Prospero vs. Sycorax

syc: trap'd in a tree

I have always been fascinated by magic.  In fifth grade, when others did presentations on their trips to Medieval Times, I tried homemade alchemy.  My mother unsuccessfully attempted to dissuade me from my efforts, but I was fairly certain I could turn flour into gold.  (I had just seen the “critically acclaimed” A Kid in King Arthur’s Court).  10 years of Fox “Behind the Illusion” or whatever they’re called television specials later, I realize that magic, for the most part is truly just sleight of hand, trickery while we’re not looking, and special effects.  In spite of my enlightenment, however, I still love a good old magic story.  Perhaps this is why I liked The Tempest so much.  While of course I was interested in the racial undertones, themes of the “other,” allusions to feminism and even class relations, I was most excited by Prospero’s ability to make his surroundings do whatever he wanted.  Simple excitement, aside, however, I think that further investigation of the theme of magic in The Tempest might be more intellectually potent than meets the eye.  If I remember correctly, alchemy, magic, and all that Merlin type goodness was for the most part, frowned upon back in the day.  Why, just across the pond, and about 100 years after Shakespeare wrote this play, supposed witches were getting burned at the stake for dancing around boiling pots of goo.  It only stands to reason that magic would be a controversial subject for the people of Shakespeare’s time too.  So, why is it that Prospero was not looked upon as a silly character, but rather, as one who evokes sympathy, and even some respect?

            Like all things in life, there seem to be two different sides to this magic story: the rational and the irrational.  In The Tempest, we see two different types of magic.   Prospero represents the rational, gentrified side of magic.  He is not a purveyor of voodoo, he does not dance around fires, and he does not wear a tall, pointy hat. Rather, Prospero is a gentrified nobleman—a man who cared more to study than to rule and who used his intelligence to divine authority over the nature around him.  Shakespeare contrasts Prospero’s rationality with the unkempt and uncivilized nature of Sycorax.  While we do not even meet her, we know that she is a witch of the wild who cruelly trapped Ariel in a tree and gave birth to a rapist son.  Of course this difference in rationality between the warlock and the witch might be quite obvious—for one, quite simply, Prospero is a man and Sycorax is a woman.  In earlier stories we read in this class, women, especially magical ones are quite dangerous. Remember Circe or the Sirens?   In fact, Sycorax’s cruel treatment of Ariel is entirely reminiscent of Circe’s illogical transformation of Odysseus’s men into pigs.  Like a lot of women in literature written by men, Sycorax is just another broad who can’t control her emotions.  Also, if my research is correct, some scholars claim that Sycorax, in addition to being a woman, she is banished from Algiers, implying that she is also Black--yet another reason why she might be “rationally inferior” to the educated, noble Prospero.

             So, what have I learned from examining the foil relationship between Prospero and Sycorax?  Well, just writing this has made me agree even more with scholars that say that Sycorax can be seen as a symbol for the silenced ethnic woman.  As one ethnic woman, myself, I feel that I must side with Sycorax.  She is just a victim of her circumstantial absence from the play, and severely misunderstood.  My newfound sympathy for Sycorax hasn’t made me feel any ill will towards Prospero, however.  I just see them as more or less the same.  Both banished, both alone and misunderstood, and both somehow controlling a person that each deems beneath him or her.  It seems that magic was only one among many things that they have in common.