Introduction: Early Modern Affective Ecologies

he Tempest begins, famously, with a shipwreck that isn ’ t. As a “ tempes-tuous noise of thunder and lightning [is] heard, ” a boatswain and his fellow mariners contend with wind and weather while the ship ’ s passengers complain and interfere. 1 The ship splits, and all are lost — except it doesn ’ t, and they aren ’ t, because the whole scene has been an elaborate piece of what the play will call Prospero ’ s “ art. ” The ship ’ s passengers emerge unscathed and even (if Gonzalo is to be believed) dry, their “ garments . . . as fresh as when [they] put them on fi rst in Africa ” (2.1.70 – 71). First performed in the enclosed space of Blackfriars Theatre, rather than in the open-air Globe, the play repeatedly contrasts containment and exposure. The fragile, leaky wooden ship suggests a porous vessel not unlike the theater in which the action is being staged: Gonzalo, cursing the boatswain, insists that the ship is “ no stronger than a nutshell and as leaky as an unstanched wench ” (1.1.45 – 47). 2 As the ship appears to sink, the mariners within and without let out cries of “‘ We split, we split ’ — ’ Farewell, my wife and children! ’ — / ‘ Farewell, brother! ’ — ’ We split, we split, we split! ’” (1.1.60 – 62). This splitting open is paralleled by a similar description of an opening of the heavens insuf fi cient to save the helmsman from hanging, even “ Though every drop of water swear against it /And gape at widest to glut him ” (1.1.58 – 59). Together, these moments underscore how the theater and real life open onto each other: the play ’ s