PROSPERO 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 moved 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. They being penitent,
The sole drift of my purpose shall extend
Not a frown further. Go, release them, Ariel.
My charms I’ll break; their senses I’ll restore;
And they shall be themselves.
ARIEL I’ll fetch them, sir. Exit. (5.1.21-32)
Prospero’s emotional life is both fascinating and deeply messed up. (He is a dramatic fiction. The character’s emotional life… It is a weird, almost theatrical study in the study and performance of emotion, as if he’s doing an exercise.) As in his distress at the end of the masque, which he initially seemed to transfer to Ferdinand, to enable him to articulate as much to himself as to Ferdinand and Miranda some kind of explanation and consolation, here he thinks through another’s emotional response in order to calibrate and even experience his own. It’s as if he has to reflect or even triangulate his feelings through Ariel, with the proviso that whatever Ariel, who is but air, is feeling, Prospero will feel more. There’s a wonderful effect in the syntax whereby Ariel seems to be being termed air, a touch, a feeling– yes, that’s Ariel exactly, air, a touch, a feeling – before the sentence continues – of their afflictions: if Ariel, who isn’t human, and cannot, apparently, feel, has even a little sense of how the Neapolitans are suffering and pities them, then surely Prospero, who is human (there’s a quibble on kindlier, as in human kind; these are his kin, both as family and as human) should respond to their suffering every bit as intensely as they do, and be moved much more than Ariel? But he cannot let go of his pain: though with their high wrongs I am struck to the quick, I am deeply, deeply wounded (and again he cannot name his brother) – yet (and here he gets a grip) with my nobler reason ’gainst my fury – my mind is superior to, and stronger than, my anger. Magnanimity, and mercy, are the superior moral response, far superior to revenge: the rarer action is in virtue than in vengeance. (He’s had quite a bit of vengeance along the way; the king in particular has suffered dreadfully, and is still suffering.) If they’re penitent, that’s enough; everything that I planned, my entire scheme, shall go on not a moment longer; it won’t extend one frown further. Go, release them, Ariel. (Ariel, who is not free themself.) My charms I’ll break (recalling and anticipating other breakages). Their senses I’ll restore; and they shall be themselves. (But will Prospero be restored, to his dukedom? Will he be himself again. And what about Ariel?) Off Ariel goes: I’ll fetch them, sir.
