In Defense of Miranda

I’ve read The Tempest before and it’s actually one of my favorite Shakespeare plays. The Tempest and A Midsummer Night’s Dream are the only plays by Shakespeare I really enjoy, in fact. I don’t know if it’s because of the magical element or if that is just a coincidence, but it’s probably something to think about. Prospero is kind of a jerk and is definitely full of himself, but for a powerful magic user, he sure lets his spirit, Ariel, do most of the work. Honestly, I find him a little bit boring, and Miranda is a much more interesting character (I’ll admit, I’m usually drawn to the women in Shakespeare’s plays, simply because their characters are so far in the background most of the time that I think it’s interesting to figure out what they are thinking when their male companions act like idiots).

It’s strange that not many people seem to want to analyze Miranda. They focus on Prospero, Ferdinand, and even Caliban, but few critics seem to want to look at Miranda at all. I guess it’s because she seems to fit the role Prospero intends for her. She is a dutiful, innocent daughter who falls in love with the first man she sees who isn’t her father or his slave, just as Prospero intends. I think it’s interesting, though, that Prospero uses his books to educate Miranda. She may be under her father’s control, like everyone else, but she has some level of education, as well. Prospero does not allow her to read his magic books, apparently, but she has to know what they are and what he does. It makes me wonder if, when everyone returns to civilization, Miranda will become like her father, absorbing herself in occult knowledge, and become just as powerful as he is.

 Despite Miranda’s position as being under her father’s control, and therefore under the control of male authority, she does speak against him several times, in Act I, scene ii, when she begs her father to stop the tempest, and again in the same scene, beginning around line 467, when Prospero freezes Ferdinand and she begs him to be nicer to him. Miranda may be young and naïve, but based on her ability to protest some of her father’s actions, I don’t believe it’s fair to say that she has no will of her own. Especially considering she lived her entire life on an island, with her only exposure to other people being her father and Caliban, her naivety and devotion to her father, and even the haste with which she falls in love and marries Ferdinand, is understandable.  I believe that with more life experience, and after meeting many new people, Miranda could possibly become a stronger, more independent woman. 

Even if she does not, that does not make her an inherently bad character or a reason for scorn. Miranda’s good traits are plentiful, despite living on a mostly uninhabited island and only having two men who are, basically, complete jerks for company. She is compassionate and loving, two words that would not describe either Prospero or Caliban, and while they are considered feminine traits, neither is bad in any way. Her calm demeanor and gentle innocence are also what calm Prospero’s rage, it seems. Prospero genuinely cares about his daughter and while he has his plan in mind before she protests what she believes is his murder of everyone on the ship, perhaps without her influence, his rage may have been so great that he would have simply killed everyone instead. 

Essentially, Miranda is a much more important character than she may seem to be at first, both in the role she plays as Prospero’s pawn and in her overall character. She may seem to be passive, but in a way, her passivity is exactly what her character, and the other characters, need, and is something that she shows hints of outgrowing even early in the play.

(Week 2 of 5)