When Prospero arrived on this island, I was not the airy spirit I am now. Oh dear me no – quite the reverse. I was trapped in the most hideous prison, and he was the only one with magic strong enough to rescue me. But no sooner had he given me my liberty than he made me his slave. He forced me to do his spriting, and I had no choice but to agree. For Prospero rescued me from a fate far, far worse than death.
He rescued me from Sycorax.
Oh, how that name fills me with horror, even now! Sycorax, you see, was a powerful, evil witch. She’d been banished to this island from Algeria, and they’d sent her away because of her unspeakably horrible spells. She was pregnant when she arrived (some say the father was the Devil!), and it was here that her son Caliban was born and still lives.
Now, at the time of Sycorax’s banishment I was her slave. She had me in her power, and I won’t tell you the things she wanted me to do, for they are far too vile to speak about. So vile, in fact, that one day I’d had enough – for I am a sensitive soul, despite my airiness. I couldn’t do her mischief any longer, and I refused. I knew I would face a dreadful punishment, but nothing, I thought, could be more soul-destroying than making evil for that witch.
How wrong I was.
Can you imagine the worst punishment anyone could give an airy spirit? Sycorax gave it to me. Bristling with fury at my defiance, she opened up a pine tree and bundled me inside. Then she knotted me into that dark, dank trunk, forcing me to become as still and as hard as the wood itself. My lightness was all gone and in its place was sap-filled darkness.
That prison was worse than unbearable. And then, as if that wasn’t bad enough, Sycorax died! That stone-hearted hag left me to eternal damnation.
Think of it. I, who love to hear the wind blow and the birds sing, locked in silence broken only by my own cries of despair. I, who live for the warmth of the sun and the light of the moon, locked in darkness blacker than the blackest night. And I, whose greatest joy is to glide and swoop, to dance in and out of the clouds, knotted into a wooden prison, unable to move.
For twelve long years I stayed there, thinking I would never get out. So, when Prospero arrived and heard my groans and used his magic to free me, is it any wonder I agreed to be his slave? And, although I never wanted to be under anyone’s control again, my new life as Prospero’s servant was far better than all those awful years with Sycorax. For every one of Prospero’s spells was a work of art and, even if it didn’t always seem to be, was cast for a good purpose. I may have moaned when I thought he worked me too hard, but carrying out his enchantments was always a pleasure.
Oh yes, I took great pride in my work, and – if an airy spirit can love – I loved my master. I respected him, too, for I knew that if I refused to do as he asked, I would be back inside another, bigger tree – with no hope of rescue! And so, after the tempest, when Prospero told me to prepare for the next spell, I calmed myself down and did as I was told.
This spell was to be a gentler affair; for it was a love-spell, and its young victim – King Alonso’s son Ferdinand – was to be enchanted by the greatest gift I possess.
My music.
Here’s the song I sang to Ferdinand, as he sat thinking sadly about his poor father. If he didn’t quite believe Alonso was drowned, then this song made sure he did. And that, of course, was exactly what Prospero wanted.
Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes;
Nothing of him that doth fade
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
It’s good, isn’t it? Do you hear how I made him think his father was not only dead, but turned into coral and pearl? Part of the ocean, just like me. I liked that, for it sweetened his sadness a little, and turned his thoughts to magic.
The spell worked, of course. That young man was spellbound by my music – for Ariel’s music enchants everyone who has the ears to hear it. Oh yes, I tied him with that music as strongly as if its notes had been cords. I used no force against him, yet he was my willing prisoner.
And he couldn’t even see me! Prospero had ordered me to become invisible for this spell, to blend in with the sand and the sea, so that’s exactly what I did. Using only my wonderful music, I led Ferdinand to Miranda, and then I made him fall in love with her, and she with him.
What a love-trap that was! Honey-sweet, and honey-smooth – but still as sticky a trap as ever was set. And all the while, I was as invisible as a sea-breeze.
Not that I really needed to be invisible. Ferdinand and Miranda wouldn’t have seen me even if I had changed myself into a huge blue whale, for straightaway those young people only had eyes for each other. Here’s what Miranda said about Ferdinand when she saw him:
I might call him
A thing divine; for nothing natural
I ever saw so noble.
I ask you! An ordinary-looking fellow, and she thought he looked like a god! What fools this ‘love’ makes of you humans. And Miranda wasn’t the only one to see things through a haze of magic. Ferdinand was every bit as enchanted.
Most sure, the goddess
On whom these airs attend!
was what he said.
Ah, young love! Not that I pretend to understand it, for it’s a human emotion that means nothing to me. Airy spirits aren’t bound by such forces, for what’s love but a prison?
Prospero, of course, was delighted to see his plan working perfectly. He wanted, more than anything, for his daughter to marry King Alonso’s son. That way, one day she’d be Queen of Naples. There had always been a feud between Milan and Naples, you see, and that was the only sure way to end it. At last Milan and Naples would be one kingdom, and Prospero’s family would be on the throne.
Now, as we know, Ferdinand and Miranda had fallen for one another the moment they met, and you might have thought Prospero would have left it there. After all, things couldn’t have been better. Next would come the first kiss, then a melting of eyes, and that would be that. The lovers would be as good as wed.
But Prospero had other plans. He had decided to make life difficult for the young lovers, for he wanted to make sure they really did love each other. So, much to Miranda’s horror, Prospero – quite out of the blue – accused Ferdinand of being a spy, who had come to the island to take it over for himself. He shouted at the horrified young man, and told him he would chain his legs together and keep him prisoner.
You should have seen Miranda’s lovely face! She was astonished as she watched her father roar at her beloved Ferdinand. She couldn’t understand why he wasn’t as happy as she was.
Then Ferdinand, heroic to the last, raised his sword. But as soon as he did, Prospero pointed his magic staff at him; and the young man knew better than to argue with that. Off he was marched by Prospero, and set to work shifting logs. Unbelievable, isn’t it! But then, as you’re beginning to realise, my master works in mysterious ways.
I wanted to see what happened next, but I couldn’t wait around. Prospero’s exile could only end when he got his dukedom back from Antonio and, for that to happen, there was going to have to be a whole lot more magic. My freedom would have to wait a little longer. This time, though, I kept my impatience well hidden, for I didn’t want Prospero to remind me again that he was in charge. And his words:
Thou shalt be free
As mountain winds
made me do as I was told quite willingly.
Those winds of freedom blew happily through my veins as I busied myself with my next task. And, as I worked, I kept an eye on what was happening to those lovers. For I have ways and means of finding out what’s going on, you know. Nothing escapes Ariel’s watchful eye!
I gazed into a rock pool here, listened into a conch shell there and, in that way, I saw and heard Miranda’s sighs as her beloved Ferdinand heaved those logs.
I heard her beg him to let her help, and heard him refuse. I laughed as he asked her name and then rolled ‘Miranda’ round and round on his tongue as if it were sugar.
I smiled as he told her he was a prince and then, remembering that his father was surely drowned, added sadly that he was probably a king. And that smile of mine grew broader as I heard Miranda ask that strange, human question, ‘Do you love me?’ for I knew, of course, Ferdinand’s answer would be ‘Yes’.
Then, finally, when that bold daughter of Prospero asked Ferdinand to marry her, I fairly whooped with joy! My love-spell was accomplished, and I could feel the mountain wind tugging me away from the sea, away from Prospero’s island, towards freedom.
Once more, though, I was disappointed. It still wasn’t time for me to be given my precious freedom. That tugging was Prospero, summoning me again. Oh, how insistently did my master call me on that magical afternoon! There were times when I felt I was in two places at one time, or that after my tempest, time and tide themselves stopped.
When I arrived at his cave, Prospero gave me orders to bring a host of magical spirits to him, for he wanted to put on a special play for Ferdinand and Miranda. This play was to be a ‘masque’ and, because kings and queens pay a great deal of money to have masques performed in their palaces, I knew it was going to be quite something. And I knew the magical spirits would be delighted, too, for nothing pleased them more than singing and dancing and wearing wonderful costumes.
I couldn’t wait to get started so, faster than a wave breaks, I rounded up as many spirits as I could find. And then what a masque we showed those young lovers!
If Ferdinand and Miranda had imagined, when they first set eyes on one another, that they were seeing gods, then what Prospero and I conjured up showed them the real thing. It was magnificence itself – a truly spectacular affair. And its purpose wasn’t just to entertain them. It was also a blessing on their lives together.
First came Iris, the goddess of the rainbow, and she was a sight to behold with her glittering, arched bow of colours and her saffron wings. She summoned Ceres, the goddess of the harvest, and then none other than Juno, the great goddess of light. Together, the three goddesses blessed Ferdinand and Miranda and wished them joy and prosperity and children – all the gifts Nature could bring them.
Ferdinand was enraptured! But we hadn’t finished – for remember, I had an entire cast of spirits with me. Soon nymphs, and reapers, and (of course!) music surrounded Ferdinand and his bride-to-be. Sound and song filled the air; and joy, happiness, and goodness filled every heart. In those golden moments, this island really seemed like Paradise.
Until Prospero spoke.
Now, as you can imagine, in twelve years I have seen my master in many a rage; but never have I seen him so angry, and neither had Miranda. Trembling with fury, he roared at my poor spirits. He told them to stop their dancing, and he ordered them to leave immediately. They did, though they didn’t know why they had to go and were not at all pleased. Everyone was mystified and disappointed, for there seemed no reason to stop the masque. And there was no outward reason. The reason was inside Prospero. His mind was suddenly on darker things.
Prospero, you see, had another slave, and that was Sycorax’s son, Caliban. And Caliban, as you’d expect of someone with a witch for a mother and the Devil for a father, was not at all trustworthy! Nothing happened on this island without Prospero getting to know about it, and on that day he’d realised Caliban was up to no good. The magnificence of the masque had enchanted him, but all the while he’d known that Caliban had met two other survivors of our tempest – a couple of clowns by the names of Stephano and Trinculo – and between them they had hatched a terrible plot. A murder plot, in fact!
Prospero knew he couldn’t put it off any longer – he had to act, for his life was in danger. Reality had to be faced, so the masque had to stop and its actors and props and scenery had to be sent away. The masque had seemed like Paradise but, sadly, Paradise isn’t real.
Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air
was what Prospero said and, as he turned away from the happy, young lovers and went off to think his sad, dark thoughts, he added:
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded in a sleep.
I’m going to let you into a secret now. I wasn’t going to tell you because, as I’ve said more than once, we airy spirits don’t weep, or feel pity, or love. Airy spirits fly away from all those human emotions, don’t we? Or do we?
My secret is that, before the masque began, I asked Prospero if he loved me. Yes! Amazing though that sounds, I did. Me – a spirit, whose emotions are all air! And do you know how he answered? He said, Dearly, my delicate Ariel.
Now, I ask you – why did I want to know that? I don’t ‘do’ love, do I?
I can only leave you to guess at the answer. Perhaps it was simply because ‘love’ was in the air. Perhaps it was because I knew Prospero was going to give me my liberty and that meant we would soon part for ever. Or perhaps it was because I knew Prospero was right in what he said. I am ‘such stuff as dreams are made on’.
And if I am, well – dreams are lost if there’s no one to dream them, aren’t they?