. Gilman, "'All Eyes': Prospero's Inverted Magic," Renaissance Quarterly 33 (1980): 214-30; Cosmo Corfield, "Why Does Prospero Abjure His 'Rough Magic,'" Shakespeare Quarterly 36 (1985): 31-48.

The problem here is that Prospero's magic is far more complex than such an easy dichotomy would suggest. Prospero's magic is so various and ambiguous that it cannot be safely ensconced in either of these magic traditions, black or white ,. Robert West, Shakespeare and the Outer Mystery (Lexington: UP of Kentucky, 1968), pp. 80-95.

and he cannot be judged either as a solemn magus or as a vengeful, finally repentant witch.. Barbara A. Mowat sees Pro spero as a magus, or enchanter, or wizard, or street-corner juggler; "Prospero, Agrippa, and Hocus Pocus," ELR 11 (1981): 281-303.

My essay in part shares a similar vein with the critics who do not attempt to limit Prospero and his magic within the structure of dichotomy. Unlike those critics, however, it is through examining the motives, effectiveness, and nature of Prospero's magic that I hope to clarify the complexity or the ambiguity of his magic, opening up the mixture of his magic power proffered by those critics who regard his magic as "potential" and of its limitations on the side of those who view his magic as "rough." In the process of tracing Prospero's magic power and its limitations, the question of why his "so potent" magic suddenly changes to "rough," I think, can be naturally sol ved(V. I. 50).. Quotations from The Tempest are from the Arden edition, ed. Frank Kermode (London: Methuen, 1962) .

First of all, it is important to examine the origin and nature of Prospero's magic which is revealed through his m outh. A portion of Prospero's long narrative to Miranda about his life in Milan makes the nature of his magic accessibl e to readers:

The Government I cast upon my brother,

And to my State grew stranger, being transported

And rapt in secret studies....

I, thus neglecting worldly ends, all dedicated

To closeness and the bettering of my mind

with that which, but by being so retir'd,

O'er-priz'd all popular rate, in my false brother

Awak'd an evil nature.

. . .

--hence his Ambition growing--

. . .

. . .he needs will be

Absolute Milan. Me, poor man my library

Was Dukedome large enough: of temporal royalties

He thinks me now incapable.

. . .

Dear, they durst not,

So dear the love my people bore me; nor set

A mark so bloody on the business.

. . .

Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me

From mine own library with volumes that

I prize above my dukedom (my own italic). (I, ii, 75-166)

Know thus far forth

By accident most strange, beautiful Fortune,

(Now my dear lady) hath mine enemies

Brought to this shore; and by my prescience

I find my zenith doth depend upon

A most auspicious star, whose influence

If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes

Will ever after droop. (I, ii, 177-184)

Separate from the text, these lines give enough solid evidence to support the proposition that Prospero's magic is in t he line of the Renaissance occult tradition. This tradition extends from Ficino and Pico whose goal was the attainment of knowledge and wisdom--through Agrippa and Paracelsus who would give the magician not only the power to attract but al so to control good and evil spirits--on to Bruno and John Dee who established the tradition in England just before its d ecline.. For the study of this tradition, see Eugenio Garin, "Magic and Astrology in the Civilisation of the Renais sance," Science and Civic Life in the Italian Renaissance, trans. Peter Munz (Garden City, New York: Anchor Books, 1969), pp. 145-65; Barbara Howard Traister, Heavenly Necromancers: The Magician in English Renaissance Drama (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1984), pp. 1-32.

Prospero's words, "transported and rapt in secret studies," are similar to the language used by Agrippa and Trithemius in their correspondences about The Occult Philosophy. Agrippa refers to Trithemius's knowledge as "transcending" and to Trithemius himself as "a man very industrious after secret things"; Trithemius commends Agrippa for having "penetrate[d] into such secrets as have been hide from most learned men," and exh orts him to keep these secret things hidden from the "vulgar." Agrippa and Trithemius linked magic to intellec tual study whose aim lies in seeking secret things hidden from the transitory and the "vulgar." And they also regarded magic as the "divine science" by which a Hermetic magus ascends to the realm of the gods.. The letter s between Cornelius Agrippa and Johannes Trithemius, Abbot of Saint James of Herbipolis, written in 1510, are printed in Agrippa's Three Books of Occult Philosophy, trans. J. F. (London, 1651): pp. A2-A5. The later letter from Agrip pa, "To the most Renowned & Illustrious Prince, Hermannus of Wyda" (written, as indicated by internal evid ence, in 1531), prefaces Book III of Occult Philosophy("Ceremonial Magic"), pp. 341-42. See also, Euge nio Garin, pp. 146-47.

As revealed in his narrative above, Prospero's pursuit of secret things hidden in nature is clearly on the same vein o f Agrippa and Trithemius. The point of agreement here between Prospero, and Agrippa and Trithemius lies in the idea tha t the universe is, in Eugenio Garin's words, "full of hidden correspondences, of occult sympathies, and that it was completely pervaded by spirits, all of them refracting signs pregnant with hidden meanings" (Garin 149). They com monly hold that the mission of the philosophical magus is to find the secret meanings among the immensely multiple and v aried forms of the universe.

Furthermore, Prospero's words a moment later: "neglecting worldly ends" also reflect the language of the se same men, to whom things "worldly" and "temporal" meant precisely things of this world. Prospero 's passion about his pursuit of magic cannot be equated with ambition or lust for power or wealth. "Worldly ends " and "temporal royalties" are the goals of Prospero's brother, Antonio. The fact that Prospero's magic a ims to find truth by diligent inquisition is made clear in his dedication to "closeness" and to the "bett ering of [his] mind.". Agrippa also emphasizes the need in white magic for "the vertue of the person himself c onsecrating" and "his holiness of life"(Agrippa, III, lxii, 540).

Prospero's prizing of his books above his dukedom likewise recalls the real-life magus. For the magus, the magic boo ks which open to the adept the secrets of the universe are properly valued above mere mortal power and station. John De e, defending his magical endeavors from charges of sorcery, describing them as the means by which he sought the truth "by the true philosophicall method and harmony: proceeding and ascending (as it were) gradatim, from thinges visible to consider of thinges invisible: from thinges bodily, to conceive of thinges spirituall: from thinges transito rie, & momentanie, to meditate of things permanent...". John Dee's "Monas Hieroglyphica," (Antwerp, 1 564), trans. and introduced by C. H. Josten, Ambix Xii, 1964, pp. 102, 197. Cited from Barbara Mowat, pp. 284-5.

In short, for Prospero, study of secret things is in sharp distinction to the worldly desire for wealth and power. H is passion for them is ultimately directed for seeking something divine and sacred hidden in both human and real nature.

In some phrases of Prospero's long narrative to Miranda--"and to my state grew stranger" and "but b y being so retir'd"--some critics point out the problem in equating Prospero with the philosophical magus. They re ad these phrases as Prospero's apology for the neglect of his duty as a duke, and interpret his retreat as his moral fau lt.. One of the representative critics who show this view is D'Orsay Pearson, see, pp. 258-60.

If Prospero intended to say that he neglected his duty and that he was therefore blameworthy, Prospero's revelation o n the nature of his magic undeniably would deviate from the line of the Renaissance philosophical magus. However, Prosp ero does not here say that he neglected his duty. He says, rather, that he neglected "worldly ends." Though his retreat into the studies causes Antonio to grow his evil ambition, the guilt is, however, ascribed not to Prospero' s dedication to magic but to the evil nature of his brother, as suggested in Miranda's words: "Good wombs have born e bad sonns" (I, ii, 119).

Furthermore, here in Prospero's narrative on his magic, I cannot find what Robert Egan indicates as the defect in Prospero's character--his "serious misconception of himself as god rather than man" (Egan 176-77 & 179). T he fault of Egan's criticism on Prospero's magic comes from his obsessive focus on Prospero's acknowledging himself as god. But Prospero here is described as the apostle of the Renaissance philosophical tradition who does not cause himself to cross the thin line from theurgy to necromancy. One more strong evidence with which I can argue against Egan's crit icism on Prospero's magic is demonstrated in the following dialogue:

Miranda: How came we ashore?

Prospero: By Providence divine (I, ii, 159; cf. V, i, 189).

Shakespeare carefully aligns Prospero and his magic with the workings of the cosmic order. Prospero's reference to "Providence divine" is much closer to the philosophical magi's common view that the magus can liberate himself from the control of the stars and of Fortune, gaining the true freedom which comes from aligning oneself with the will of God (Curry 177ff). Through Prospero's early narrative about his magic, Shakespeare places Prospero almost entirely in the tradition of the Renaissance philosophical magus which extends from Agrippa to John Dee. In particular, by using the present tense verb prize, Shakespeare shows that Prospero's magic, "twelve yere since," still has been in that tradition and that he has been very much the Hermetic magus.

Prospero's image drawn from the magus tradition more conspicuously stands out through the contrasting image of Syc orax, the witch who copulated with the devil, who whelped Caliban, who worshipped the god Setebos, and whose sorceries w ere "terrible to enter human hearing." The comparison between Prospero and Sycorax in the nature of magic woul d justify Prospero's image drawn in his narrative. The powers of Sycorax are derived from evil communion with the devil , the father of his son, Caliban. Moreover, Sycorax deals in evil spells and charms, and her spirits take the ill omene d shape of toads, bats and beetles as with other witches. The fact that the powers of Prospero result from his deep stu dy of the secrets of nature makes sharp distinction from the nature and origin of Sycorax's powers. This is made plainly evident in the instruments of his power, his mantle, his staff, and his book, in which alone his magic resides. Above all, Prospero's magic power is derived from the application of forces liberated and accessible to him through the aid of his books. Hence it is not accidental that Caliban insists on the destruction of Prospero's books as a necessary prolo gue to the conspiracy's success:

. . . there thou mayst brain him,

Having first seiz'd his books.

. . .

Remember

First to possess his books; for without them

He's but a sot

. . .

Burn but his books. (III, ii, 86-93)

Prospero has no dealings whatever with the powers of evil. Prospero's conjured spirits are of the air or of the up per world of the elements, not infernal spirits of the underworld hell. As the relationship between Sycorax and Ariel s ays, the goetist like Sycorax cannot command Ariel, including all lesser spirits, without violating or tormenting his na ture, though she might invoke him to conform to her purpose. When she attempts to lay earthly commands upon Ariel, the spirit rebelled. Only the theurgist like Prospero is able to command such delicate and superior powers successfully. H is powers are also superior to those of Sycorax guilty of terrible sorceries, and therefore banished from Argier, and ev en could command Setebos, her god, according to Caliban. His manipulation of nature and of spirits associated with natu re do not spring from artificial magic, but from natural magic. It is clearly theurgy, sacerdotal science or white magi c, a command over nature attained through an understanding of its phenomena and an influence over the spirits that link them to their correspondences in the spectral world. In short, Prospero is a magician most profound in his art of disc overing hidden truths and yet not damnable. Shakespeare's careful scheme in order to convey to readers the image of Pro spero in light of the Renaissance occult tradition is revealed in the purpose of Prospero's magic.

In his exercise of magic, Prospero appears to follow John Dee's directive "to frame natural things to wonderf ul uses." "Preface to Euclid," sig. Ciii, quoted from Michael Payne, "Magic and Politics in The T empest," ed. Sidney Homan, Shakespeare and the Triple Play: From Study to Stage to Classroom (London an d Toronto: Associated University Presses, 1988), 43-4.

Giordano Bruno holds that "magic, by working miracles, would enter into the hearts of men through spells and inca ntations and thus bring about a radical reformation of the earthly city." Giordano Bruno, Theses de Magia, q uoted from Eugenio Garin, p. 147.

If Prospero had intially planned vengeance on his former enemies, he could easily have annihilated them with the power of the storm. Instead, his motive for creating the tempest is not revenge but primarily the attempt to purge the evil from all his subjects and restore them to goodness. At the outset of the play Shakespeare takes pains to demonstrate t hat the magician intends to harm no one:

. . . Wipe thou thine eyes; have comfort.

The direful spectacle of the wrack, which touch'd

The very virtue of compassion in thee,

I have with such provision in mine Art

So safely ordered, that there is no soul--

No, not so much perdition as an hair

Betid to any creature in the vessel (I, ii, 25-31)

In the beginning of the poem Prospero's ultimate goal of having all his subjects undergo regeneration or "hea rt-sorrow" remains unchanged until its end. He declares,

Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th' 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. (V, i, 25-30)

Through Ariel's words that "I and my fellows are the ministers of Fate" (III, iii, 53), Walter Curry explains the motive of Prospero's magic in terms of the Renaissance theurgy. According to him, Prospero's spirits including Ari el are represented as being ministers of Fate, or its equivalent, Destiny in which the souls of Prospero's subjects are caught and from which there is no escape except through repentance or complete restitution (Curry, 192-94). That is, Pr ospero's manipulation of nature and of spirits associated with nature is not only a means of bringing his former enemies to the island, but also an occasion for their moral and spiritual reform, although it seems clear by the end of the pla y that few, if any, of them repent or change.

Caliban is not exceptional in Prospero's project to draw all humanity up toward a state of fulfillment and moral r egeneration. Prospero teaches him how "To name the bigger light, and how the less" (I, ii, 337), and, through Miranda, how to speak. Moreover, Prospero shows him visions of some indistinct, heavenly ideal to spur him on further:

and then, in dreaming,

The clouds methought would open, and show riches

Ready to drop upon me; (III, ii, 138-140)

As in Prospero's dealing with his former enemies, Prospero intially exposes and chastises Caliban's faults and then lea ds him to goodness. From this point of view, the substance of Prospero's project is much like that of the Hermetic magi. Marsilio Ficino, in his widely influential Theologia Platonica, asserts that those who purify the soul actually not only become God's agents, imitating God through their creative endeavors, but they are at times also granted the po wer to assist Him in restoring aspects of the fallen world to their pre-lapsarian purity. Marsilio Ficino, Theologie Platonicienne de l'immortalitate des ames/Theologia Platonica de l'immortalitate animorum. Ed. and trans. Raymond M arcel. 3 vols. Paris: Societe d'edition "Les Belles Lettres," 1964-70; quoted from John S. Mebane, "Metad rama and the Visionary Imagination in Dr. Faustus and The Tempest," South Atlantic Review 53(1 988): 25-6.

Collectively thinking of Prospero's narrative on the nature and origin of his magic at the outset of the poem, and of the substance of his magic exercise, those facts do not give any problem to readers in placing him as a philosopher-mag us in the Renaissance period. Furthermore, they parallel some of the criteria of Agrippa, who emphasizes that "the tradition of Magicall art rightfully and lawfully prepared" is essential to the practice of white magic and entail s consecration of books and study (Agrippa, III, lxii, 540).

But Prospero's further mentioning of his magic in the latter part of the play makes us doubt his magic. Right aft er Prospero realizes that "foul conspiracy of the beast Caliban and his confederates against my life" (IV, i, 139-41) is imminent, he tells Ferdinand with rather a dispirited tone:

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 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. Sir, I am vex'd;

Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled:

Be not disturb'd with my infirmity:

If you be pleas'd, retire into my cell,

And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk,

To still my beating mind. (IV, i, 148-163)

Let's move to another set of lines, where Prospero is again speaking of his magic, of himself as a magician. He says,

--I have bedimm'd

The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds,

And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault

Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder

Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak

With his own bolt; the strong-bas'd promontory

Have I made shake, and by the spurs pluck'd up

The pine and cedar: graves at my command

Have wak'd their sleepers, op'd, and let'em forth

By my so potent Art. But this rough magic

I here abjure; and, when I have requir'd

Some heavenly music,--which even now I do,--

To work mine end upon their senses, that

This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff,

Bury it certain fadoms in the earth,

And deeper than did eve plummet sound

I'll drown my book. (V, i, 41-57)

Just as the blank feeling the play-director has just after the play ends, the mood of despair and disappointment appear s to be deeply embedded in Prospero's dialogue with Ferdinand. Prospero's confidence in the potential power of his mag ic which we can feel in the former part of the play fades, and the gloomy and dark atmosphere pervades the play. Moreo ver, the disconcerting diction--"Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes, and groves" (V, i, 33)--in Prosper o's invocation is inconsistent with the general picture of his white magic, lifting us suddenly into a world of Medeas, of the old enchantresses. Though critics such as Robert West, C. J. Sisson and Harry Levin find the phrase quite anithe tical to the general description of Prospero and his magic in light of the Renaissance tradition, they leave that proble m uncovered and just point it out as one of the ambiguous aspects in judging Prospero's magic (Robert West, 80-95; C. J. Sisson, 76; Harry Levin, 56).

Just as Prospero's enchantments--borrowed from Ovid's Media who does not seek spiritual growth, but seeks instead godlike control over the natural and supernatural growth--conflict with his conception as a white magician, he appears t o us as a kind of pagan enchanter in his magic control over the sun, the winds, and the sea. He further claims that thro ugh his "potent Art," graves have "op'd" and let forth their sleepers. Reginald Scot scoffed at suc h claims: only God and Jesus had, he said, such powers (Reginald Scot, 1-2). In this view, Prospero's exercise of such power here entirely conflicts with his role as magus whose power consists solely of the ability to help fulfill God's pr ovidence, never to thwart it. Although the moment is brief, it is a powerful one which will be helpful to solve the pro blem of ambiguity in Prospero's magic. In addition, it's answer is closely related with Prospero's abrupt abjuration of his potent art for which he has been celebrated since his initial dedication to it in Milan. "My so potent Art " becomes, within a single line, "the rough Magicke," and Prospero's language lifts him out of the magic tradition of theurgist, placing him into another magic tradition of goetist.

If Prospero's magic is "so potent," it is not clear why it suddenly changes to "rough." Prosp ero does not need his magical power any more, because he accomplishes what he desires to attain. Or his self-awareness or self-discovery drives him to abjure his magic which has its limitations. As mentioned earlier, Prospero's project to bring all his subjects into repentance or regeneration does not succeed in the end. Andrew V. Ettin makes this point: "The character most transformed is the one who is himself most noble and most vulnerable, Alonso; the best of thos e whom this magic touches (Ferdinand and Gonzalo) have nothing to learn from it; the worst (the various 'foul' conspirat ors of the island) are merely cowed by it" (Andrew V. Ettin, 286). With this point of view, considering the moody a nd melancholic air in his final speech and the epilogue, Prospero's abjuration of his magic is due not to the successful accomplishment of his project, but to its failure to affect his subjects' inner life.

In this case, by "rough" Prospero means us to understand that he is experiencing a strong sense of limit ations against his magic. It is not surprising that Prospero's movement of mind in the above speech represents a volte- face from his role as a philosophical magus to a man whose mortality places him among the black witches and leads direct ly to his repudiation of magic: "I'll drown my book," and "retire me to my Milan, where/Every third thoug ht shall be my grave" (V, i, 310-11). Moreover, the simple fact that the drama begins in its penultimate phase, wi th Prospero reaching his zenith, and his years of adversity now behind him: "Another hour or houre/Lies at my mercy all mine enemies" (II, i, 263-4) implicitly tells us that his magic is on the decline. For the detailed study on t he reason for the fastidious punctuality on Prospero's part, see, Cosmo Corfield, 39-40; he sees specifically 6 p.m., as "a period of Prospero's high magical possibility, available only while the 'most auspicious star' is properly posi tioned in the heavens." Moreover, Prospero's frequent allusion to time-limit in the play might be related with the traditional idea that the white magician usually conducts his benevolent works either to cure the individual through he rb or to reconcile rebels and thus bring order to a confused state at an auspicious astrological moment; see, Dav id Woodman, White Magic and English Renaissance Drama (Rutherford: Fairleigh Dickinson UP, 1973), 64.

These facts show that Prospero's abjuration does not come from the accomplishment of the project, but from his realiza tion of limitations in his art. Careful attention to the exercise of Prospero's magic and its final effect on his subje cts enables us to understand why he deprecates his magic, and ultimately abjures it.

In order to understand the exercise of Prospero's magic correctly, it is important to examine the nature of its ex ecutor, Prospero. The awareness of his nature as a magician makes it possible to be more accessible to his handling wit h his subjects under his magic power. Though it is difficult and intricate to examine Prospero's nature, I agree with R obert Egan's argument that he is an idealist who shows his lack of vision to the real world and the dark side of humanit y (Egan, 175-77). We learn from Prospero's relation of his story to Miranda that such a flaw in his nature results from his commitment to his studies. His years of seclusion in his library have instilled in him a moral perspective rooted not in the real world but in the ideals of his magic. Significantly, he still prizes his volumes above his dukedom, and insists on judging the real world by his own absolutes. In his reaction to Antonio's evil act: "That a brother sh ould be/Be so perfidious!" (I, ii, 67-8), we can perceive Prospero's surprise and bitterness at the contradiction b etween what a brother should be ideally and what he is actually. Prospero's incredulity on the existence of evil in the world suggests his naive vision of human nature. But here I do not mean to deny that, as I mentioned in the beginning of the paper, the nature and origin of Prospero's magic coincides with that of the Renaissance magi's magic, nor to say that he has "morally" flawed vision innately, with which I do not believe Prospero could receive such a dear l ove from his people (I, ii, 141). What I stress here is Prospero's naive vision of reality and humanity.

The passing of time has not brought him new understanding of them. Unlike Miranda's simple but somewhat realistic view on human nature,

I should sin

To think but nobly of my grandmother:

Good wombs have born bad sons. (I, ii, 118-120)

It appears that such an acknowledgement of evil as a part of the natural condition of man is unacceptable to Prospero. In a word, Prospero himself has a short-sighted and naive moral vision of the real world and human nature. This is mad e more clear in his relationship to Caliban. After Caliban's attempted assult on Miranda happens, Prospero, who trusted him as much as he did Antonio, relegates Caliban to the status of an inhuman creature, connecting his evil with the spe cies of a devil-begotten, "poisonous slave" (I, ii, 321), and "earth" (I, ii, 316), a "filth " who deserved "stripes..., not kindness" (I, ii, 347). As Robert Egan points out, Prospero overlooks th e fact that Caliban's evil is an essentially human characteristic and that a Caliban exists even in the best of men, as alluded to in his own comparison of Ferdinand to Caliban: "To th' most of men this is a Caliban,/And they to him ar e angels" (l. 483) (Egan, 176). By extention, Prospero's naive moral vision and his lack of tolerance to human nat ure makes him not only miss the conflict in human nature between Caliban--the material and earthly world--and Ariel--the ideal and celestial world, but also not accept man's middle nature.

The fact that Prospero's moral perception will not permit him to acknowledge the existence of evil in human beings nor to accept reconciliation of a conflict between a Caliban and an Ariel in the human mind is reflected in the feature s of his magic. Prospero rehearses in the renunciation speech the types of magical power he has possessed. He speaks in the course of the play of having two "slaves," Caliban and Ariel. We observe that his magic is strictly idea tional with no material existence. And it is a magic of agency operated by the air, or spirits. Since Ariel's powers a re music, poetry and spectacle as well as fear and terror, which is clearly shown in the stage directions of both Ariel' s entrance and exit, he can do whatever his mind can do and that is everything that can be perceived. The special featur e of Prospero's magic is the drawing of a line between the material world and the world of ideas. In short, the fact th at Prospero's magic is solely performed by the air and the meaner spirits suggests that just as Prospero himself cannot accept human imperfections, his magic also throughout the play is, as Hardin Craig says, "too highly idealized to w ithstand the intrusions of reality" (Craig, 13).

Prospero intially shuns Caliban he refers to as "thou earth" (I, ii, 316) or as a "thing of darknes s" (V, i, 275), and instead aspires toward Ariel's airiness. Cosmos Corfield accounts for Ariel and Caliban in ter ms of an allegory of Prospero's mind, and sees Caliban as contaminating earthiness (externalizing Prospero's human limit ations) just as Ariel represents the world of goodness he is aspiring to (Corfield, 33-6). As suggested in Prospero's f irst remarks on his magic: "....all dedicated/To closeness and the bettering of my mind" (I, ii, 89-90), Prosp ero's dedication to the secret studies aims at transcending the Caliban within his mind, that is, his human imperfection s. In spite of the lapse of time, he still firmly depends on his flawless moral vision of the real world, and believes that this vision can be equally applied to all his subjects through exercising his magic power. By working magic " upon their senses" (V, i, 53), Prospero believes that he can make "their understanding begin to swell," a nd flood their "foul and muddy" minds with reason (V, i, 79-82). Prospero appears to consider that he can cat egorically draw all his subjects into his world of goodness and purity, freeing them from their human defects. Prospero 's naive perception on humanity and the real world makes him think of his magic as "rough," ultimately leading him to abjure it. Furthermore, in applying his power to his subjects, manipulating their lives, judging their flaws and setting standards of goodness for them, his arbitrary exercise of theurgical power frequently comes to confuse his role as a magician with the role of God.

Considering that the space of the play is a restricted island free from the complexities of human society in civil ized countries, we are tempted to read the poem as a symbolic representation of a world in which Prospero like God, all- powerful and all-knowing, exercises his direct control over his subjects without any restricted conditions. In a word, the fault in his application of magic to his subjects lies in his usurpation of the divine prerogative of justice withou t realizing his humanity. Robert Egan notes that "the line between theurgy and necromancy could be thin at times, and the magus could easily cross it unawares" without a comprehensive and clear vision of this world and humanity ( Egan, 175). This suggests another sense in which Prospero considers his magic as inappropriate to the real human needs. In the end, this enables him to recognize that he is a flawed human being, as Caliban and Antonio are: "this thin g of darkness I/Acknowledge mine"(V, i, 275-76). This passage establishes that his humanity irretrievably includes the lower elements of human nature. And he comes to realize not only that the two different worlds cannot be reconcile d, but also that his ideal vision cannot penetrate into the inner nature of his subjects.

Prospero's other flaw in his nature, his lack of emotional control in the process of applying his magic power, dri ves readers to doubt the substance of his magic in the theurgical tradition. Prospero is introduced to us as an uneasy, irritable old man who cannot control his passion. Frank Kermode, noting the resemblances between The Tempest and Sidea in the fairy-tale aspect of the play, says that "both Prospero and the father of Ayrer's Sidea are ir ascible is, in the last analysis, explained by the fact that they descend from a bad-tempered giant magician" (Kerm ode, lxiii).

W. C. Curry tells us that the theurgist "must slough off passion and transcend its former life, exchanging it fo r a life in the gods," (Curry, 180) and John Symonds also reminds us: "The practicing magician has...to lead a strictly pure life." John Symonds, The Great Beast, The Life and Magick of Aleister Crowley (London: Mayflo wer, 1906), 37. Agrippa also points out piety, temperance, and discipline as the virtues of white magician, see, III, lxii, 540.

According this point of view, Prospero's willfulness and his lack of emotional control in the exercise of his power o ver his subjects is definitely out of the proper requisites for the theurgist. Prospero's lack in his control of emotio ns is revealed not only in his attitude toward his subjects but also in his use of language. As alluded to in Ferdinand 's words: "your father's in some passion/That works him strongly" (IV, i, 142-43), frustration which co mes from the interruption of exercising his magic power easily turns Prospero into an uneasy and irritable old man whose "brain is troubled" and whose mind is beating (IV, i, 163).

In addition, Prospero, without control and concealment, reaks his anger and venom not only on his enemies, but als o on the agency of his magic, Ariel, and Ferdinand. To Prospero, Sycorax is "this damned witch" (I, ii, 263), and Antonio is "perfidious" (I, ii, 68). In particular, when Ariel requests his premature freedom from his m aster, Prospero uses the term "malignant" with Ariel to show his anger. Though Prospero feigns to be unsympat hetic and even cruel to both Ferdinand and Miranda who sympathizes for Ferdinand's situation, his threatening language t o Ferdinand is not quite appropriate for the theurgist who should "slough off passion":

I'll manacle thy neck and feet together:

Sea-water shalt thou drink; thy food shall be

The fresh-brook mussels, wither'd roots, and husks

Wherein the acorn cradled. (I, ii, 464-67)

Prospero's unchecked passion culminates in his attitude toward the enemies who attempt to conspire against his project:

Go charge my goblins that they grind their joints

With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews

With aged cramps; and more pinch-spotted make them

Than pard or cat o' mountain (IV, i, 258-61)

Cosmo Corfield points out that "the contaminating quality" of Prospero's language here together with the eart h-rooted one shows a close verbal approximation to Caliban's (Corfield, 36-7):

All the infections that the sun sucks up

From bogs, fens, flats, on Prospero fall, and make him

By inch-meal a disease! (II, ii, 1-3)

This raises doubt on Prospero's quality as a theurgist who should be of purified mind, and also suggests that the lower elements or the earthliness of his humanity as a mortal being exists within his nature without his acknowledging them. At the end of the play, Prospero's realization that his humanity irretrivably includes an earthly nature drives him to f eel vanity of his magic poignantly. These defects within Prospero's character, which undermine his status as a Hermetic magus in the Renaissance occult tradition and function to make him renounce his magic, lead us to liken the hero to a t ragic protagonist of Greek mythology.

Above all, the ultimate factor which drives Prospero to realize the limitations of his magic and to return to the conventional world is the magic effect on his subjects. Stephen Miko notes that Prospero's magic has its limitations in several ways: "it does not touch man's inner nature; its use descends into stage shows and trickery; it must be pu t aside fully to confront the 'real' world (outside island and play)" (Stephen J. Miko, 7-8). Although many critic s hold the traditional view that Prospero's magic aims at bringing out repentance in his subjects. However, according t o Andrew Attin's point of view regarding Prospero's magic effect on his enemies which I mentioned earlier, Prospero is in reality either deluded about his own magic power or resigned to changing his behavior without affecting his subjects ' inner life. Prospero's magic is a mere impression in the minds of the audience without factual support. More extreme ly, Prospero's magic is not that of a philosophical magus whose aim lies in bringing spiritual transformation into human mind, but a kind of juggler who arouses illusion or dream from the audience. For the further study on Prospero's magic in the context of the Juggler tradition, see, Barbara Mowat, 297-301. See also David Young, The Heart's Forest: A St udy of Shakespeare's Pastoral Plays (New Haven and London, 1872), 166; he argues that a great part of Prospero's mag ic art based on visual deception and display is analoguous to the world of the theater in which it all takes place. He goes on saying that "the difference lies in the victimization of the magician's audiences, which can seldom pierce the appearance to discover what lies behind, a difference that is underlined by the open artifice of The Tempest. "

Although the audience is surely impressed by the ability of his magic power to disintegrate and reassemble the ship t hrough the tempest, cast spells and pinch out punishments, all these do not help Prospero's ultimate project into coming to fruition.

Prospero's magic power only makes his subjects reveal their inner selves. But when released from his magic charms or trance, the selves everyone finds are much the same as they were earlier. His magic art does not cause them to expe rience any inner change at all. Ariel produces the magical sleep of Alonso, Gonzalo, Adrian, and Francisco in II, i as a kind of test to know what their true identity is. Although Antonio and Sebastian feel happy to resist the "stran ge drowsiness" that possesses the others, they are actually in the more powerful influence of Ariel's magic. The ef fect of Ariel's charms has been to free Antonio and Sebastian to reveal their true natures to us. When they agree to ki ll the king, Alonso, Ariel terminates his spell on the other companions and returns them to their everyday behavior.

But Prospero's testing of the court members does not end in this scene. In the harpy scene (III, iii), Prospero in visibly appears "on the top" (III, iii, 17), while observing not only Ariel and the meaner ministers performin g his directions but also the reactions of the group. As in the former scene, Ariel merely creates the intoxicated cond itions under which Antonio and Sebastian are free to be themselves. Although Alonso, Antonio, and Sebastian all experie nce a burden of guilty conscience, only the madness of Alonso leads him to confess his past crimes and to reveal " heart-sorrow" in the present.

O, it is monstrous! monstrous!

Methought the billows spoke, and told me of it;

The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder,

That deep and dreadful organ pipe, pronounc'd

The name of Prosper: it did base my trespass. (III, iii, 95-99)

At the moment when Alonso feels remorse, the discordant sounds of the tempest are miraculously transformed into music. And yet, Antonio and Sebastian reaffirm their determination to resist penitance and regeneration. They respond with bl ustery defiance:

Seb. But one fiend at a time,

I'll fight their legions o'er.

Ant. I'll be thy second. (III, iii, 102-03)

Prospero's achievement through exercising his magic charms here is, as Ellen Belton argues, "not the transformatio n of these men, but the demonstration of their fundamental consistency" (Ellen R. Belton, 133) in nature. This vie w confirms the critical belief that Antonio and Sebastian, despite Prospero's best efforts, remain unrepentant until the play ends. In short, Prospero's magic does not extend to natural evil which is embedded in human nature.

The banquet scene staged by Prospero's magic involves another limitation as well--the disconnection of his magic p ower with reality. It comes to nothing in the real-world life. It is important to make a comparison between Gonzalo and the two villains, Antonio and Sebastian, in their attitude of seeing the island (II, i, 53-68). This comparison reveal s that the two characters are earthly-bound, cynical and materialistic, which echoes Caliban's characteristics. Antonio and Sebastian do not believe in travellers' tales of unicorns or the phoenix, until they are perforce initiated into th e "subtleties o' the' isle" (V, i, 124). Contrary both to Gonzalo's imaginative and ideal mind in which the d iscordant sounds of the tempest are miraculously transformed into harmonious music and to Antonios noble and sympathetic mind in which a mysterious song in the storm whispers the secret of his own soul, Antonio's conception of reality is a corollary of his materialistic and cynical conception of human personality, his denial of the "deity" within t he human bosom:

Ay, sir; where lies that? If 'twere a kibe,

'Twould put me to my slipper: but I feel not

This deity in my bosom. (II, i, 271-73)

As the metaphor of the tempest as alchemy suggests, though Prospero's magic art might change his subjects in their oute r appearance, it, as in the case of Antonio and Sebastian say, cannot penetrate into their conventional world and human nature. Prospero's declaring of his magic as "rough" comes right after his realization that his magic is inef fective and nothing in reality.

The limitation of Prospero's magic--that it cannot touch the human personality--is made clear not only in its failure to bring his enemies into true repentance, but also in its incapacity to penetrate into the lovers' minds. Pros pero's purpose is to remove lust from Ferdinand's inner mind, to make the ceremony of marriage more celestial without in terruption of earthly things. Prospero's magic actually does not have any influence on the union between Ferdinand and Miranda. The natural attraction between the two lovers makes the marital relationship accomplished. Prospero's subsequ ent testing of the lovers demonstrates that their affection springs not from Prospero's magic effect, but from an intuit ive recognition of each other's worth and their own natural affinity. He openly acknowledges the purpose of his previou s hardheartedness:

All thy vexations

Were but my trials of thy love, and thou

Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore Heaven,

I ratify this my rich gift. (IV, i, 5-8)

By giving his blessing to the lovers, Prospero only ratifies the choice they have voluntarily made in spite of his pret ended opposition.

The vulnerability of Prospero's magic art in its confrontation with reality and materiality is revealed once again. His magic shows vanish without trace or consequence by the sudden intrusion of reality and the bestial humanity repres ented by Caliban and the other conspirators. I think that Prospero's magic charms shift in emphasis from potent magic t o tricks in the masque, a creation of Prospero's imagination. Prospero's magic power conjures up the masque as a betroth al ceremony between Ferdinand and Miranda. As the fact that Prospero's magic is operated by Ariel's powers closely linke d with the world of music, poetry, and spectacle, suggests, the mask is as full of sound effects as the isle is full of noises. Most of them are evoked by Ariel, who symbolizes the celestial world or godlike humanity. Prospero's magic ad ministered by Ariel is associated with music, as Ferdinald implies: "This is a most majestic vision, and/Harmoniou s charmingly" (IV, i, 118-19). However, the musical harmony of "a thousand twangling Instruments" (III, ii, 135) is broken by Caliban, who represents the earthly thing or bestial humanity. After the interruption of " a strange hollow and confused noise" (IV, i, 138), the dancing nymphs and reapers vanish into thin air.

The masque serves as a metaphor for revealing the limitation of Prospero's magic art, and by extension, his imagin ative and ideational world. Its limitation here is closely linked with Prospero's lack of clear vision of the real worl d and human nature. His tragic flaw is re-enacted in the masque scene which Ariel stages at Prospero's behest. It is im portant to remember that Caliban's intrusion into Prospero's mind cuts the masque short. The masque appears to be a com prehensive image of the real world in the sense that Prospero stages the celestial world represented by Ceres, Juno and Iris to harmonize with a betrothal ceremony between the two earthly lovers. Ironically, the masque is bound to fail, si nce it ignores the realities of post-lapsarian existence which are commonly inherent within the nature of humanity. The morally pure nature of Ceres, Juno, and Iris is belied by the approach of the true naturals, Caliban, Stephano, and Trin culo, who reveal their degraded nature. Prospero, who fails to come to terms with such real things, refers to the masqu e as a "vanity of mine Art" (IV, i, 41), illustrating that it is a projection of his mind. The masque demonst rates, as Cosmo Corfield argues, "Prospero's wish to transfer his system of perfectability and purity to the lovers " (Corfield, 46). Prospero's consciousness of Caliban stains his purity of moral vision, and it functions to lay t he imperfection embedded in his mind bare. In terms of the inner drama of his mind, Caliban is a reminder of Prospero's ineradicable lower nature which he has attempted to transcend from the beginning of the play. Prospero' s crisis speech immediately follows his abrupt remembrance of Caliban's "foul conspiracy" (IV, i, 139):

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 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. Sir, I am vex'd;

Bear with my weakness; my old brain is troubled:

Be not disturb'd with my infirmity:

I you be pleas'd, retire into my cell,

And there repose: a turn or two I'll walk,

To still my beating mind. (IV, i, 148-63)

In fact, his crisis seems causally related to the intrusion it makes into his consciousness. At a literal level, this is puzzling in that Caliban's clumsy murder plot hardly poses a threat to Prospero's sophisticated magical power. Nonet heless, it seems to have created a disturbance in his mind. Symbolically considering the relationship between Prospero and Caliban in terms of an allegory of Prospero's mind, the masque provides Prospero with the painful moment when he rea lizes poignantly that he is a part of humanity, as Caliban is. Furthermore, it is through the masque as a creation of P rospero's imagination that his magic art, as he confirms, cannot be applied to the real world represented by the villain s of both the island and Milan as effectively as to the ideal world represented by Gonzalo, Alonso, and Ferdinand.

A group of drunkards, Stephano and Trinculo including Caliban represent the darkness or evil inherent in human nat ure. Most critics share the common view on Caliban's qualities that Caliban is not a devil, though evil and unredeemable , but a type of humanity. Prospero claims that Caliban was "got by the devil himself"(I, ii, 321), but there is no concrete proof of this. Caliban, who makes frequent references to his mother and her god, never mentions an infer nal father. His qualities as character are clearly not devil but human. Stephen Miko defines Caliban as "a kind o f reverse metamorphosis from Ariel, the soaring spirit collapsed into the undeniable body"(Stephen Miko, 15).

From the begining till the end of the play, it is man's degraded nature that Prospero has either ignored or attempte d to transcend through his dedication to the magic art. In the case of the group of drunkards whose reason is absent, h e also practices his magic. The progressive drunkenness of Stephano, Trinculo, and Caliban is the base equivalent of th e high-born characters' trances, but they are not subjected to any real challenges. Instead of freeing them to change, they only reveal the baseness within their nature as the courtly villains do. In the end, Prospero despairs of the rede mption of the low nature in all men, and it turns him from despair to rage and vengeance: "I will plague them all/E ven to roaring" (IV, i, 192-3). This fact demonstrates that his magic is ineffective and nothing in confrontation with the real world, that is, with human nature, and it also suggests that Prospero himself has the base qualities of hu manity unawares.

The masque, in relation to the conspiracy schemed by the lower-born characters, raises a question of whether human ity is bestial or godlike, Caliban or Ariel(though the implied answer should be that we are both). The failure of Prosp ero's magic lies in his flawed moral perspective on which his magic is exercised. That is, Prospero's tragic flaw origi nates from his willfulness not to admit the middle nature(the mixture of a Ariel and a Caliban) in man, and from his mis conception of himself as god rather than man in exercising his magic art. The scene of the masque is just this reminder that Prospero needs to put himself into the category of humanity: "We are such stuff," painfully accepting hi s mortality and the reality of death: "Our little life/Is rounded with a sleep." For instance, his remark to Ferdinand: "Our revels now are ended," shows his nihilistic despair over his magic, antitheitical to the conf idence and affirmation he shows in the former part of the play, and it hardly squares with the cosmic vision we expect o f the theurgist. Prospero's magic career will be forfeited by his bitter realization that his magic is not appropriate to his real human needs. Furthermore, the wide disparity between the world of Ariel and that of Caliban through the ma sque leads him to realize that he is also a part consistent with the world of ordinary experiences: "...this thing of darkness I/Acknowledge mine" (V, i, 275-76).

But in spite of his acknowledgement that any attempt to put reality into the state of order or to change the base human mind into that of purification through his magic art is as good as an illusion, Prospero himself has not yet disco vered the cause of his failure. Prospero's own "noble reason," (V, i, 26) Ariel, forces him to discover his f ailure of recognizing both the humanity and the real world. Ariel checks his passion and anger which come from the disru ption of his magic exercises. Ariel in Prospero's mind arouses compassion and love toward human shortcomings, which Pro spero has been reluctant to accept so far:

Ari. . . . Your charm so strongly works 'em,

That if you now beheld them, your affections

Would become tender.

Pros. Dost thou think so, spirit?

Ari. Mine would, sir, were I human.

Pros. And mine shall. (V, i, 17-20)

Ariel touches Prospero's heart-string and drives him to realize that he is a part of humanity, good or evil, flawed or perfect. He is bound to forgive and accept human nature after all:

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling

Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,

One of their kind, that relish all as sharply

Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art?

Though with their high wrongs I am struck to th' quick,

Yet with my nobler reason 'gainst my fury

Do I take part: the rarer action is

In virtue than in vengeance. (V, i, 21-28)

In this case, the character who has most deeply undergone the spiritual transformation throughout the play is, iro nically, Prospero himself who had attempted to bring his subjects into moral regeneration. The moral purpose he serves with his magic benefits not the other characters but Prospero himself. His magic practices bring him to a full realizat ion of its limitations, and his understanding of humanity and reality begins to swell by the action of Ariel, Prospero's own "noble reason" (V, i, 26). By the end of the play, Prospero has made a complete transition from what D. P. Walker has called transitive magic, used to manipulate others, to subjective magic, directed inward to the control of himself (D. P. Walker, 82-3). His role as a theurgical magician is recovered only through his recognition that his aim is not to reak vengeance on his enemies but to lead them to undergo moral transformation themselves:

they being penitent,

The sole drift of my purpose doth extend

Not a frown further.

. . . they shall be themselves. (V, i, 28-30, 32)

At the close of the play, Prospero's project seems to end with a graceful resolution successfully. It appears tha t harmony and order, which chaos had threatened to reign over, come right after his abjuration of the ineffective magic, as demonstrated in the effect of his magic whose power is mainly music: ". . . Allaying both their fury and my pa ssion/With its sweet air" (Italics mine). It is not surprising to see that such change and development are fostered by Prospero's self-awareness of his magic's limitations. Everyone, including Prospero himself, is also changed for the better by their experience on the island. In the voyage to Milan, Gonzaolo rejoices:

Did Claribell her husband find at Tunis,

And Ferdinand her brother, found a wife,

Where he himselfe was lost, Prospero his Dukedome

In a poore isle, and all of us ourselves

When no man was his own. (V, i, 208-12)

Even to Caliban who is at a lower level of human nature, hope peeps out when he resolves to "be wise hereafter/And seek for grace" (V, i, 294-95).

But the ultimate goal that Prospero aims at has been undeniably aborted. I have suggested that the play involves Prospero and us in the discovery that his magic, absolute and potent, as it seems at the outset, has its limitations. I t cannot apparently alter man's evil nature. It achieves Ariel's cooperation only by a combination of threats and promi ses. And it has been distinctively unsuccessful with Caliban, a fact that seems to affect Prospero deeply (IV, i, 139-4 5, 188-93). In the end, Prospero's heart charged with anger and revenge on the wickedness of human nature gets softened by the action of Ariel. The recognition of the inefficacy of his magic and of the flaws in his nature drives him to acc ept realities of the world and human nature. He is inevitably bound to forgive his enemies by his defeat in confronting reality. I do not think that Prospero's unconditional acceptance of human nature and his forgiveness brings out his ab juration of "rough" magic. Since Prospero has failed, his magic and his willful exercise of it has led him to obscure his obligations as a theurgical magus; he is compelled to abjure it.

This is made clear in Prospero's attitude and his "diminished" image from a authoritative father to an o ld man in the epilogue. Prospero's painful and reluctant admission of the limitations of his magic and to returning to conventional society is well revealed in his forgiveness of Antonio:

Flesh and blood,

You, brother mine,

. . .

I do forgive thee,

Unnatural though thou art. (V, i, 74-5, 78-9)

This passage gives us an impression that Prospero's pardoning of Antonio is not natural, but rather unwilling. The wor ds come haltingly. Robert Egan notices that "Prospero must force himself to forgive by sheer strength of will, rep eating his pardon twice during the scene as if to convince himself, and emphasizing each time his detestation of the "unnatural" evil he accepts as 'flesh and blood'" (Egan, 181). Furthermore, Prospero's tone in accepting his kinship with Caliban: "this thing of darkness I/Acknowledged mine" seems moody and melancholic, as repeat ed at the end of the play: "'Tis new to thee"..."Every third thought shall be my grave"..."I sh all miss thee"..."And my ending is despair."

The sharp contrast in atmosphere is provided by Ariel, now also free to return to his native element, whose expres sion is pure joy, and by Miranda's life wish: "O brave new world,/That has such people in't!" (V, i, 183-84). In this sense, the mysteries of Prospero's two speeches about magic (IV, i, 148-58 & V, i, 33-57) weigh upon our he art, as Rebecca West says, "reticent but final as nightfall" (Rebecca West, 58). Prospero's admittance that h is project ends up in a state of incompletion and his painful reconciliation with the conventional world have left him a s an old man and a humiliated mage in the epilogue. The ending of the play, however, provides neither the comic, in Pr ospero's begging mercy from the audience, nor the tragic tone, in his realizing of mortality. Instead, it is somethin g skeptical and suspended:

Now I want

Spirits to enforce, Art to enchant;

And my ending is despair,

Unless I be reliev'd by prayer,

Which pierces so, that it assaults

Mercy itself, and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardon'd be,

Let your indulgence set me free. (Epilogue, 13-20)

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