The Sea and the Mirror by W. H. Auden
"The Sea and the Mirror" by W. H. Auden is a long poem that serves as a response to Shakespeare's play "The Tempest," beginning at the moment where the original drama concludes. The poem explores themes of art, identity, and the complex human experience through the voices of familiar characters like Prospero, Miranda, and Caliban. Auden's work reflects on the ironies of life and the limitations of reason, suggesting that while scientific explanations can clarify motives, only art can truly capture the intricacies of existence.
The poem opens with Prospero, who, preparing to leave his magical solitude, expresses a sense of disillusionment and self-reflection, ultimately forgiving those who have wronged him. In subsequent sections, other characters, including Ferdinand and Antonio, share their thoughts, revealing contrasting views on love, power, and individual identity. Notably, Caliban's soliloquy presents him as a more nuanced figure than in Shakespeare's portrayal, addressing themes of oppression and modernity while drawing parallels between his plight and contemporary issues of slavery and violence.
The poem concludes with a poignant exchange between Caliban and Ariel, where they find a semblance of understanding and acceptance, suggesting that, in the absence of the original characters, a new form of existence may begin. Through its rich language and layered meanings, "The Sea and the Mirror" invites readers to reflect on the enduring complexities of human relationships and the nature of freedom.
The Sea and the Mirror by W. H. Auden
Excerpted from an article in Magill’s Survey of World Literature, Revised Edition
First published: 1944
Type of work: Poem
The Work
Beginning where Shakespeare’s play ends, The Sea and the Mirror exploits the ironic vein implicit in the drama. In the Shakespearean work, the magician Prospero is about to leave his exile on an island in the New World. The old man and his daughter, Miranda, had been cast adrift by his brother, Antonio, and left to die. The castaways reach an island inhabited by Ariel, a fairylike spirit, and Caliban, who is half human, half brute. Years later, King Alonso of Naples and his followers, including Antonio, are shipwrecked by Prospero’s magic. His son, Ferdinand, falls in love with Miranda, Caliban plots with other followers to assassinate Prospero, and various other subplots arise. Yet Prospero is reconciled to his brother in the end; Ferdinand and Miranda are married; Ariel, who has been held captive, is freed; and Caliban is left “ruler” of the island.
It is at this point that Auden’s long poem commences. The work begins with the play’s stage manager addressing unnamed “critics.” The manager points out that, although there are reasonable, scientific explanations for many human motives, only art can truly mirror the mystery of life. He suggests in the last stanza of the preface that Shakespeare was a supreme master of this truth.
In the poem’s second section, Prospero bids good-bye to his spirit-servant, Ariel. His learning and the arts of magic now seem futile to him as he prepares to leave his solitude. He knows that he will soon return to “earth”; death is near. The aged magician reveals himself as something of a cynic, but he is critical of no one more than himself. He even forgives the treachery of Antonio. He realizes that his own treatment of Caliban and Ariel, holding them as spiritual slaves, is unforgivable. Still, his mood is thoughtful and even mellow. Although he is happy that he is too old to feel the extremes of romantic love, he can view the love between Miranda and Ferdinand with equanimity.
In the second section, several of the “supporting cast” from the play speak soliloquies, beginning with Antonio. As the ship carrying them moves out to sea, he notes how contented everyone is—the result, he claims, of Prospero’s spell. Yet he remains embittered and resists his brother’s enchantment. Ferdinand’s speech is to Miranda, his bride. He emphasizes his joy and their oneness. In the final italicized stanza—a device that will be repeated at the end of all the speeches to come—Ferdinand asserts his individuality to Prospero while contrasting his own identity with Antonio’s. Stephano, the drama’s drunken butler, declares his allegiance to his “belly,” to things of the flesh. He concludes that his “nature” is “inert,” and, like Ferdinand, he cannot know Antonio’s kind of solitude. Gonzalo, the king’s honest counselor, analyzes his own failure to understand the passions of the other characters. In his final stanza, he acknowledges that at least the power of the word, his “language,” is “his own,” even though he cannot understand the subtleties of Antonio’s interior dialogue. King Alonso addresses his son, Ferdinand. He explains the pitfalls and complexities of rule. His individuality is in his worldly “empire.” Two sailors, the Master and the Boatswain, then describe their lives at sea, their homesickness and their simultaneous need to explore. Sebastian and Trinculo, two relatively minor characters, deliver similar speeches. The last short monologue is Miranda’s. Prospero’s daughter rejoices in her love for Ferdinand and her departure from her father’s enchanted island.
Part 3, the poem’s longest section, is an address by Caliban to the drama’s audience. In Shakespeare’s play, Caliban is virtually subhuman; in the world of this drama, he is clearly fitted to be a slave. Yet like many slaves, he revolts and tries to kill his master. Thus, the Shakespearan Caliban is crude, murderous, beastlike. In contrast, Auden’s Caliban, as he reveals himself in this soliloquy, is erudite, subtle, even perhaps overly intellectual. He is also inexplicably modern; throughout his monologue are references to the twentieth century, such as fighter pilots or contemporary home furnishings. In fact, Caliban recalls Shakespeare’s play as at once a distant part of his own life and a quaint, old-fashioned relic. Nevertheless, he draws the audience’s attention to the parallels between his former situation and the modern world’s grim conflicts; “whipping,” slavery, and torture of the kind that he received at the hands of Prospero have not vanished. Instead, these things have become institutionalized and government sanctioned. Caliban’s final message is grim: “There is nothing to say. There never has been.”
The poem’s final section, a postscript, is spoken by Ariel to Caliban. Now that Prospero, Miranda, and the other alien intruders have left their island, these two strange beings can reveal their true feelings. Ariel announces her love for Caliban and accepts him as he is; she loves him for his flaws, those same flaws that Prospero used as an excuse to enslave him. Now that the play’s busy, complex characters are gone, presumably to continue with their mixed motives and subplots, Ariel and Caliban can return to a kind of motiveless paradise until their spirits are mixed in “one evaporating sigh.”
Bibliography
Blair, J. G. The Poetic Art of W. H. Auden. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1965.
Emig, Rainer. W. H. Auden: Towards a Postmodern Poetics. New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1999.
Firchow, Peter Edgerly. W. H. Auden: Contexts for Poetry. Newark: University of Delaware Press, 2002.
Jarrell, Randall. Randall Jarrell on W. H. Auden. Edited by Stephen Burt with Hannah Brooks-Motl. New York: Columbia University Press, 2005.
Mendelson, Edward. Later Auden. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1999.
Replogle, J. M. Auden’s Poetry. Seattle: University of Washington Press, 1971.
Untermeyer, Louis. Lives of the Poets. New York: Simon & Schuster, 1959.
Wetzsteon, Rachel. Influential Ghosts: A Study of Auden’s Sources. New York: Routledge, 2007.
Wright, G. T. W. W. H. Auden. New York: Twayne, 1969.