Shakespeare’s Greatest Lie: A Monstrously Humane Caliban
In Act III, Scene II of William Shakespeare’s The Tempest, the intoxicated Caliban, Stephano, and Trinculo scheme together to kill Prospero, consequently further cementing Caliban’s identity as a monster. However, Caliban delivers a poetic monologue that reveals a caring, comforting, and nurturing side to him. In the monologue, Caliban’s emotional intelligence is seen by his masterful sibilance, his musical intelligence is displayed with hyperbole, and his heartfelt connection to his home is demonstrated with detailed imagery, all of which contradict his identity as a monster. The monologue humanizes the vilified Caliban and the effect is it allows the audience to see Caliban for his poetic mastery instead of his label as “monster” and blurs, essentially for every character, their rigid identity as either “good” or “bad”. With this monologue, Shakespeare begins his social commentary that human nature is not bad or good or black or white, but a grey, with a mixture of both good and bad qualities and intentions; further, as demonstrated by Caliban’s poetry, evil characters are capable of tremendous good.
Caliban’s emotional intelligence to realize Stephano and Trinculo’s fright and then assuage it helps to humanize his character immensely. Stephano and Trinculo believe the island’s torturous sounds will soon kill them. Stephano cries, “Mercy upon us!” (3.2.145). This breaking point strips the veneer of their jovial personalities, exposing their naked fear of death. It is not pleasant. Caliban passes on a prime opportunity to exploit or manipulate them and instead caringly asks Stephano, “Art thou afeard?” (3.2.146). Stephano responds, “No, monster, not I” (3.2.147). Stephano lies about being terrified and calls Caliban a monster, but Caliban carries on with, “Be not afeard” (3.2.148) and reassures Stephano the sounds, “give delight and hurt not” (3.2.149). Caliban communicates the sources of the island’s strange noises with the comforting sound of sibilance. The repeated ‘s’ sounds make Calican speech flow and “feel” light. A soothing sound is achieved: “the isle is full of noises, / Sounds and sweet airs” (3.2.148–149). Caliban uses sibilance in the way a mother would hush her crying baby, so a “soft” sound is communicated to alleviate the worry for a harmless reality. This shows a deep level of empathy by Caliban and a flawless execution of a difficult literary device in that of sibilance.
Caliban continues to shock the audience with some musical intelligence and the use of hyperbole to convert Stephano and Trinculo’s fear into appreciation for the musical sounds and comfort. Initially, Stephano equates the island’s sounds to the devil, “If thou be’st a / devil, take ‘t as thou list” (3.2.107). This comment denigrates the island, for it associates its sound with the devil. To change their perspective to one which appreciates the noise’s beauty Caliban says the sound, “Sometimes [comes from] a thousand twangling instruments” (3.2.150). Caliban uses hyperbole and slight alliteration with “a thousand twangling” to continue to elevate his speech above Stephano’s prose. By doing so, the audience believes in Caliban’s opinion upon the nature of the sound. This opinion is further supported by the mention of instruments. A “thousand twangling instruments” frames the islands sound as a majestic orchestra of instruments, something the audience can associate with. This musical intelligence further blurs Caliban’s identity of a monster. Moreso, it proves Caliban can change not only himself but others. Stephano and Trinculo see this terrifying experience more positively, and this garners respect from the audience helping to humanize Caliban.
The detailed imagery Caliban creates describes his blissful relationship to the island itself which further distances his character from a monster. The pleasantness of the sound put Caliban in an almost continuous cycle of sleep: “and sometimes voices / That, if I then had woken up after a long sleep, / Will make me sleep again” (3.2.152–153). Not only does Caliban love the island, but the island reciprocates by easing the burden of his slave duties by putting him to rest with great frequency. It is this very position of slave which exacerbates his monstrous identity. Though with imagery: “In dreaming, / The clouds methought would open, and shows riches / Ready to drop upon me; that, when I waked, / I cried to dream again.” (3.2.152–156) Caliban’s identity of slave is not at the forefront of any of the audience’s mind. The lullaby-like sound places Caliban in peaceful state of dream that is so good that money falls from the sky: “riches / Ready to drop upon me”. The ending part to the monologue reveals an innocence to Caliban. This imagery by Caliban gives the audience a peaceful moment to break from the schemes to kill the King Alonso and Prospero and the messiness of the situations.
Caliban initially claims the language that binds him to his tormentors, Prospero and Miranda, is terrible, telling Miranda, “You taught me language, and my profit on’t is I know how to curse. The red plague rid you for learning me your language” (1.2.366–368). Caliban changes from cursing to using sibilance, hyperbole, and imagery effectively. It is a maturity that wins him his humanity from the audience and essentially frees the audience from judging all the characters solely by their readily assigned labels or status. Why must any human earn their humanity? With this question Shakespeare can leave the world in a peace like Caliban sleeping on his island.
