The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Samuel Taylor Coleridge The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
The following entry presents criticism of Coleridge's poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (1798). See also, "Kubla Khan" Criticism and Lyrical Ballads Criticism.
A major work of the English Romantic movement, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is considered one of the most significant and famous poems in the English language. While the poem was poorly received during Coleridge's lifetime, it is now praised as a classic example of imaginative poetry, characterizing Coleridge's poetic theories, of which he said in the Biographia Literaria, "My endeavors should be directed to persons and characters spiritual and supernatural, or at least romantic."
In 1796 Coleridge met the poet William Wordsworth, with whom he had corresponded casually for several years. Their rapport was instantaneous, and the next year Coleridge moved to Nether Stowey in the Lake District, where he, Wordsworth and Robert Southey became known as "the Lake Poets." Much of Coleridge's most admired work was composed between the years 1798 and 1800, his most prolific period as a poet. During that time, Wordsworth and Coleridge collaborated on Lyrical Ballads, with a few Other Poems (1798), in which The Rime of the Ancient Mariner appears. Lyrical Ballads marks the beginning of the Romantic movement in England, and is a landmark of world literature.
Plot and Major Characters
Coleridge's The Ancient Mariner appears in Lyrical Ballads in a purposefully "archaic" form, with words spelled in the manner of an earlier day. Coleridge changed some of the archaic diction of the original Ancient Marinere for the second edition of Lyrical Ballads and added glosses in the margins when it was included in Sibylline Leaves (1817). In its original form and in the modified version that followed, the poem describes an elderly mariner who, compelled to wander the Earth repeating his tale of woe, narrates his story to a wedding guest he meets in a village street. The story he tells relates how, in his youth, the mariner had set out on a sea voyage to the Southern Hemisphere with two hundred other men aboard a sailing ship. During the voyage, the ship is shadowed by an albatross, a huge seabird considered an omen of good fortune by seafarers. For no good reason, the mariner shoots the albatross dead with his crossbow, to the horror of his companions. In a short time, the ship is becalmed, and soon all the crew members die of thirst—all except the mariner. Before they died, the angry crew hung the dead albatross around the mariner's neck for his folly; and now, stricken with the horror of his deed's consequences, the mariner spends his time watching the phosphorescent trails of slimy creatures who writhe and coil in the night waters in the ship's shadow. In his heart, he blesses these humble creatures for their life and beauty, and at that moment, as he leans over the ship's side, the curse on his life begins to lift, as the albatross falls from his neck and sinks into the sea. The rest of the poem tells of the supernatural events that took place as spirits and angels propel the ship north into the snug harbor of the mariner's home town and his rescue by a holy hermit, who pronounces the terms of the mariner's penance upon him. The poem presents a variety of religious and supernatural images to depict a moving spiritual journey of doubt, sin, punishment, renewal, and eventual redemption.
The Ancient Mariner begins with almost the sense of classical Greek tragedy, with a man who has offended against pagan forces condemned to wander the world and repeat his tale to passersby when the daemon within him moves him. There is much in this poem concerning luck, fate, and fortune; this and the theme of death-in-life appear throughout the poems first half, with death-in-life, graphically symbolized by the revivified crew of corpses, appearing from the poem's mid-point almost too the end. There is a point of transition between pagan and Christian elements in the poem, falling at the moment the mariner blesses the sea-snakes in his heart. Death-in-life continues, and elemental spirits converse in the poet's conscious. Yet now, a redemptive presence is at work in the mariner's life, and even the elemental spirits and the living dead are subservient to it, as it becomes apparent that angelic beings have taken over the bodies of the dead crew and are bringing the ship into port. Christian themes and imagery become more pronounced as the poem nears its end, with the mariner declaiming about the quiet, longed-for joy of walking to church with his friends in the village, and then uttering one of the most-quoted stanzas in the entire poem: "He prayeth best who loveth best / All things both great and small; / For the dear God who loveth us, / He made and loveth all"—lines expressing sentiments endorsed by even so formidable an agnostic as Theodore Dreiser. Much of the poem's Biblical and medieval Catholic imagery has sparked radically different interpretations, and several commentators consider it an allegorical record of Coleridge's own spiritual pilgrimage. Coleridge himself, however, commented that the poem's major fault consisted of "the obtrusion of the moral sentiment so openly on the reader. . . . It ought to have had no more moral than the Arabian Nights' tale of the merchant's sitting down to eat dates."
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner was initially disliked and, because it was the longest poem in the collection, helped keep Lyrical Ballads from success. In a review shortly after its first publication, Southey called it "a Dutch attempt at German sublimity," and even Wordsworth disliked the negative appraisal the poem seemed to garner their entire volume. Although critical estimation of The Ancient Mariner increased dramatically after Coleridge's death, relatively little positive commentary was written on it until the turn of the century. Today, most critics agree that the poem constitutes a seminal contribution to English literature. Perhaps the most important twentieth-century study of The Ancient Mariner appeared in 1927 in John Livingston Lowes's magisterial work The Road to Xanadu: A Study in the Ways of the Imagination. Here, Lowes brought his broad and deep knowledge of poetic history, poetic diction, and the imagination to bear on Coleridge's early poetry in general and The Ancient Mariner in particular. Of Coleridge's first major poem, Lowes harked to themes from the works of Apuleius, Josephus, Michael Psellus, Marsilio Ficino, and many others to "make it clear—where for dæmons of the elements, or water-snakes, or sun, or moon—that the rich suggestiveness of a masterpiece of the imagination springs in some measure from the fact that infinitely more than reached expression lay behind it in the shaping brain, so that every detail is saturated and irradiated with the secret influence of those thronged precincts of the unexpressed. . . ." Other major scholars who have written at length on The Ancient Mariner include E. M. W. Tillyard, C. M. Bowra, Robert Penn Warren, A. E. Dyson, and Julian Lovelock. In response to critics such as Warren, who have read moral overtones into the poem, Camille Paglia has ruminated upon The Ancient Mariner as an expression of pagan visions of sexuality and possession—what T. S. Eliot termed "fear of fear and frenzy" and "fear of possession"—layered over with a veneer of Christian symbols. To Paglia, writing in her Sexual Personae: Art and Decadence from Nefertiti to Emily Dickinson (1990), the Mariner is a "male heroine," who is the receptor of all the active forces of nature which bear him down during the course of the poem's story. The symbols that recur in The Ancient Mariner, discussed by Paglia and others, have inspired critical debate over their aptness and Coleridge's use of them. James Stephens has written that "this poem is extreme, its fantasy is extreme, its knowledge of music and colour and pace is extreme," concluding, "No miracle of talent or technique can quite redeem untruth from being initially and persistently inhuman in both life and letters." Other critics, notably Lowes and Bowra, have found otherwise, with the latter writing that the poem succeeds because it is nevertheless "founded on realities in the living world and in the human heart." While a few commentators consider the poem overrated, contemporary scholars generally look to the poem as one of the greatest works of the English Romantic movement.
SOURCE: "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner as Prophecy," in The Sewanee Review, Vol. VI, No. 2, April, 1898, pp. 200-13.
[In the following essay, Guthrie discusses Coleridge's poetry, claiming that it expresses a clear Christian ethic]
I. THE ALLEGORY.
If ever a great poet set about his work with a deliberate religious purpose, Coleridge is that man. He believed a new and happier age had begun. His studies in the great philosophic systems of Germany, then new to the world, equipped him, he thought, for the task of reconciling science, political liberty, and the "Truth in Christ." He had, as he tells us in his glorious ode entitled "Dejection," the "Fancy" that made him "dreams of happiness" out of "all misfortunes;" and the "shaping spirit of Imagination" that could give living utterance to subtlest thought and feeling—utterance whereby they obtained a new dignity and a new power. Only when this "spirit" deserted him (for cause) did he turn to mere "abstruse research," the poet dying into critic, expounder of philosophy, and theologian.
It is, of course, as the poet of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner that he is most renowned. Had he written nothing else, he would not have been born in vain. Not merely as a stirring ballad, nor for its picturesque qualities, the skilful handling of the supernatural it evinces, does the average reader prize...
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SOURCE: "The Bird and the Dæsmon," in The Road to Xanadu: A Study in the Ways of the Imagination, 1927. Reprint by Vintage Books, 1959, pp. 201-20.
[In the following essay, Lowes discusses the source material that inspired The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, insisting that its dæmonic imagery exemplifies "the voyaging, Neoplatonizing, naively scientific spirit of the closing eighteenth century."]
Across the course of the voyage, just where its great loop swings around the southern termination of the continent, the albatross comes through the fog. And the shooting of the albatross sets the forces of the invisible world in motion. And the action of those forces is in turn bound up with the normal evolution, in experience, of cause and consequence. The albatross, in a word,—"that white phantom [which] sails in all imaginations," as Herman Melville in an eloquent passage calls it—binds inseparably together the three structural principles of the poem: the voyage, and the supernatural machinery, and the unfolding cycle of the deed's results.
It is the second of the three which we must now take into account. And the supernatural machinery, like the architectonic conception of the voyage, falls into our scheme, not as a series of interesting and often singular details, but as a controlling imaginative design. It determines, in a word, the action of the poem, precisely as the...
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SOURCE: "The Problem of the Imagination: Coleridge," in On Being Creative and Other Essays, Houghton Mifflin Company, 1932, pp. 97-133.
[In the following essay, Babbitt claims that, especially in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Coleridge overemphasizes the natural self ignoring a higher will in favor of a subrational animalistic self]
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SOURCE: "About S.T.C.," in As I Was Saying: A Book of Essays, Methuen & Co., Ltd., 1936, pp. 86-91.
[In the following excerpt, Chesterton derides criticism that would overemphasize the influence of opium on Coleridge and his poetry.]
It seems to me that the central genius of a man like Coleridge is not a thing to be dealt with by critics at all. If they really had anything worth saying about such a poet, they would write it in poetry. It is the curse upon all critics that they must write in prose. It is the specially blighting and blasting curse upon some of them, that they have to write in philosophical or psychological or generally analytical prose. I have never read a page of such criticism, however clear and clever, which brought me the most remote echo of the actual sound of the poetry or the power of poetical images, which are like magic talismans. Therefore, in writing about a man like Coleridge, we are driven back upon secondary things; upon his second best work, or upon the second- or third-rate controversies aroused by that work. In that sense, of course, there are any number of second-rate things to be said of Coleridge. It is suggested, for instance, that the abnormal or enormous enlargement of his imagination was due to a dirty habit he had of taking opium. I will confess that I am sceptical about the divinity of the drug; or the power of any drug to act like a god, and make a man other...
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SOURCE: "Coleridge: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, 1798," in Poetry and Its Background, Illustrated by Five Poems, 1470-1870, Chatto & Windus, 1970, pp. 66-86.
[In the following excerpt, Tillyard discusses how The Rime of the Ancient Mariner is characteristic of Romanticism generally, and particularly "of the diversity of the Ancient Mariner, of the multiple layers of meaning, of the different uses to which nature is put."]
First let me explain that I shall not try to criticise [The Rime of the Ancient Mariner] in the sense of conveying something of the total effect. It is a rich and complicated poem, and to put in words the total effect issuing from this complication would be at once surpassingly difficult and unnecessary for the humbler objects I have in view. All I seek to do is to enumerate some of the layers of significance that go to make up the whole.
First, it is an exciting story, imitated from the old ballads, drawing much of its material from old books of travel, enlivened by touches of realistic natural description, yet partly appealing to that side of our natures that delights in superstitions and in the supernatural. Secondly, in spite of the supernatural happenings, of which no rational explanation is given, the main events of the story happen logically in a sequence of cause and effect. In such a...
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SOURCE: "The Ancient Mariner" in The Romantic Imagination, 1949. Reprint by Oxford University Press, 1961, pp. 51-75.
[In the following essay, Bowra contends that The Rime of the Ancient Mariner "creates not a negative but a positive condition, a state of faith which is complete and satisfying because it is founded on realities in the living world and in the human heart."]
When the first signs of the Romantic spirit appeared in the eighteenth century, the time-worn theme of the supernatural took a new character and received a new prominence. The fashionable cult of strangeness turned inevitably to this alluring world of the unknown and exploited it with a reckless carelessness. The result is that ghosts and goblins crowd the Romantic poetry of Germany, and in England the spate of "Gothick" novels spent its none too abundant resources in trying to make the flesh creep with death-pale spectres and clanking chains. The result, it must be admitted, is not very impressive. Instead of creating real horror and dread, this literature tends to be factitious and a little silly. It fails because it has not mastered the lessons of the past on how the supernatural should be treated. Instead of making it a subordinate element in a wider scheme, as Homer and Shakespeare do, the writers concentrate on it to the exclusion of almost everything else, and this over-emphasis spoils a subject which is effective...
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SOURCE: "Christian Skepticism in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,'' in From Sensibility to Romanticism: Essays Presented to Frederick A. Pottle, edited by Frederick W. Hilles and Harold Bloom, Oxford University Press, 1965, pp. 439-52.
[In the following essay, Boulger interprets The Rime of the Ancient Mariner as a reaffirmation of faith in a natural order despite apparent chaos.]
For many years the essay of Robert Penn Warren on The Rime of the Ancient Mariner [i.e., "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner: a poem of pure imagination" (1946)] held wide acceptance. Warren pointed out that the two major functions of the poem were the creation of a sacramental universe by means of creative imagination and the operation within this universe of the Christian pattern of Fall and Redemption. The nature of both functions was inferred partially from outside sources, Biographia Literaria, "The Friend," and "Aids to Reflection," but also in the action of the poem itself there existed evidence for a certain kind of Imagination and for a Will which falls in a spontaneous uninitiated act. Some few inconsistencies in detail were pointed out in later criticism of Warren's analysis, but hardly enough to remove the impression that the reading was consistent, convincing and meaningful. Reopening the case seemed hardly justified. The appearance of Elliot B. Gose's essay "Coleridge...
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SOURCE: "Uncertain Hour: The Ancient Mariner's Destiny," in Masterful Images: English Poetry from Metaphysicals to Romantics, Barnes & Noble Books, 1976, pp. 175-92.
[In the following essay, Dyson and Lovelock explore the moral and epistemologica! questions evoked by The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.]
It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stop'st thou me?'
'It is' . . . Coleridge's poem starts from the present tense, active, and, as it turns out, irresistible; the tense of absorbed narrative and compulsive confession. It is as if the whole poem is here in embryo: narrative vividness, fixed and immediate; human encounter, intense yet trancelike; questions, asked in terror or nightmare, needing answers but getting none, for whatever 'answer' there is comes obliquely. It is as if the story comes loose from time, gravitating towards that somehow eternal quality which haunts all its parts—the dramatic violence of sudden storms and appearances, sudden actions. 'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye'—strange invocation, as if feared and hypnotic qualities could be somehow besought! From the start, there is curious double vision; everything is fated and necessary, everything startling and dreadful. Whether 'it is' an ancient Mariner, or an...
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SOURCE: "The Poem, the Gloss and the Critic: Discourse and Subjectivity in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" in Forum for Modern Language Studies, Vol. XXVI, No. 3, July, 1990, pp. 259-71.
[In the following essay, Davies claims that, contrary to the tendencies of most critics, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner cannot and need not be entirely unified and unambiguous.]
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, which has been studied with great enthusiasm and ingenuity by many critics as a moral poem—an imaginative adventure with a moral lesson—seems actually to provide incessant problems for these critics in its refusal to finally unify to a point where all the poem's elements serve one particular reading. From the beginning the poem posed difficulties for those who strove to find in it a coherent relation of the parts to the whole. Indeed, Wordsworth himself, in his notorious criticism of the poem included in the second edition of Lyrical Ballads (1800), commented that "the events having no necessary connection do not produce each other". Yet despite the fact that, according to Wordsworth's criticism, Coleridge had failed to unify and harmonize the poem as a romantic poet should, critics nevertheless have since tried to compensate for this failure by imposing interpretations on the poem which attempt to "explain" the relation of parts to whole. Robert Penn Warren's "A...
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SOURCE: "The Daemon as Lesbian Vampire: Coleridge," in Sexual Personae: Art and Decadence from Nefertiti to Emily Dickinson, Yale University Press, 1990, pp. 317-46.
[In the following essay, Paglia argues against strictly moral interpretations of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, and rather insists that in the poem, "Jehovah has been obliterated by the vampire mother who rises from the slime of nature."]
Literature's most influential male heroine is the protagonist of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Wordsworth was the first to notice the Mariner's passive suffering. In the 1800 edition of Lyrical Ballads, Wordsworth lists the "great defects" of the poem: "first, that the principal person has no distinct character .. . secondly, that he does not act, but is continually acted upon." Bloom speaks of the Mariner's "extraordinary passivity." Graham Hough equates the ship's motionlessness with "complete paralysis of the will." George Whalley goes further: "The Mariner's passivity is Coleridge's too." My reading of The Ancient Mariner makes this passivity the central psychological fact of the poem. I reject moral interpretations, typified by Robert Penn Warren's canonical essay. Edward E. Bostetter argues against Warren point by point: "The poem is the morbidly self-obsessed account of a man who through his act has become the center of universal attention." Two...
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Milton, Mary Lee Taylor. The Poetry of Samuel Taylor Coleridge: An Annotated Bibliography of Criticism, 1935-1970. New York: Garland Publishing, 1981, 251 p.
Includes an extended introduction which discusses major issues and trends in Coleridge criticism.
Raysor, Thomas M.; Schulz, Max F.; and Wellek, René. "Coleridge." In The English Romantic Poets: A Review of Research and Criticism, third revised edition, edited by Frank Jordan, pp. 135-258. New York: Modern Language Association of America, 1972.
Studies bibliographies and editions of Coleridge's notebooks, verse, and letters, including a section devoted to an overview of historical and literary criticism of Coleridge's poetry.
Bawer, Bruce. "Hungering for Eternity: Coleridge the Poet." The New Criterion 8, No. 8 (April 1990): 20-32.
Biographical essay on Coleridge's life and career.
Caine, Hall. Life of Samuel Taylor Coleridge. London: Walter Scott, 1887, 154 p.
Biographical study drawing on a variety of sources, including "table-talk, letters, diaries, memoirs, reminiscences, magazine articles, [and] newspaper reports."
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