Blooms Literary Themes - THE TRICKSTER.pdf - ymerleksi - home

Th e Tempest 193
under-current of humour and wit which makes sport with the obvious
danger to life and pending death. We, therefore, not only feel that there
is nothing very serious in the danger represented—and accordingly are
far from being aff ected by fear and pity, the state of mind which tragedy
would call forth—but we are, at the same time, transported into the
centre of the comic view of life, which evidently constitutes the basis of
the drama. We are challenged to laugh where otherwise we should weep.
And yet that which we see is the most ordinary experience, men such as
are met with every day, great and small, noble and common, according to
the usual standard and cut. Th is alone is also shown, that the real world
of folly, of moral weakness and mischief which we see in every-day experience
is, in truth, rather the perverted, unreal side, and that accordingly,
when light is thrown upon it, it is frequently most ludicrous where it
apparently manifests the greatest misery.
Th e second scene introduces us to Prospero’s cell, where we have
the old man, a noble and dignifi ed fi gure, with his magic mantle
and magic wand, accompanied by his daughter of rare beauty and
charming girlhood, in the midst of romantic scenery—all this must
make upon us the impression of something unusual and strange, and
yet still remains within the pale of nature. We have but advanced one
step further into the poetical world whither the poet intended to lead
us. Prospero then begins his story; with ever-increasing attention we
listen to the exceedingly well-told narrative which, it is true, still does
not exceed the bounds of real life, and yet, by reason of its extraordinary
substance, already verges very closely upon the domain of the
wonderful. Even Prospero’s frequent questions during his narrative, as
to whether Miranda is paying attention and whether she is not asleep,
etc., must surely awaken her profoundest interest, and according to
her own assurance, actually does; but these very questionings (about
which critics have in vain puzzled their brains) are, in my opinion,
but an artistic means of increasing the impression of the strangeness
which the scene is intended to create, and of introducing Miranda’s
actual falling asleep, which is subsequently induced by Prospero’s
magic. We are thus already so far prepared that the appearance of
Ariel and Prospero’s magic arts—which, moreover, are at fi rst introduced
gently and noiselessly—no longer cause astonishment. Th e poet
has succeeded in his object: our imagination is already in his poetical
world, is unconsciously pervaded by his intention, and, accordingly,
follows him willingly wherever he chooses to lead us.