Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

The Renaissance Political Scene on Stage

Nearly 400 years ago in the largest palace in the world, William Shakespeare first regaled us with a political tale full of devious protagonists and dastardly antagonists. Imagine Gandalf, but fearsome and vengeful: Our man is Prospero – the aggrieved and deposed duke of Milan. With his daughter he finds himself stranded on a rain-lashed shred of rock somewhere in the Mediterranean, with nothing but a ghoulish demon-child and a flighty fairy for company. Prospero’s jealous brother Antonio deposed the rightful duke and banished him to the island, with the aid of King Alonso of Naples.

“The Tempest” was staged in the Palace of Whitehall – at the time, the largest palace in the world, bigger than Versailles or the Vatican. Its hodgepodge largess matched one of its patrons, King Henry VIII, who died there in 1547. Whitehall was enormous and bizarre; at its center was the banqueting hall built by Inigo Jones in the high Italian Renaissance style most famously seen in Venice.

The melodramatic life of the king is well documented. In Britain we all had to learn the old refrain: divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived (a mnemonic to remember the fates of his six wives). The fiction of the day was as glamorously absurd as the palace itself – a delight for anyone with an interest in that era’s raucous politics.

I first came across “The Tempest” in circumstances similar to Prospero’s, although the island was different; it was Britain, but it too is a rain-lashed shred of rock. My teacher, Michael Cook, was at the helm of the class, sitting among desks and chairs explaining the ins and outs of Italian political life. It seems the alliance between Alonso and Antonio was not unusual, and that the name “Caliban” for the demon-child of Sycorax was no accidental pun.

Vengeful and seeing opportunity, Prospero uses magic to trap Antonio and Alonso on his island by dashing their ship against its forbidding rocks. Gonzalo – Alonso’s adviser and a benefactor to Prospero at the time of the deposition – was aboard, too, as was Alonso’s son, young Prince Ferdinand. And in yet another fine example of his sorcerous skill, Prospero casts a spell upon the young prince to make him fall in love with Prospero’s daughter Miranda.

Henry VIII first toured Whitehall in 1530, arm in arm with Lady Anne Boleyn, who was instrumental in the deposition of Cardinal Wolsey. Just as Antonio’s allegiances changed as each new opportunity presented itself, the king, the lady and the cardinal allied themselves at different times with different members of this trio. It was first king and cardinal, then king and the lady against the cardinal, and finally the king by himself (the other two died grisly deaths).

Wolsey was a confidante of the king until the latter divorced Catherine of Aragon and agitated the former’s Catholic beliefs. The issue of the separation made its way to Charles V of the Spanish Hapsburgs, nephew of Catherine and one of the most powerful leaders in the world. Pope Clement VII was slow to respond, thus throwing doubt on Wolsey’s loyalty. Boleyn convinced Henry that Wolsey was purposely stalling the completion of the annulment, even though Charles V and Pope Clement’s involvement in the decision was clearly that which slowed down proceedings. Finally, Wolsey fell out of favor, and soon after the king would break from the church and proclaim himself head of Anglicanism – a figment of his creativity and a dramatic new creation.

But in the end, the palace of Whitehall burnt down, the king ended his days, ugly and alone: Wolsey died in Leicester accused of treason, and Boleyn was beheaded at the Tower of London. In contrast, the play ends with more victory than tragedy: Forgiven by Prospero, King Alonso of Naples and Prospero’s brother Antonio, thief of the dukedom of Milan, finish the play surrendering to Prospero. And to top off the deft political mastery, Prospero achieves security by joining Naples and Milan in the match between Ferdinand and Miranda.

The similarity is stark: betrayal and deception with royalty running amok, fleeting allegiances between fickle rulers (both real and fictitious) converge at the overwrought palace. Any intended connection between the politics of the age and the plot of the play remain unknown. I don’t suggest that Shakespeare was influenced by the life of King Henry VIII, but in any event, the play is an interesting and realistic depiction of the tumultuous lives of European royalty at the time of the Renaissance.

Udayan Tripathi is a sophomore in the School of Foreign Service. He can be reached at tripathithehoya.com. History Never Repeats Itself appears every other Monday at www.thehoya.com.

*To send a letter to the editor on a recent campus issue or Hoya story or a viewpoint on any topic, contact [opinionthehoya.com](opinionthehoya.com). Letters should not exceed 300 words, and viewpoints should be between 600 to 800 words.*”

Donate to The Hoya

Your donation will support the student journalists of Georgetown University. Your contribution will allow us to purchase equipment and cover our annual website hosting costs.

More to Discover
Donate to The Hoya