The tradition of dressing up in costumes began—at least as far back in Western history as is recorded—with the Celts. The Celts believed that as one year ended and the next year began, the worlds of the dead and the living overlapped, and spirits and demons would roam the Earth. So, to dress up in the disguise of a demon was a way to trick the demons—who, if they saw you dressed up, would think you were a demon, too.
In the Middle Ages, the Catholic Church converted this ancient tradition into "All Saints Day" and "All Hallows Eve," adding saints and angels (along with demons) to the list of disguises people might employ.
This practice evolved as well, and on Hallowmas, children and poor people would walk about towns and villages in disguises, knocking on doors and begging for food or money in exchange for a song, a prayer, a jest, or a dance. This was called "guising," from "disguise."
All of these elements and practices are the foundation for the evolution of the "masque," more formalized and theatrical events that combined music, dance, performers in disguises as mythological or allegorical characters, and sometimes thin plots, though usually they were more likely to be processionals with lush descriptive narrations.
Some masques were performed in public at fairs and carnivals. By the time we reach the seventeenth century, when William Shakespeare wrote The Tempest, the masques were performed at court. Elizabeth I and her successor, James I, were fond of court masques, and there was a constant stream of masques done at the Tudor and Stuart courts. One of the most prolific writers of masques was the author Ben Jonson, whose masques were often staged on sets created by the renowned architect Inigo Jones.
Masques were often accompanied by "anti-masques," which were comic dance sequences of low and bawdy humor usually performed before the masque. They were then "transformed" into the orderly spectacle of the masque itself—the transformation is a statement of ethics, the chaotic disorder of the anti-masque turning to stability, bliss and concord as the masque itself. The anti-masque was invented by Ben Jonson and figures in many of his plays and masques.
William Shakespeare uses the masque to great effect in The Tempest. Much of act 4 of the play is an actual masque—in this case, a supernatural event that Prospero, the ruler of his magic isle, creates to present to his daughter, Miranda, and her suitor, Ferdinand. He tells his spirit Ariel to summon the spirits for the event:
PROSPERO: Thou and thy meaner fellows your last serviceDid worthily perform; and I must use youIn such another trick. Go bring the rabble,O'er whom I give thee power, here to this place:Incite them to quick motion; for I mustBestow upon the eyes of this young coupleSome vanity of mine art: it is my promise,And they expect it from me.
Ariel returns and orders these "rabble" spirits to perform the masque, which is a rather stately promenade of various female mythological characters including Iris, Ceres, and Juno (respectively, the goddess of the rainbow, the goddess of the harvest, and the queen of the gods). The goddesses gossip for a while about who of the other gods may or may not be attending the event, then they bestow blessings upon Miranda and Ferdinand for their imminent wedding. Their language is regal, lush with images of nature, and as stately as one might find in any court masque performed for royalty:
CERES: Earth's increase, foison plenty,Barns and garners never empty,Vines and clustering bunches growing,Plants with goodly burthen bowing;Spring come to you at the farthestIn the very end of harvest!Scarcity and want shall shun you;Ceres' blessing so is on you.
As this is Shakespeare, he is up to his usual trick of taking a well-established form of theater and shaping it for his own dramatic devices. Now, after the formal masque, the character Iris is employed to call out more spirits to do a merry dance:
IRIS: You sunburnt sicklemen, of August weary,Come hither from the furrow and be merry:Make holiday; your rye-straw hats put onAnd these fresh nymphs encounter every oneIn country footing.
Enter certain Reapers, properly habited: they join with the Nymphs in a graceful dance; towards the end whereof PROSPERO starts suddenly, and speaks; after which, to a strange, hollow, and confused noise, they heavily vanish.
All seems to be going well in the masque when suddenly, something about the performance—perhaps the merry country dance of the Reapers and Nymphs—reminds Prospero that he has important unfinished business: he needs to deal with his miscreant servant Caliban, who is plotting to kill his master. Prospero becomes distraught and angry, as both Ferdinand and Miranda notice, and he—and Shakespeare—ends this masque with a powerful and influential piece of poetry:
PROSPERO: Our revels now are ended. These our actors,As I foretold you, were all spirits andAre melted into air, into thin air:And, like the baseless fabric of this vision,The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,The solemn temples, the great globe itself,Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolveAnd, like this insubstantial pageant faded,Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuffAs dreams are made on, and our little lifeIs rounded with a sleep.
Considering that this play was performed for the royal court, this is strong stuff. It is a reminder to everyone that the gorgeous revels of the masques themselves are insubstantial pageants, and these disguised spirits are only such stuff as dreams are made on.
While not a masque in and of itself, The Tempest does share some similarities with masque-style plays. Masque usually involved music and dance, which The Tempest does include. It also involves magic and can be read as an allegory.
Most masques are outright allegories, such as John Milton's Comus, an allegory where a virginal young woman is pitted against the lecherous titular wizard, and the two battle over the worth of the virtue of chastity. There is little action in Comus, and its characters are rather simple: the girl is good and pure, and Comus is charming but wicked. She is captured by Comus, then verbally duels with him, then is rescued from her bondage.
The Tempest is less overt in its allegories—since its plot is far more developed and its characters largely more three-dimensional—but the allegorical element remains, regardless. The play is largely an examination of the line between reality and fantasy, with Prospero's island being his personal playing ground if you will. He is like an author manipulating other characters and events for his own ends, and by the conclusion, he relinquishes this power over the characters and his audiences, allowing them all to return to the real world.
The structure of The Tempest contains a masque-like segment that is a celebration of the marriage of Miranda, Propsero's daughter, with Ferdinand. Apart from this, however, the entire play is similar to a masque in the sense that it is a fantasy-like allegory with magical characters, music, and a celebratory atmosphere.
If it is like a masque in having an allegorical significance, we would need to identify what the play is actually an allegory of. As with all of Shakespeare, there are many interpretations. Unlike his more realistic comedies, The Tempest takes place on a remote island analogous (as has often been pointed out) to the New World then being colonized by Europeans. Usually a masque would be expected to honor the reigning monarch, though it doesn't appear that critics have generally identified Prospero as representing James I. You might, however, want to research what qualities, if any, are similar between Prospero and the king. It appears typical of Shakespeare to want to stand well with the rich and powerful, as earlier, during Elizabeth's reign, his historical plays had taken the straightforward propaganda line of the Tudor house.
Usually the interpretation by commentators of The Tempest is of something much deeper than that of pleasing the court—that because the play itself shows a magical, unreal world, then the ultimate theme concerns the difference, if any, between illusion and reality, which has been dealt with so often in literature. If Prospero's island is a kind of mirage, then his words near the close of the play seem to indicate the same is true of the world at large:
And like the baseless fabric of this vision,
The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples—the great globe itself—
Yea, all which it inherit shall dissolve....
.....We are such stuff
As dreams are made on, and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
In literature, the term “masque” refers to a form of festive courtly entertainment which flourished in 16th and early 17th century Europe. It was the most important kind of entertainment in the English court during Shakespeare’s time. It is characterized by visual spectacle, costumes, music, song, symbolic action, dialogue, and poetry. The productions were extremely elaborate and very expensive. They focused on spectacular, surprise effects to create a deferential allegory that was flattering to the monarchy.
The Tempest, performed at court during the same time as famous masque plays, is masque-like in many ways. First and most obviously, is the visual spectacle of the setting. The island, the central setting of the play, is a fantastical place full of magic spirits. It has potential for brilliant and startling imagery on stage, which would be impressive to the audience. The effect of the tempest itself, as well as the songs and dancing within the play, also add to the extravagant effect of the masque.
At a more fundamental level, The Tempest can also be interpreted as a celebration of the monarch figures. This is created through the contrast of the courtly plot involving Alonso, Antonio, Sebastian, and Gonzalo, with the crude and low farce of the uncivilized monster Caliban, the drunk butler Stephano, and the jester Trinculo. In the masque, mere visual contact with the royalty ennobles and civilizes the “savage” characters.
The implications of this masque-centered interpretation are that the analysis of the play then becomes more like it was originally perceived, rather than the modern post-colonial interpretations of The Tempest. Because the masque focuses on praise of the authoritarian figures, this reading of the play makes the “low” characters like Caliban less sympathetic than they would be to many modern critics.
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