The Sublime Savage: Caliban on Setebos Essay -- Caliban on Setebos Ess

The Sublime Savage: Caliban on Setebos "Caliban my slave, who never / Yields us kind answer." (The Tempest, I.ii.310-1) "Caliban on Setebos" was one of Robert Browning's more popular poems among the Victorians, for its presumed satire of orthodox Calvinism, Puritanism, and similarly grim Christian sects. And Browning as Shakespeare's savage does indeed seem to hurl a few barbs in that direction, but the poet's exercise seems to be as much one in alternative theology. Caliban's bog-bound conjectures, in their significant departures from standard religious doctrine, serve as both an interesting repudiation of Archdeacon Paley's attempts to rationalize God, and as an entertaining 'science-fiction' tale, if you will, of religious thought under alternate circumstances. Caliban is, of course, the "salvage and deformed slave" of Shakespeare's dramatis personae in The Tempest, son of the deceased witch Sycorax, servant of the mage Prospero, consort of and bootlicker for Stephano and Trinculo, failed plotters and drunken buffoons. "As disproportion'd in his manners / As in his shape" (V.i.290-1), he has tried to ravish Prospero's daughter Miranda before being exiled to his cave, and in the course of the play attempts to overthrow Prospero himself and install Stephano on the throne of the island. At last, though, Duke Prospero comes to pardon even Caliban -- "This thing of darkness I / acknowledge mine" (V.i.275-6), and his drudge promises to "be wise hereafter, / and seek for grace" (V.i.294-5) or favor with his master. Browning certainly did his research in crafting the poem: near the end of the work, Caliban cowers under Setebos' "raven that has told... ... in a way, / Taketh his mirth with make-believes" (ll. 168-9). Caliban's easy acceptance of a capricious, often cruel deity, and his willingness to abase himself in penance for irrational divine anger, serves as a satiric reproof to both Paley and the Calvinists, and eloquent support for Browning's more palatable God of love. Shakespeare's Prospero claims that, without his help and education, Caliban "didst not, savage, / Know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like / A thing most brutish" (I.ii.357-9). Some of Browning's detractors considered "Caliban on Setebos" still to be brutish, for its harsh language and unpleasant philosophy. Yet the poem is successful in its aim: it is an effective purgative to complacent religious theory, and an entertaining glimpse into a putative religion based on quite different tenets from Victorian Christianity.