Discovered, playing at chess (5.1.162-171SD) #StormTossed

PROSPERO                                         No more yet of this,

For ’tis a chronicle of day by day,

Not a relation for a breakfast, nor

Befitting this first meeting. – Welcome, sir.

This cell’s my court; here have I few attendants,

And subjects none abroad. Pray you, look in,

My dukedom since you have given me again,

I will requite you with as good a thing,

At least bring forth a wonder to content ye

As much as me my dukedom.

Here Prospero discovers Ferdinand and Miranda, playing at chess. (5.1.162-171SD)

Prospero, still entirely in control, of events and of the narrative; he will tell the story when he’s good and ready, because it’s going to take a while. It’s a history, to be told day by day, not a relation for a breakfast. This is an excellent category which should henceforth be adopted for all anecdotage: will this play well with porridge? What Prospero’s actually considering is brevity (a piece of toast, standing up, then, or just an espresso), or lack thereof: ‘table-talk’ is increasingly a category in both manuscript and in print in the early seventeenth century, recording and anthologising as models the witty sayings and stories of intellectuals and ‘men of letters’. Breakfast table-talk would presumably be briefer than the conversation at the dinner or supper table, and so this long, involved story would be entirely inappropriate – as it is for this first meeting. And now Prospero turns, once more, to the King, and to his point. They are, it seems, right outside his cell, almost certainly represented at the Globe and the Blackfriars by the inner stage or discovery space. This cell’s my court; I have few attendants and no other subjects, abroad meaning elsewhere, not here. (So Ariel and Caliban, and Miranda, are apparently not counted as his subjects; one a servant, apparently an indentured one; one a slave, one his daughter.) Then an invitation, and an offer: look here, inside. You’ve restored me to my dukedom, and I will reciprocate by giving you something every bit as good, and momentous, as that restoration; this wonder (Miranda, the wonder) will make you as happy as my dukedom restored does me. (And Ferdinand, not drowned, restored to his grieving father.) No spirits or goddesses descending, no harpy, no thunder and lightning, perhaps not even any music? No Ariel, no magic. Instead the simplest of purely theatrical reveals: a curtain drawn, to discover Ferdinand and Miranda, playing at chess. It’s an innocent picture, and a courtly one, a staple of medieval romance. (Below, just because, is a picture of the Burghley Nef, the astonishing table sculpture of a ship, made in Paris in 1527-8; it includes tiny figures of Tristan and Isolde, playing chess. I would like one for the disappearing banquet.) Miranda demonstrates, in an instant, that she has been brought up with the accomplishments of a prince and, implicitly, with the political astuteness associated with the game. Seated together, engaged in a shared activity, she and Ferdinand present an image of equality and mutuality – and shared intelligence. And as they manipulate the pieces, the kings and queens and pawns, they also suggest another way in which Prospero has begun to give up his power, his control over the island and its inhabitants, temporary and permanent. Some of his non-magical power has already been ceded to the next generation.

Cheek by Jowl, 2011, Director – Declan Donnellan, Designer – Nick Ormerod , Credit: Johan Persson/

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