Caliban

“ PROSPERO Setebos’. Ha, ’tis not his lust I dread, Nay, nor his tiger tooth, nor belly on fire: [Pg 82] ’Tis when his fever cools: when the gray ash Covers the life-flame, and the boiling senses Skim with thin ice, and the rank bloom wears hoar-frost: Not savage souls, ’tis dead souls that defeat us. Not red, but gray—gray.
[While Prospero and Ariel have spoken together above, Caliban, below, has been drawn half hypnotized by Death toward the cell.]
DEATH [To Caliban.] Follow me.
CALIBAN I follow!
DEATH [At the cell’s mouth, lifts the gray cloak to put upon Caliban.] ”

“ Women dancers with golden bowls, slaves shackled and driven with whips, rabble groups scrambling for bread loaves flung them by heralds, armed soldiery, and gorgeous patrician lords: these swarm in a sordid saturnalia, from the midst of which the masked form of Caligula rises dominant in splendor. At his gesture, slaves tear the Muses from their shrine, and give them over to the revellers.
High above all, clutching the staff, his huge limbs rioting grotesque from his silken garments, Caliban dances on the throne of Prospero. ”

“ ARIEL So, Master! [Ariel leads Lust away to the cell beneath.] [Pg 73]
MIRANDA [Rising, goes to Prospero’s arms.] Father! [From the outer dimness, Caliban—who, since the appearance of the burning Cross, has lain flat on the throne steps— now grovels forward [trailing his silken garment by one sleeve] and flings the staff of Prospero into the light space.]
CALIBAN No more! Will never touch it more!
PROSPERO [Staring at the staff.] A thousand years To build, and build for beauty, yet in one flare Of riot lust, a lubber idiot Confounds time and my toil.—Ah, daughter, daughter! ”

“ PROSPERO Insolence infinite! Ariel, my staff!
MIRANDA Stay!—What to do?
PROSPERO [About to raise the staff.] To teach This unwhipt hound—to howl.
CALIBAN [Starting back.] Great Master!
MIRANDA Grace, Dear Father! Patience needs no quick compulsion. Thine art is wondrous patient, and this poor Slow climber needs thine art.
PROSPERO Why, once again Thou art my wiser self. [To Caliban.] Go, lick her hand, And feed from it. [Pg 115]
CALIBAN [Laying his cheek on Miranda’s hand weeps, with great sobs.] Spring—Spring-i’-the-air, thy dew Dabbleth my face. ”

“ In Shakespeare's Tempest Caliban is the gross, brutal element of the earth and is opposed to Ariel, the light, swift, fine element of the air. Caliban curses Prospero with the evils of the earth, with the wicked dew of the fen and the red plague of the sea-marsh. Browning's Caliban does not curse at all. When he is not angered, or in a caprice, he is a good-natured creature, full of animal enjoyment. ”

“ If Caliban strikes us as a more wonderful creation than Ariel, it is probably because he has more in common with us, without being in any proper sense human. Perhaps I cannot hit him off better than by saying that he represents, both in body and soul, a sort of intermediate nature between man and brute, with an infusion of something that belongs to neither; as though one of the transformations imagined by the Developmentists had stuck midway in its course, where a breath or vapour of essential Evil had knit itself vitally into his texture. ”

“ In fine, if Caliban is, so to speak, the organized sediment and dregs of the place, from which all the finer spirit has been drawn off to fashion the delicate Ariel, yet having some parts of a human mind strangely interwoven with his structure; every thing about him, all that he does and says, is suitable and correspondent to such a constitution of nature. So that all the elements and attributes of his being stand and work together in living coherence, thus rendering him no less substantive and personal to our apprehension than he is original and peculiar in himself. ”

“ Here, let me hold the staff. [Caliban reaches for the staff; Ariel raises it warningly.]
ARIEL Stay! Touch it not Lest it shall scorch thy fingers and set fire To the building world. The staff of Prospero Is for his servants, not for slaves, to wield.
CALIBAN [Drawing back from it, in fear.] Scorcheth my fingers, ah?—So wield it, thou! Show me once more the snake-bright queen.
ARIEL Nay, Egypt No more! But come with me to Prosper’s throne Where I play master now. Here thou shalt sit And watch the battlements of eternal Troy Where Troilus woos inconstant Cressida. ”

“ ARIEL O Spirits, I have dreamed, but Death has closed My sight in darkness. Spirits, I have begotten Sweet Joy, but Lust hath drowned her in his wine. Yea, I have wove Love wings, but War hath robbed them And riven his lovely body all alive To feed the hungering flames of Setebos. My Spirits, I your master am unmastered. Speak to me! Comfort me! Is there no joy, No love, no dream, that shall survive this dark? Hath this our isle no king but Caliban? Are there no yellow sands where we shall dance To greet the master of a timeless dawn? ”

“ The idea in his mind at that moment was the ludicrous scene in which the drunken Stephano comes upon the queer bundle, made up of Caliban and Trinculo, lying head to head under the same frock, and appearing to his unsteady eyes like a monster with two pairs of legs at each end. As Robert looked into the tree, he almost laughed to catch himself fancying that he saw Caliban's head lying on the same limb on which lay the squirrel's tail, and staring at him with its two great eyes. ”

“ CALIBAN [Going within the cave, as Sycorax disappears.] Free, saith? Will dance by yellow sands?—Now, Spirit, dance!
[As Caliban goes within, the powers of Setebos come forth. At the altar beneath Ariel, the three Priests lead them in ceremonial rites of primeval pageantry and dance—the sacrificial worship of Setebos. Above them Ariel suffers, with closed eyes. In their rites, Lust pours his libation, and lights the altar fire, which—when War has made there his living sacrifice—Death extinguishes in darkness. Through the dark, which gradually changes to a glowing dusky Ariel speaks aloud.] ”

“ DEATH Nay, thou hast failed.
[Lifting the scroll of Prospero, which he has taken from Caliban, Death makes a gesture to his followers.]
Bear her to Setebos!
[Then, laying his hand upon Caliban, he turns with him backward, as a group of the gray-cloaked Shapes raise the limp form of Miranda to a cloth-draped bier, and thus bear her downward toward the cell’s mouth. In dim processional, as they go, they raise again their dirge:] [Pg 107]
THE DIRGE Gray—gray—gray: Love, be sin-born of Misgiving! Life, be a garment of dullness, drab from the loom! ”

“ Caliban [alarmed] Methinks like music have I heard before
When Prospero I did serve. And it should bode
Damn’d Prospero’s return then were I slave
Again, doing his will in everything.
Stephano. What is this same that sings i’ the air without lips or body?
Trinculo [returning with food which he places before Caliban] Master Nobody is at his ancient tricks. An’ he be a devil, he hath an angel’s voice.
Caliban. Retire ye both, for I would be alone. ”

“ CALIBAN [Stops, with a hissing growl.] Syc- Syc-Sycorax! Sycorax!
SYCORAX [Reappearing.] Mole in the mire, wilt squeak When thou art trod on?—Bite! Bite, Setebos’ son! Let the brave wonder breed of thee. [Pg 22]
CALIBAN Aye, mother. [With rising passion—to Miranda.] A child! Shalt bear me such as thou, with head Of Caliban: no eel-worm, nay—a wonder, With lily feet, that walk. Ho, Setebos!
SYCORAX Setebos! Mate them at thine altar.
MIRANDA [Fleeing from Caliban, pauses in terror of Sycorax.] Save me! ”

“ Thou think’st there is no more such shapes as he,
Having seen but him and Caliban: foolish wench!
480 To the most of men this is a Caliban,
And they to him are angels.
Mir.
My affections
Are, then, most humble; I have no ambition
To see a goodlier man. ”

“ His days are narrow as the days of browsing sheep and cattle; but his soul knows the lecherous intent, the petty hate, the cankerous envy, the evil discontents, indigenous only to the soul of man. Plainly, Caliban is man, not beast; for his proclivities, while bestial, are still human. In a beast is a certain dignity, in that action is instinctive, irrevocable, and so far necessary. Caliban is not so. He might be other than he is. He is depraved, but yet a man, as Satan was an angel, though fallen. The most profligate man has earmarks of manhood on him that no beast can duplicate. ”

“ Master Barnardine in Measure for Measure, the savage of civilized life, is an admirable philosophical counterpart to Caliban.
Shakespear has, as it were by design, drawn off from Caliban the elements of whatever is ethereal and refined, to compound them in the unearthly mould of Ariel. Nothing was ever more finely conceived than this contrast between the material and the spiritual, the gross and delicate. Ariel is imaginary power, the swiftness of thought personified. ”

“ But, in illustration of the sense in which the Latin "benignus" and "malignus" are to be coupled with Eleutheria and Douleia, note that Caliban's torment is always the physical reflection of his own nature—"cramps" and "side stitches that shall pen thy breath up; thou shalt be pinched, as thick as honeycombs:" the whole nature of slavery being one cramp and cretinous contraction. Fancy this of Ariel! You may fetter him, but you set no mark on him; you may put him to hard work and far journey, but you cannot give him a cramp. ”

“ This Caliban, Prospero found in the woods, a strange misshapen thing, far less human in form than an ape: he took him home to his cell, and taught him to speak; and Prospero would have been very kind to him, but the bad nature which Caliban inherited from his mother Sycorax, would not let him learn any thing good or useful: therefore he was employed like a slave, to fetch wood, and do the most laborious offices; and Ariel had the charge of compelling him to these services. ”

“ Made them to plague, as Caliban would have done. And caprice is Setebos's method. He does things wantonly. No noble master passion flames in him. No goodness blesses him. Such a god Caliban makes, so that it is odds whether Caliban make God or God make Caliban. Be sure, a man-made god is like the man who made him. The sole explanation of God, "who dwelleth in light which no man can approach unto," and who is whiter than the light in which he dwells, is, he is not myth, man-made. God made man, and revealed to him the Maker. ”

“ Set Caliban and his companions free; Untie the spell. [Exit ARIEL] How fares my gracious sir? There are yet missing of your company Some few odd lads that you remember not.
Re-enter ARIEL, driving in CALIBAN, STEPHANO, and
TRINCULO, in their stolen apparel STEPHANO. Every man shift for all the rest, and let no man take care for himself; for all is but fortune. Coragio, bully-monster, coragio! TRINCULO. If these be true spies which I wear in my head, here's a goodly sight. CALIBAN. O Setebos, these be brave spirits indeed! How fine my master is! I am afraid He will chastise me. ”

“ Caliban, poor noisy Caliban, thinks that when he has ceased to make mows at a thing, the thing ceases to exist. But if he mocks no longer, it is because he has been met with mockery, swifter and keener than his own, and for a moment has been bitterly schooled into that silence which should seal for ever his uncouth distorted lips. What has been done up to now, has been chiefly in the clearing of the way. It is always more difficult to destroy than it is to create, and when what one has to destroy is vulgarity and stupidity, the task of destruction needs not merely courage but also contempt. ”

“ Caliban’s chief characteristics—and perhaps the main source of his power over others—that he could crystallize, or—to use the modern term—“wankle,” the thought of his generation into sharp unexpected phrases. Among others, this was constantly upon his lips:—
“We live in stirring times.” ”

“ During this last Action, Prospero and Ariel [above] have withdrawn through the Cloudy Curtains, leaving Caliban alone, staring spellbound at the many-hued festival below him. [Pg 78]
ACT II [Now, when the Italian Interlude is concluded, the light—passing to the middle stage—illumines at centre the lone figure of Caliban, where he squats above his cell. Gazing out over the ground-circle, he calls aloud his yearning thoughts:]
CALIBAN O Sands—Yellow Sands! ”

“ SCENE 2 Another part of the island
Enter CALIBAN, with a burden of wood. A noise of thunder heard
CALIBAN. All the infections that the sun sucks up From bogs, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and make him By inch-meal a disease! His spirits hear me, And yet I needs must curse. But they'll nor pinch, Fright me with urchin-shows, pitch me i' th' mire, Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark Out of my way, unless he bid 'em; but For every trifle are they set upon me; Sometime like apes that mow and chatter at me, And after bite me ”

“ I will fetch off my bottle, though I be o’er ears for my labour.
CALIBAN.
Prithee, my King, be quiet. Seest thou here,
This is the mouth o’ th’ cell: no noise, and enter.
Do that good mischief which may make this island
Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban,
For aye thy foot-licker.
STEPHANO.
Give me thy hand. I do begin to have bloody thoughts.
TRINCULO.
O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy Stephano!
Look what a wardrobe here is for thee!
CALIBAN.
Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash.
TRINCULO.
O, ho, monster! we know what belongs to a frippery. O King Stephano! ”

“ Caliban laid his hand in a fatherly way upon my shoulder and said:
“You are still young; you do not know how long fame may take to find a man, if the way is not pointed out to her; and if she takes too long, sometimes he dies of a broken heart.” ”