CASE FILE 1

The choice of play for our first investigation is, in fact, the final play or should we say the farewell play in the Shakespearean canon which, to my mind, is the most mysterious of them all. Completed in 1611, five years before William Shakespeare’s death, The Tempest is traditionally classified as a comedy — not necessarily in the modern sense of something humorous, but rather as a play that ends happily, in contrast to a tragedy. While the play does have other comedy elements such as forgiveness and reconciliation, these are blended with darker themes of betrayal, exile, revenge, and loss. Furthermore, I would beg to differ with the traditional opinion that The Tempest has a happy ending

But let’s begin our investigation into this very mysterious play with the traditional thinking on the subject, before venturing towards an alternative interpretation, grounded, as always, in the evidence.

It’s generally thought that the play was inspired by a real-life disaster: the shipwreck of the Sea Venture in 1609. The ship was part of a fleet sailing to Virginia when it was hit by a fierce storm and wrecked on the island of Bermuda. News of the incident spread quickly, and captured the imagination of the time. When that dramatic event is combined with elements from the Italian novelle tradition—stories rich in magicians, lost daughters, and political exile—it yields what most scholars regard as the principal elements of the play.

But let’s begin with a brief summary of The Tempest. The play tells the story of Prospero, the rightful Duke of Milan, who uses magic to create a shipwreck that brings his enemies - his brother Antonio and King Alonso of Naples - to the island where he lives in exile with his daughter, Miranda. On the island, Prospero is served by the spirit Ariel and the monster-like Caliban.

After the shipwreck the castaways start to appear, one of whom is the king’s son Ferdinand. He meets and falls in love with Miranda, but Prospero puts them to the test before approving their marriage. Meanwhile, other survivors, Trinculo and Stephano, plot with Caliban to overthrow Prospero. Through magical illusions, Prospero makes the nobles believe they are being punished for their past crimes against him.

In the end, Prospero chooses forgiveness over revenge. He reunites King Alonso with Ferdinand, regains his dukedom, blesses Miranda’s marriage, renounces his magic, and prepares to return home, leaving the island, Ariel and Caliban behind.

Let’s now turn our attention to the mystery setting of the plot, based on textual research. The play takes place on a Mediterranean island — and while there are plenty to choose from, in my opinion one in particular stands out: the Italian island of Ischia, just off the coast of Naples. This small island has a rich and fascinating literary history. Virgil called it Inarime, Homer named it A’rima, and the Romans knew it as Aenaria — “the place of Aeneas,” after the legendary hero was said to have landed there.

Fast forward to the late medieval period and we find Ischia as part of the Kingdom of Naples, which meant it was under Spanish Aragonese rule from 1442 to 1501. Then, in 1503 it came under Spanish Habsburg control, and was governed by a Spanish viceroy until 1707.

So that’s the history, but what are the three particularly intriguing facts about Ischia which make it an excellent candidate for the island setting of The Tempest?

Firstly, the island was famous for a legend about the Grotta del Mago, or the Sorcerer’s Cave, which still bears the same name today. The story goes that during fierce storms at sea, fishermen would take shelter in the cave—and sometimes they’d see an old man with a long white beard and flowing hair, sitting on a rock. He was a sorcerer, with the power to either calm the raging sea or wreck ships at will. Not only that, but the cave itself would sometimes echo with the voices of three beautiful nymphs. Their singing was so sweet and enchanting that it filled the fishermen with awe and a strange sense of peace.

The plot of the Tempest seems to draw on a very similar idea. Do you remember when Ariel tells Prospero about the shipwrecked sailors?

Safely in harbour

Is the King’s ship; in the deep nook,

[…] there she’s hid:

The mariners all under hatches stow’d,

Who, with a charm joined to their suffered labour,

I have left asleep.                                                             (2.1.269–278)

Ariel has hidden the exhausted sailors in the “deep nook”- essentially a magic cave - where they sleep under a spell, safe from the storm.

And just like the legend’s three nymphs, The Tempest has its own trio of beautiful spirits: Iris, Ceres, and Juno, who appear in order to celebrate Miranda and Ferdinand’s wedding. They bless the couple with their sweet, lyrical songs, echoing the wonder and peace of the Grotta del Mago.

Secondly, Ischia has always been famous for its volcanic activity - something even the author of The Tempest hints at with his phrase “the fires and cracks of sulphurous roaring.” But that’s not all. Up until the late seventeenth century, there was an evil-smelling pool on the island, slightly inland from what is now the port. In the winter, high, stormy tides would wash seaweed into this pool, where it would rot in the summer heat, creating an obnoxious smell. It wasn’t until 1670 that a channel to the sea was finally dug, allowing the water to drain and the smell to vanish.

Intriguingly, there is reference to such a place in The Tempest. Remember when Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo attempt to rebel against Prospero? They end up in a stinking pool. Ariel tells Prospero:

At last I left them

I’ th’ filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell,

There dancing up to th’ chins, that the foul lake

O’erstunk their feet. (4.1.203–205)

It can’t have been a pleasant place!

Thirdly: Ischia wasn’t just about legends, storms, and pools — it was also home to some remarkable people, particularly a poetess who helped to create a renowned literary circle of women in the Aragonese Castle there. She was much admired by some of the greatest poets and writers of the time, amongst whom Ludovico Ariosto, the author of Orlando Furioso, and Baldassare Castiglione, author of The Book of the Courtier.

This poetess was also a friend of Reginald Pole, who would later become the last Catholic Archbishop of Canterbury, and she was also a very close friend, indeed the spiritual muse, of Michelangelo, who wrote poetry for her and painted her portrait. In fact, some have even suggested that hers is the face of the Madonna in Michelangelo’s fresco The Last Judgement in the Sistine Chapel.

Her name was Vittoria Colonna. Born in 1490 into the powerful Colonna family, she belonged to one of Italy’s most influential dynasties, which included cardinals, princes, dukes, military leaders - and even a pope. Positioned at the very centre of Renaissance cultural life, she played a vital role in shaping literary history, inspiring and engaging with some of the greatest minds of her age.

So, could there be a link between Vittoria Colonna and The Tempest? To answer that question, we need to look more closely at the names of the characters in the play. Remarkably, seven of them, Ferdinando, Francisco, Alonso, Prospero, Gonzalo, Antonio, and Stephano, appear to be directly connected to her.

Here’s why. In 1509, Vittoria married the Aragonese nobleman Ferdinando Francisco d’Avalos in the castle of Ischia. His father was Alfonso (III) d’Avalos, whose name closely corresponds to Alonso in The Tempest (and we should remember that spelling was very flexible at that time).

Vittoria’s cousin was the celebrated general Prospero Colonna, who served under the highly respected Spanish commander Gonzalo Fernández de Córdoba, a former viceroy of Naples. Prospero Colonna later became Governor and Captain General of the Duchy of Milan, and as if that weren’t enough, his father was Antonio Colonna, Prince of Salerno, and his grandfather Stefano Colonna. I think you’ll agree that it seems unlikely that such a concentration of direct name overlaps could merely be a coincidence.

So, let’s take a closer look at  these people. Some of them appear in the 1521 edition of Orlando Furioso by the great Italian Renaissance poet Ludovico Ariosto, whose work was well-known by the London writers of the time. In Canto XXXIII of this great epic poem, Ariosto sings the praises of Alfonso (III) d'Avalos of Ischia, celebrating his military prowess. However, it was his son, Ferdinando Francisco, who really left his mark on Italian history.

In 1525 at the Battle of Pavia, Ferdinando fought as part of the Imperial army and used clever military tactics that inflicted devastating losses on the French forces and led to the capture of their king, Francis I, a very unusual turn of events. This crushing defeat effectively ended French ambitions of expansion in Italy, at least for the time being. 

Tragically, Ferdinando didn’t live long after the victory, as later that same year he succumbed to the wounds sustained in battle. Today, his coffin can still be seen in the sacristy of the church of San Domenico Maggiore in Naples, resting alongside thirty-seven other burials of fifteenth and sixteenth century royals and nobles.

By the way, if you ever have the opportunity, the church is definitely worth a visit. I’ve included a link on the website, together with a photograph of the stunning  Flemish tapestries housed in the Capodimonte Museum in Naples, which show Ferdinando d’Avalos in action at the Battle of Pavia.

Returning to Canto XXXIII of Orlando Furioso, we also come across another major military figure of the time, Prospero Colonna. Like Alfonso d'D’Avalos, he is celebrated as a model of courage and virtue. And while we are talking about Prospero Colonna, it is worth noting that his praises were frequently sung by the writer Matteo Bandello, a few of whose stories later became sources for several plays in the Shakespearean canon, most notably Romeo and Juliet.

So, here we have the names of four of the most important characters in The Tempest: Alfonso, Ferdinando, Francisco and Prospero.

Now let’s turn to Vittoria Colonna herself. As we’ve mentioned, she was Prospero’s cousin and the wife of Ferdinando d’Avalos. After her husband’s death, and while still living on the island of Ischia, she gained fame for her elegiac and Petrarchan verse. A book of her Rime - rhymes - was published in 1538. To give a sense of her style, I have translated an abridged excerpt from one of her poems:

Through hard rocks and wild winds

I navigate the waves of this life in my fragile boat,

[…] the sea is rough and the air full of anger,

a sign that another dark tempest is rolling in,

[…] yet it pains me to sail without hope.                                Rime, Sonnet LXXXVI

In Canto XXXVII of Orlando Furioso, Ariosto devotes three full stanzas to Vittoria, singling her out as a woman most worthy of praise, not just for her literary talent, but also for her moral stature. He even says she’s admired by Phoebus, the sun god himself. Interestingly, the word Ariosto uses for “admires” is mira, which is strikingly close to the name Miranda, meaning “the admired one”.

I would suggest therefore that The Tempest tells a fantastical version of how Vittoria Colonna—reimagined as Miranda—came to marry Ferdinand (Ferdinando d’Avalos) on the island of Ischia. 

And there’s more. In Orlando Furioso, the sorcerer Merlin predicts the future military glory of Prospero Colonna. Historically, Prospero was a successful military leader fighting on behalf of the Duke of Milan, while in the play, Prospero the magician, declares himself to be the Duke of Milan. The parallel is hard to ignore. It’s almost as if in The Tempest, Prospero and Merlin have been merged into a single figure.

While Orlando Furioso mentions these characters as well as the island of Ischia, the poem does not mention the legend of the sorcerer’s cave, a local tale that was largely unknown beyond the island itself. That leaves us with an intriguing question to investigate: how did the playwright come to know about it?

But let’s return to the figure of Prospero, who is traditionally viewed as representing William Shakespeare himself: a learned figure who, clothed in his “magic garment” and armed with his “so potent art,” controls the destinies of the characters in his plays. At the close of The Tempest, Prospero vows to “drown [his] book” and set Ariel free. Since Ariel is usually interpreted as a symbol of Shakespeare’s own creative spirit, this act becomes a powerful and poignant gesture, marking the end of an extraordinary career in the theatre.

And yet, there is something strangely haunting about this farewell, something which implies more than just a playwright hanging up his hat. Throughout the play there runs an undercurrent of light and darkness: the ethereal spirit Ariel set against the sinister monster Caliban, good against evil, harmony against violence — all shadowed by the presence of death. In Act I, Ariel sings to Ferdinand, persuading him that his father, Alonso, has perished in the shipwreck. Yet the song presents death not as decay, but as a mysterious and beautiful transformation of the soul:

Full fathom five thy father lies;

Of his bones are coral made;

Those are pearls that were his eyes:

Nothing of him that doth fade,

But doth suffer a sea-change

Into something rich and strange. (1.2.474-479)

At the other end of the play, in the epilogue, Prospero expresses the hope that he has pleased the audience with his art, but in return asks a favour. The last six lines seem to indicate a sense of suffering and desire for death:

And my ending is despair,

Unless I be relieved by prayer,

Which pierces so that it assaults

Mercy itself and frees all faults.

As you from crimes would pardon'd be,

Let your indulgence set me free. (5.Epilogue 15-20)

Prospero concludes by asking the audience for prayer and for an indulgence, which in the Catholic tradition, was a means by which the temporal punishment for sin might be reduced or remitted. He wishes to be set free, to be released, but from what? Could it be from This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine? In other words, free from Caliban? What might Caliban represent? Do you have any initial thoughts?

In conclusion, let’s summarise what we have discovered so far: we’ve seen that the author of The Tempest most likely took inspiration from Cantos XXXIII and XXXVII of Ariosto’s epic poem Orlando Furioso, both for the characters of the play and for the island setting of Ischia. However, while the island’s local legend of the Grotta del Mago seems to have helped shape the plot, we don’t know how the author came to know about it. Finally, what does sinister Caliban represent? Of course, it’s still very early days in our investigation, but keep in mind these questions as sooner or later we will find the answers.

In the next Case File, entitled The Verona Mystery Part 1, we’ll be looking at the importance of this northern Italian town in several plays. So I hope you will join me for some more intriguing research which will provide further insights into the Shakespearean world.