Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The comparison of William Wordsworth as being a poet of the ordinary and Samuel Taylor Coleridge as a poet of the supernatural mentioned in the podcast seems an apt one. Wordsworth seems to stress the extraordinary in the ordinary, while the challenge of Coleridge is making sense of his improbabilities. Coleridge’s The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is certainly supernatural, featuring a mysterious mariner who tells a chilling tale. The unexpected abounds and it would be easy to write reams on this unexpected series of events, but I consider it more interesting to try to tie the story together. Trying to tie the story together involves a search for a moral, some overarching message to stick with the reader.

One possible moral is given at the end of the poem:
“He prayeth well, who loveth well/ Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best/ All things great and small; / For the dear God who loveth us / He made and loveth all” (lines 611-617, 340).
What makes this moral so seemingly obvious is its direct connection to the ancient mariner’s story. If the mariner had not shot the albatross, his troubles would not have been so severe. It was the death of the albatross which led to his current condition. When asked why he looks so haunted by fiends, the mariner replies, “With my cross-bow/I shot the ALBATROSS” (lines 81-81, 328). Every misfortune that befalls him befalls him because he has shot the albatross. The ship cannot sail because of what he has done, “And I had done a hellish thing/And it would work ‘em woe:/For all averred, I had killed the bird that made the breeze to blow!” (lines 91-94, 329). As a result, the crew is stranded in the middle of the ocean without water to drink. The crew forces the mariner to wear the albatross, “Instead of the cross, the Albatross/About my neck was hung” (lines 142-143, 330). However, this is not a sincere repentant action on the part of the mariner and his misery continues. His crewmates die, and still he cannot escape the memory of killing the albatross. Each death just increases the nightmarish feel, “every soul, it passed me by, /like the whiz of my CROSS-BOW!” (lines 222-223, 331). Even attempts at prayer do not release the mariner from this torment, “I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray; But or ever a prayer had gusht, / A wicked whisper came, and made/my heart as dry as dust” (lines 244-247, 332). To be released from this torture, he must know how it feels to respect the wildlife; he must really feel the loss of an animal. His killing the albatross offended the Polar Spirit, who “loved the bird that loved the man/ Who shot him with his bow” (lines 404-405, 336). The mariner’s release comes when, upon observing the water snakes, he notices their loveliness, “O happy living things! No tongue/ Their beauty might declare:/And I blessed them unaware!” (lines 282-285, 333). He is finally able to speak, and even more significant, he literally has a weight lifted off him. He no longer has to bear the actual albatross, “The self same moment I could pray;/And from my neck so free/The Albatross fell off, and sank/Like lead into the sea” (lines 288-291, 333). This is a turning point in the story; after this point, the mariner has his thirst satiated and can sleep; finally, he reaches land. The enormity of this event is key evidence for the given theme to be the theme of the work.

A question raised in the podcast is whether this given moral is enough of a moral or not enough. I would argue that it is both too much and not enough. It is too fitting of a moral to satisfy me; it has great textual support and makes sense but it just seems too perfect. In that sense, it is too much of a theme, much too obvious. Going with the given moral makes this a wild adventure for a very simple theme. It is also sort of a let down, too little of a moral. Where is the ingenuity of a renowned poet in such a straightforward moral? The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is hardly a child’s bedtime story. Given the wild adventure and supernatural occurrences, I am still searching for a more appropriate moral.

It was mentioned in the podcast that Coleridge was interested in the workings of the mind. Psychologically, the mariner has very complex and intense feelings. His telling of the stories is a sorting through of these events and feelings, making sense of them. It has been said that authors write about what they know. Perhaps an underlying moral for Coleridge, with his feelings of worthlessness due to his opium addiction and inability to finish tasks, is to talk about his problems. In the same way that Coleridge might have had a need for some sort of talking therapy, the ancient mariner must tell his tale. It is a compulsion he cannot escape, “Forewith this frame of mine was wrenched/With a woeful agony, /Which forced me to begin my tale; /And then it left me free” (lines 578-581, 340). Is this perhaps example of the subconscious informing the conscious? Coleridge telling himself that things would be better if he could just work through his problems? It is not a once and for all deal, but an intermittent need, “Since then, at an uncertain hour, /That agony returns:/And till my ghastly tale is told, /The heart within me burns” (lines 582-585, 340). It is perhaps a sign that we must all tell our tales, that lessons learned must be shared for the good of others as well as ourselves. At the same time, we must be good listeners to others, as the bridegroom who “cannot choose but hear” (line 19, 327).