No Fear Shakespeare Pdf Tempest

[Mallory Chowansky]

Oneof my favorite Gospel passages is Mark 4:35-41, in which Jesus and the disciples are traveling across the Sea of Galilee at night. A supernatural storm arises and begins to capsize their boat. The disciples are terrified, but Jesus sleeps serenely through the storm. In the disciples' fear and anxiety, they awaken Jesus, who then stills the storm and asks the disciples, "Why are you afraid? Do you still have so little faith?" Often this passage is taught and preached as if Jesus means by his questions, "Didn't you know God wouldn't let our boat capsize?" But Jesus means no such thing. He doesn't promise that everything will turn out just fine, or that the boat will keep an even keel. Jesus lives in the gritty, real world, and he knows that sometimes the storms upend our lives. What Jesus means to convey to the disciples is that, even when the storms sink us, God is with us. That is how he can sleep in peace while the tempest rages.

God abides with us in love when we sail and when we sink. God shares our joy and bears our sorrow. Faith is the recognition and trust that there is no fathom we must endure without God. I have thought of this passage and this promise repeatedly this week as, for so many of us, brief periods of light and warmth have been surrounded by long stretches of cold and darkness. There is no storm in this life greater than the God who creates the heavens and the earth. There is no darkness in this world that can overcome God's light. It is my prayer that God's ever-presence with each of us be felt palpably in these days. We are, each and all, loved beyond measure, and, as we support one another every way we can, I pray that warmth of heart sustain us until warmth of hearth returns.

Grace and peace,

The Very Reverend Barkley Thompson,

Dean

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At the start all hell breaks loose. The beginning of the play is spectacular and action-packed. There are flashes of lightning, rolling thunder, and urgent shouts of distress. People are running about, either in sheer panic or in rapid, orchestrated labor. As we have heard, the opening stage direction says, "A tempestuous noise of thunder and lightning heard. Enter a Shipmaster and a Boatswain." The actors are shouting to be heard over the noise of the storm (the first word is pronounced, "bosun"):

19In the face of dire danger, the mariners work together with admirable skill and courage. "Yarely" (nimbly and diligently) and "cheerly" (heartily) are the key words used to characterize their cooperative action. The courtiers, who are their passengers, show far less patience or fortitude. Shakespeare differs from the Strachey letter's description of how both the sailors and passengers worked to save the ship. The change makes a political point about the possible failings even of high-ranking people just as it does about the possible abilities and virtues of commoners. The usually good-humored counselor Gonzalo turns his own fear of dying into a wish to see the Boatswain hanged: "his complexion is perfect gallows," he says. "Stand fast, good Fate, to his hanging. Make the rope of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little advantage" (TLN 37-40) Prospero's villainous brother Antonio, also terrified of the storm, puts the same wish more directly and rudely: "Hang, cur! hang, you whoreson, insolent noisemaker!" The Boatswain is abrupt enough in his turn, shouting at his social superiors to shut up and to get out of the way: "What cares these roarers for the name of king? To cabin; silence! Trouble us not!" (TLN 24-6).

20This scene of deafening noise, exploding fireworks, whirling action and angry exchange is, however, also one that features moments of poignant fellow feeling. The mariners work together yarely and cheerly, as we have seen. Once there seems no hope of saving the ship, they leave the stage to pray and to await their deaths. At the moment the ship seems to be breaking up, we hear them taking leave of their absent families and of each other--"We split, we split! Farewell, my wife and children! / Farewell, brother! We split, We split, We split!" (TLN 72-3) Even the villains Sebastian and Antonio, finally face-to-face with death, have the sense to think about someone beside themselves. They do not mention either prayer or divine mercy, but they do show a spark of compassion as they leave the stage to say good-bye to the King, who has stayed below decks during the storm. By the way, we can note that, even at this moment of noisy cataclysm, Shakespeare is taking care to make subtle but telling distinctions between characters: Antonio seems incapable of seeing anything except that everyone is going to drown, whereas Sebastian is thinking about the actual act of exchanging words of farewell:

22The storm scene shows us an artist at the top of his powers. In the sections that follow, we will look more closely at some of the brilliant features of structure, language, and character that make the play such a pleasure to read and perform, as well as at the history of the play as literature and as theater, but here it is important to understand Shakespeare not only as a supremely accomplished artist but also as a remarkably clear-eyed and compassionate thinker. Indeed from beginning to end, The Tempest is a philosophical drama that is intent on exploring the couplings of harshness and tenderness in human life; the play instructs its readers and spectators in complex and even contradictory ways of understanding and responding to the world and of holding these very different ways of seeing and feeling together.

23The harshness can come from nature, as it does, or seems to do, in the storm. And, as we have also seen, it can come from humankind, as when Antonio, frightened for his own life, curses the Boatswain and wishes him hanged. Prospero has a well-developed harsh side, which he keeps turned toward Caliban (who fears him more or less as the tortured fears the torturer) and a harshness that he can on occasion turn against Ariel or even his daughter. His most acerbic remark is aimed at Antonio--"most wicked sir -- whom to call brother / Would even infect my mouth -- I do forgive / Thy rankest fault" (TLN 2094-6). Antonio himself is capable of real cruelty, as we learn once Prospero begins to tell his story to his daughter Miranda in the second scene. Twelve years before the action of the play, Antonio handed his brother Prospero and Prospero's three-year-old daughter Miranda over to a "treacherous army," a small commando force directed by the Neapolitan counselor Gonzalo (more about him in Section 3). The poor man and little child were cast adrift at sea in an unseaworthy boat--"A rotten carcass of a butt: not rigged, / . . . The very rats / Instinctively have quit it (TLN 252-4)". But tellingly, the injury done to him as well as his own physical suffering engendered in Prospero a deep and enduring tenderness toward his daughter Miranda, who, he tells her, was an angel that kept him going through his hardship--

25Or consider this moment near the end of the play. Prospero has reintroduced himself to those who nearly caused his death and the death of his daughter. He transforms his anger into a painful lesson for Alonso, the King of Naples and the man whose imperialist ambitions meshed with the treachery of Antonio. Alonso has been made to believe that his son has drowned, and he has suffered inconsolable grief, until, in this scene, Prospero reveals the very much alive Ferdinand playing chess with Miranda. So preoccupied are the two young lovers that it takes them several moments to notice that they are not alone. Once they do become aware of Prospero, decked out in his duke's finery, and all the other members of the court party, Miranda says,

26Prospero responds in a bitterly ironic remark likely not intended to be heard by his daughter, "'Tis new to thee." How can we compass both Miranda's joy in the face of the beauty of humankind and Prospero's harsh response to the perfidy and selfishness of people? How can we hold two so diametrically opposed ideas about "mankind" in our minds? Shakespeare seems to be enjoining us to feel Miranda's sense of wonder fully and to grasp the soundness of Prospero's judgment of the men that stand together on the stage, excepting perhaps Gonzalo, and not to permit the one to displace the other.

The Tempest challenges its readers and spectators to respond thoughtfully and feelingly to its complex representation of the world, to judge without sentimentality and to empathize with those we judge. One of its principal ways that the play does this is by means of metatheater, which is the element of the drama that draws attention to the theatrical practices that underlie and produce the fictional world of the play and that also works to recruit the engaged participation of the audience.

29The Tempest is Shakespeare's most metatheatrical play. Prospero is a duke and a magician, but he also seems to be a dramatist. He orders Ariel into costume ("Go make thyself like a nymph o'th'sea" [TLN 433]) and praises his performance ("Bravely the figure of this harpy hast thou / Performed, my Ariel. A grace it had, devouring! / Of my instruction hast thou nothing bated / In what thou hadst to say" [TLN 1619-22]); and he orders up and presumably also writes a theatrical performance in honor of Miranda and Ferdinand's impending nuptials: "go bring the rabble / . . . here to this place. / Incite them to quick motion, for I must / Bestow upon the eyes of this young couple / Some vanity of mine art" (TLN 1691-5). The play follows the so-called "unity of time" so attentively that the time elapsed in performance is about the same as the time represented in the play world. Timing, which is one of Prospero's obsessions, is crucial for both effective magic and successful play-making:

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