Nature and nurture, and trumpery (all that glisters…) (4.1.185-193SD) #StormTossed

PROSPERO     Thy shape invisible retain thou still.

The trumpery in my house: go bring it hither,

For stale to catch these thieves.

ARIEL                                                             I go, I go.                     Exit.

PROSPERO     A devil, a born devil, on whose nature

Nurture can never stick; on whom my pains

Humanely taken—all, all lost, quite lost!

And, as with age his body uglier grows,

So his mind cankers. I will plague them all,

Even to roaring. Come, hang them on this line.

 

Enter ARIEL, loaden with glistering apparel, etc. (4.1.185-193SD)

 

Is it in fact the case that Ariel is invisible for more of the play than they are visible? They may well be rendered invisible by the sea nymph costume that they are explicitly described as wearing – but one can’t help imagining a wonderfully circular conversation with wardrobe: well, if they’re invisible, they won’t be needing a costume, will they? Maybe Ariel is sick of being invisible? Maybe that’s partly why they’re a bit grumpy? And now they’re being sent off on another job: go and get the trumpery. The whatery? Trumpery, here used to describe what will turn out to be flashy clothes, glistering apparel, specifically sparkly stuff, is so-called because it deceives. To trump is to deceive (oh yes), from the French tromper. (In the wooing scene in Henry V, when King Henry tells Princess Catherine that she is like an angel, she replies that ‘Les langues des hommes sont pleines de tromperies’, translated by Alice as ‘de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits’.) It’s theatrical costumes, above all, that could be so described: all that glistered was most definitely not gold, but almost certainly copper lace, much cheaper than gold lace, and purchased in vast quantities to trim stage costumes. All metal lace (braids and trimmings generally, as well as lace) was made by wrapping a thin metal wire around a silk core, whether it was gold or copper or silver. Copper lace was used to refresh costumes which had become shabby, to replace the more expensive gold lace which had been removed for sale (it was bought by goldsmiths to be smelted for its metal content) or for reuse when garments themselves were sold (many theatrical costumes were bought by the companies second-hand) – or simply to add a bit of additional bling. Copper lace was so strongly associated with the theatre that it was sometimes applied, pejoratively, to actors themselves; part of the comedy here might be that Ariel will bring costumes which are old favourites, now on their last legs, associated with particular roles or actors but now too shabby to be used. It’s not necessarily clear from what Prospero tells Ariel that the trumpery will specifically be the glistering apparel; all he specifies is that it will be used as stale, as bait, a decoy, to catch the thieves. (Ariel clearly knows what he means; this plan might already have been made.)

Enough textile trumpery. It’s once Ariel departs that Prospero comes to his obsession: Caliban, whom he does not even name: a devil, a born devil – so far, so familiar. On whose nature nurture can never stick; on whom my pains humanely taken—all, all lost, quite lost! Caliban is Prospero’s failure, and it rankles and galls; on some level, perhaps, Prospero has failed Caliban. I tried to teach him, to train him, to bring out the best in him, he says, but it didn’t work, I couldn’t change what I now think is his essential nature. It’s a striking insight into Prospero’s relationship with Caliban, and how it has soured and frustrated both of them. (A comparison, obviously, with the relationship between Ariel and Prospero, which, however fraught, seems at times almost telepathically symbiotic.) And a further angle: as with age his body uglier grows, so his mind cankers. This is what Prospero both loathes and fears, that with maturity will come not insight, dignity, fulfilment, but corruption and decline, malignancy. (He is also, of course, justifying his own treatment of Caliban, as a hated slave: there was no choice, I couldn’t educate him out of his essential nature.) And a final vindictive touch: I will plague them all, even to roaring. I’ll make them suffer. I’ll make them squeal.

And finally: hang the apparel on this line – which could either be a clothes line (a nice domestic touch; unlikely to be rotary, alas) or a linden or lime tree.

 

 

 

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