'His art is of such power': Perspectives of Power in Euripides' Medea and Shakespeare's The Tempest

By Andrew Nicol, Student

An analysis of different contextual reading practices in The Tempest and Medea.

An essay hosted at LiteratureClassics.com

drama texts are created in particular contexts (historical, social and cultural), but rely on the reading of their audiences to make sense of them. Demonstrate and explore the validity of this proposition by referring to your own construction of meaning after having read Medea by Euripides and The Tempest by Shakespeare.

Euripides’ extraordinary achievement in the Greek tragedy Medea is to present the protagonist as a sympathetic figure despite the fact that she is a mother who kills her children. Through her horrific actions, Medea usurps the social order of all Greek society; undermining its structure and hierarchy, and showing no consideration for human life. A post-structuralist reading of Medea emphasises the plot and characterisation to develop an understanding of the play. For me, the play is a powerful symbol of the empowerment of an unlikely and oppressed member of society. The protagonist represents the social ‘other’ – foreigner and women – empowered to disrupt the social order. This particular reading is the outcome of highlighting aspects of the text which deal with the psychological and sociological dilemmas of the characters. Euripides’ contemporary audience, whose society was informed by entirely different ideologies, would be unlikely to have read the text in the same way. The range of dominant readings of literature changes and broadens over time as a result of the shifting beliefs and practices of societies.

Interpretations of Euripides’ Medea, since its construction in the Golden Age of classical Greece, have contended with the issue of the role of the gods and humanity in causing the social disorder of the play. Anaxagoras, an eminent pre-Socratic philosopher in Euripides’ time, purported that the human mind is always in control, but it does not always act ethically. This teaching came at the start of a revolution in human thinking, but at the time the people of Greece had not yet adopted these theories of human behaviour. Their culture still championed the significance of the gods – rather than the mind – in controlling the fate of their people. The contradictory nature of these theories necessarily meant that they would, at some point in the future, oppose each other. The actions that the city state of Athens took against Socrates for ‘corrupting the city’s youth’ with new ideas is testament to the dichotomy between the beliefs that man or god are in control of human lives. It is also a symbol of the ideological upheaval which would take place between then and now, and would lead to the contemporary belief that our own actions determine our future.

A structuralist reading of the play would place the blame for social chaos with the gods; in a representation of the human condition and the inexorable domination of fate over human lives. This reading is culturally specific: the Greek people’s hegemony of belief in the gods and uncertainty of fate cultivates this interpretation. The importance of the gods to the Greeks is articulated best by the early philosopher Xenophanes, who proposed that, if animals could create works of art, “horses would draw pictures of gods like horses, and oxen of gods like oxen”. An appreciation of the other classical attitudes which informed Greek society is essential in understanding why they would have seen Jason as a model Greek citizen, with a grave flaw. The hegemony of classical society was the restraint of human emotions and passions. Jason idealized this belief – he is calculating and unemotional, and does only what is best for himself. He conforms to society by marrying for social gain and using his position of power – as well as his money – to try dominate Medea. He is the epitome of Apollonian culture; he sees society as having a rigid structure, and prides himself on his conformity, decorum, respect for tradition and the moderation of his emotions. Medea is the other extreme. She is a foreigner, and places Jason’s commitment to a relationship with her above his societal orthodoxy. This explains her reaction to his decision to take Glauke as a wife: having had her own ends killed, she is insistent on killing them for others.

Classical literature places an emphasis on the generic attributes of groups of people. The enormous size of the venues used in Greek drama required that masks be used to allow the audience to immediately identify the social status of each character, and hence infer their behaviour. The chorus of Corinthian women represents the common traits of ordinary Greek citizens: balanced, self-controlled and reasonable, and is intentionally juxtaposed with Medea’s fiery emotions and bestial temper. An audience in Euripides’ time would have easily identified with the chorus. They would have seen Medea, by making public her personal emotional state, as a threat to the established order of Greek society. They would not, however, have attributed Medea’s behaviour to Jason’s actions – after all, he was only acting as many of them would in real life. Instead, they would have privileged the textual fragments which deal with the part of Medea’s persona that is “more than mortal”, and seen her irrational behaviour as a symbol of the control the gods have over society. This audience would have emphasised the significance of the Medea’s divine psyche winning control over the actions of the character. Medea’s “fate is fixed: | There’s no escape”, she is destined to perform the horrific act. At the peripetia of the play, her humanity dies as she exclaims, “I’m dead. How can I bear it?”

This dominant structuralist reading is further privileged in the text by chorus. Its exodus is the most powerful symbol of the way in which they unequivocally place the blame on the gods. It is the gods who “contrive a way” for the seemingly “impossible” events of the play:

“In heaven, Zeus holds the balance.
Expect the unexpected.
What mortals dream, the gods frustrate
For the impossible they contrive a way
So it was with what happened here, today.”

Similarly, their lamentation “Why do they do this, the gods?” and their anaepestic Ode, which emphasises the way in which we should adjust our lives to avoid the wrath of the gods by not leaving any “hostages to fortune”, both reinforce the significance of the heavens on human existence. There is no doubt, however, that Euripides’ play as much challenged the ideologies of his contemporary society as it reinforced them. There was enough textual evidence for his contemporary audience to read the play as supporting the beliefs of the time; but similarly there is evidence which challenges this idea. The remarkable fact is that the text obliges itself to a multiplicity of meanings.

Popular readings of Medea in modern times can be quite different to those of Ancient Greece. In the Western World, monotheism and, in particular, Christianity, has replaced the deities worshipped by the Greeks. Our world is currently going through a Period of skepticism directed at the whole concept of a supreme being. This skepticism is mainly as a result of an intellectual reaction to anything which cannot be quantified by modern science and mathematics, and has drastically altered our perception of the world. Modern psychology elevates the individual and the inner self above the social human being; an enormous change from Classical times when the state was considered more important than the individual. Perhaps most significantly, we are now actively engaging in an examination of the inner self, and celebrating – not suppressing – our passion and free will. James Joyce’s Ulyssees is the text which is most representative of this change. People of the 21st century are aware, now more than ever, that we create the world in the act of perceiving it; our lives are no longer subject to the frustrations of the gods.

My alternative reading of Medea reflects these shifts in ideology. It is as a result of privileging parts of the text which deal with the individual psychologies of the characters, culminating in the discovery that the protagonist’s female wiles and the antagonist’s human weakness are the sources of social disorder in the play. This reading also allows for an evaluation of the constructs of class, gender and cultural identity.

Jason’s human weakness is established from the onset of the play. His hubris, described clearly by the chorus with “over-reach yourself, you’ll suffer”; is not something which is culturally specific – my society, with its ambition based almost solely on material wealth – is familiar with the idea of sacrificing loved ones for the sake of social elevation. Jason makes a critical sacrifice on this path; he breaks his oath to the gods by betraying Medea.

“Now water flows uphill.
Injustice masks itself; betrayal rules.
A man swears by the gods
And by the gods he breaks his word”

For a modern audience, Jason’s betrayal is especially significant. Euripides manages to portray Medea in such a way that her actions seem almost reasonable given the subjugation of women to the patriarchy. This is accomplished by naturalising Medea’s subservient behaviour. She manipulates the characters of the play by exploiting this role to achieve what she wants. King Kreon’s remark “frankly, you frighten me” establishes the extent to which she has usurped the typical gender and power order of Greek society. Nevertheless, she manages to manipulate both Kreon and Jason further by playing the role of a naïve, coy woman who understands her place in society. She grovels to Kreon, “You’ll be my king and I your slave”, and to Jason she says:

“We women! We are what we are –
Our natures, how can we help them?”

Jason is influenced by this behaviour because it appeals to his longing for power. Together with his dispassionate objectivity, it makes him and Medea opposing poles of human behaviour. A contemporary audience would be likely to identify and sympathise with Medea. One of the most significant techniques which draws attention to the character is the deus ex machina. Medea’s appearance on the machine is a startling break with tradition, and a powerful symbol of the way she has won dominance over Jason and his society.

Medea is a social other in more ways than one. She is also a foreigner, and her victory over the Greeks would have shocked the audience. Euripides, however, plays down the significance of her cultural identity. In the first few episodes of the play, the chorus becomes increasingly supportive of Medea, and on several occasions they note their agreement with her criticism of the patriarchal society. With statements like “Men must recognize our power. It’s now: | They’ve put us down for long enough”, the chorus implies that Medea’s beliefs are justified responses to the Ancient Greek milieu. In doing so, the play challenges its society’s xenophobia. Similarly, Medea confronts another of its society’s constructs: class. Medea is able to disempower Kreon, who typifies an upper class Greek male. Aigeus is characterised as an aging fool. His inability to bear sons would have been a source of some entertainment for Euripides’ audience. From a contemporary perspective, what were social norms of Greek society are unacceptable practices in ours. It can be read that constructs of gender, class and cultural identity are all challenged in Medea; but regardless of whether the text had any revolutionary impact on its contemporary audience, it indicates how drama necessarily reflects the attitudes of its time.

The Golden Age of Classical Greece came to an end the year after Medea was written, but the cultural, scientific and sociological developments made by the Greeks were not forgotten. The Roman Empire was built on the foundations of Ancient Greek society, and came to dominate the Western world. Classical drama, developed by the Greeks from Dionysian rites dealing with the themes of fertility, life and death, came to an end with the decline of Rome. Medieval drama was a new form of drama which developed in the ninth century, again with important religious significance – the plays all related to the rituals of the Christian Church. These morality plays flourished for centuries, and lived on into the English Renaissance. At the same time, however, the Renaissance movement advocated a return to the Classical drama of the Greeks and Romans. In the Elizabethan age, Europeans saw their society and art as having the potential, as Gonzalo of Shakespeare’s tragicomedy The Tempest suggests, “t’excell the Golden Age”.

The Tempset was the most technically complicated and ambitious play of its era, but its subject matter would not have surprised its contemporary audience. Its focus on the supernatural, a topic of enormous interest in seventeenth century Europe, its discussion of social issues such as colonialism, and the parallels between its plot and European political events all make it particularly reflective of its time. Yet, despite its unnatural setting and magical characters, readings of the most important issues it explores are as relevant to a 21st century audience as they were to Elizabethan society. One of the most significant of these universal issues is power. Shakespeare’s contemporary audience may have proposed that The Tempest reflects the realities of dynastic politics in 17th century Europe. It suggests that even when man is set apart from his society, he carries political ambition and ideological and hierarchical prejudice with him. Less familiar with the specific political circumstances of the time, and influenced by the focus of my society on the power of individuals, I read the text in a different way. This post-structuralist reading is that The Tempest represents the freedom and boundaries of human existence in a complicated political world.

The characters of The Tempest are archetypes, representative of groups of people in Elizabethan society. By examining the interactions between the characters, we can develop an understanding of how the play constructs representations of contemporary issues. In contrast to the relative egalitarianism of Australian society, the characters of The Tempest are stratified into specific classes. These classes are revealed in the first scene – as social disorder descends upon the ship, the nobles are alarmed to find that in the face of disaster their subordinates don’t care for their superior positions. Gonzalo’s plea to Boatswain to “remember whom thou hast aboard” is scoffed at by the sailor: “None that I love more than myself… Out of our way, I say.” Similarly, the Shakespearean arch-villains Antonio and Sebastian are presented as typical upper class nobles whose life is dominated by political ambition. Metaphysical wit is used to highlight their evil brilliance. Antonio ironically remarks “Noble Sebastian” when Sebastian is contemplating the murder of his king!

Miranda is the most important character of The Tempest to consider when discussing the construction of gender. She is naïve, predictable and blatantly oblivious to the reality of life on the island. We cannot take Miranda to be a representation of women in General in Elizabethan times, however; because many of her characteristics were defined during the sheltered life she had led under her father’s wing. It is difficult for any audience to identify with Miranda – her personality makes her seem distant, and almost as “baseless” as the goddesses of the masque. In constructing gender readings of The Tempest, the lack of a palpable central female figure leaves a textual gap that is difficult to fill. We can consider Prospero’s wife, who is referred to by Prospero as “a piece of virtue”, suggesting that she was an exception to a class that was generally not virtuous. The witch Sycorax, whose story of exile for “mischiefs manifold” has similarities to Medea’s plight, is an equally perplexing character. It is difficult to construct decisive gender readings of The Tempest; there is textual evidence, however, to suggest that the subordinate position of women in Elizabethan England is reflected in the play.

The plot of The Tempest has its counterpart in actual political events of Shakespeare’s time. The marriage of Alonso’s daughter Caribel to the King of Tunis is similar to Princess Elizabeth’s marriage to Frederick, a foreign prince. Both of these marriages are politically motivated – the happiness of the couple, which is the most important consideration in our day, was not a matter of any importance. The marriage of Miranda and Ferdinand is a political solution to reconcile Milan and Naples, and is representative of widespread political expansionism, and the political ambitions of Prospero and Alonso. The subplots of the play both relate to another political issue: the usurpation of rightful rulers. Prospero takes control of the island from Caliban; Caliban, Trinculo and Stephano plot to overthrow him; and Antonio and Sebastian plot the murder of their King, Alonso. The extraordinary Repetition of this event is symbolic of both the importance of political conflict in Shakespeare’s time, and the intrinsically power-hungry nature of mankind. None of the plots is developed extensively, but each is indicative of this important principle. Similarly, the number and brevity of these subplots has the effect of giving The Tempest its characteristic density.

Caliban maintains that the “tyrant” Prospero “by his cunning hath cheated me of the island”. Prospero, however, refuses to acknowledge that a beast like Caliban could rule the island, in an attitude which resembles belief in the divine right of kings at the time. He believes the “human care” and tutoring he gave Caliban could liberate him from his “uncivilised” self; but human frailty won and Caliban succumbed to temptation and tried to rape Miranda. Parallels between this plot and the treatment of native people in the age of colonialism are inevitable. Europeans were intrigued with the possibilities of creating an ideal state when given the chance to colonise places not yet tainted by their social order. Gonzalo’s dream of the perfect commonwealth is one of many utopian visions presented in the play, which are in sharp contrast with the reality of servitude and bondage of native populations. We are as aware of the harm of colonialist enterprise as people were in Shakespeare’s time, and readings of the text as an exploration of colonialism have been popular for decades. The relationship between Prospero and Caliban is the pillar of these readings. Prospero is seen as the imperial oppressor, “a prince of power”, and Caliban as the oppressed native who is disinherited, exploited and subjugated. The juxtaposition of this grotesque character, a “mis-shapen knave”, with the sensitivity and dignity of his extraordinary personality is used to highlight the complicated nature of human existence. Caliban is ironically granted one of a few soliloquies of the play, as well as some of the most beautiful and poetic lines:

“the isle is full of noises,
Sounds, and sweet airs, that delight and hurt not…
“and then, in dreaming,
The clouds methought would open, and show riches
Ready to drop upon me, that when I waked
I cried to dream again”

Caliban becomes a sympathetic figure, especially as we realise the hopelessness of his plot to oust Prospero, and the desparation of his situation – he proclaims “be my god” to the drunken fool Trinculo. By establishing Caliban as a sympathetic character, Shakespeare allows us to evaluate Prospero’s use of power. Prospero’s books are the most important symbol of his power; he claims they are “volumes that | I prize above my dukedom”. There are important contextual parallels between Prospero’s occult study and the Holy Roman Emperor Rudolf II, who was also said to be “neglecting worldly ends” because he was “rapt in secret studies”, and who had his power stripped from him by the Hapsburg archdukes. Shakespeare’s audience would have made these specific contextual connections, while a contemporary audience would be more inclined to see Prospero’s books as an allegorical symbol for the use of power. Caliban identifies the importance of the books, reminding Trinculo and Stephano “First to possess his books, | for without them he’s but a sot as I am”. Endowed with his books and magic items, and with the luck of “a most auspicious star”, the magus Prospero has the power to manipulate the characters on the island. His aim is to shake the nobles – stop them from upholding their society’s status quo, and change them forever. He tempts them to regicide, confuses them and their social order, and makes them feel remorse. In doing so, he hopes to force them to question their own behaviour. This is Prospero’s art – his ability to manipulate man, and to lead him from corruption to reform. Caliban is an important commentator on this concept, making the connection between Prospero’s art and his enormous power:

“I must obey: his art is of such power,
It would control my dam’s god, Setebos,
And make a vassal of him”

Pun on the word art is used throughout the play in order to draw the audience’s attention to the nature of art and reality. Prospero proclaims to Miranda “thou | Art ignorant of what thou art”. This metaphysical statement draws the audience’s attention to the inexplicable nature of human existence; and is further developed by Prospero’s famous contemplation “we are the stuff that dreams are made on; | And our little life is rounded with a sleep”. Prospero himself identifies the connection between his magic and his platonic art, which champions mind above matter, when he personifies his cloak, remarking “lie there, my art”. The premature ending of the masque, the epitome of art and culture, is seen as a Metaphor for life. Prospero calls it an “insubstantial pageant”. Art, like human life, is brilliant while it lasts; but it is over quickly and its memory soon fades.

Prospero’s plea in the epilogue to be “set free” from his own magic by the audience concludes an extraordinary exploration of the relationship between art and reality. Prospero has used his art to affect the characters of the play, just as the words of the play may affect the audience. He has used “art to enchant” – his vanishing acts, the masque and the magical music and song are all works of art which have nonetheless had an effect on reality. Prospero’s abjuration of his magic is a representation of the limits of human power and existence. Just as Prospero’s plans were falling into place, and he confirms “at this hour | Lie at my mercy all mine enemies”, dialogue with Ariel changes his plans completely.

“ARIEL: Your charm so strongly works ‘em
That if you now beheld them your affections
Would become tender.
PROSPERO: Dost thou think so, spirit?
ARIEL: Mine would, sir, were I human
PROSPERO: And mine shall.”

He decides that “the nobler action is in virtue than in vengeance” and abjures his magic. Ironically, the supernatural servant who cannot feel affection convinces his master to be compassionate and understanding. The dénouement of the play sees all the characters identify their limitations and weaknesses - even Caliban has been chastised - remarking, if somewhat unconvincingly, “I’ll be wise hereafter”. Prospero admits that, without his magical books and supernatural aide, his power is gone.

“Now my charms are all o’erthrown,
And what strength I have’s mine own,
Which is most faint”

The promise of peace is as important a part of a tempest as turbulent rain and wind. The ending of Shakespeare’s play brings this peace to the audience. As we are eased back into reality, we may not be entirely convinced of the virtue of all the characters, but we are certain that each has the capacity for reconciliation, and each is defined by the freedoms of personal choice and individualism; and the boundaries of reality.

In both The Tempest and Medea, the question of responsibility for social disorder is at the centre of an analysis from any reading perspective. In The Tempest, it is an astonishing combination of fate and human intervention from Prospero, who assumes god-like control over the characters but remains nothing more than a man. In Medea, either the gods, human weakness, or an empowered woman and foreigner can be blamed. From a modern perspective, it is entirely unconvincing to attribute the events of either play to fate. The concept of free will is championed in both secular and religious facets of our society, and has become a dominant ideology of our time. Our readings of Medea do not consider the mythology of ancient times as the Greek people’s readings might have; and our perceptions of The Tempest are couched in own understanding of the world – dynastic politics of a time centuries ago is insignificant. Nevertheless, if we were to try strip away the superficialities of our own existence, and become for one moment an omnipotent reader: we would make the discovery that all drama explores the complexity of human existence, in a world of freedoms and boundaries that define our lives.