The Spiritual Aesthetic of Samuel Coleridge's The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

In the beginning of Coleridge's "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" readers are presented with an introductory statement regarding the metaphysical world. This preface, which discusses the multiple levels of existence, not only grounds the readers in their own private universes, it frames the spiritually superstitious paradigm that has become timeless. By establishing this perspective (and quoting theologian Thomas Burnet), Coleridge is able to draw out multiple themes that lie within the duality of the metaphysical realm with insightful respect toward that which is "the truth;" by "avoiding extremes…we may distinguish certain from uncertain" (preface). The preface of "The Rime" does just that-grounds spiritual truisms through objectivity.

Although the preface mentions the avoidance of extremes, Coleridge's devout upbringing stands out boldly throughout the poem. Yet it is a religious quality that is enforced by the debauched lifestyle that the author suffered through not long before he wrote the poem-a suffering that brings revival. Much like the Mariner, he is a dynamic being that must tell his story in hopes of delivering himself and those he's addressed into a new realm of understanding.

So when the Mariner approaches a young wedding guest on the way to gorge himself at a wedding feast in part I of "The Rime," it is with a supernatural capability that he is able to spellbind the young, rambunctious man and, thus, preach to him. He tells him of the expedition to the South Pole that turned grim upon his killing of an Albatross. By the Mariner's description of the albatross, "As if it had been a Christian soul,/ We hailed it in God's name" it is clear why-the mariner committed not only the Christian sin of murder but the superstitious sin of killing a mythological seagull (I, ll. 65-66). The Mariner's shipmates had tried to reason with him but he is beyond redemption, in terms of religion and superstition: "God save thee, ancient Mariner!/ From the fiends, that plague thee thus!" [emphasis added (I, ll. 79-81).] Clearly the Mariner, with his lack of comprehension and/or appreciation for life, is in dire need of redemption.

However, he must first suffer through tribulation. He and the sailors upon his ship are forced to endure the agony of intense dehydration when their ship is held stagnant by the sea-bound spirit of the South Pole. Coleridge acknowledges this spirit as one of many in the footnotes, "A Spirit had followed them; one of the invisible inhabitants of this planet, neither departed souls nor angels…They are very numerous and there is no climate or element without one or more." (II, ll. 131-134). Therefore, this spirit is an element of the physical realm (i.e., it is earthbound) and it is not alone. As the sailors must suffer, so the Mariner must bare the shame of his sin: "Instead of the cross, the Albatross/ About my neck was hung." (II, ll. 141-142). There is significant juxtaposition here, whereas the ship is held by the spirit it is also marked by God-and the mariner is forced to bear that mark.

After a long time of dehydration, a ghastly ship appears and glides toward them. It's inhabitants: bringers of death. They take hold of the souls of the sailors whom die one by one, each cursing the Mariner. Coleridge has assured his readers, however, that the sailors are not entirely lost-nor is the Mariner-for they have all drank blood (a symbol of Christian Communion) prior to the death-ship's arrival. The death ship is a Godsend and, as Coleridge had intended, a symbol of spiritual hierarchy amongst the realms.

Yet this does not prove to be a means for reconciliation. Rather, when the voyage's last survivor, the Mariner, attempts to pray for escape "A wicked whisper [comes], and [makes]/ [his] heart as dry as dust." (IV, ll. 246-247). The Mariner has still not proven himself-the Albatross is not avenged and his contempt for life is still present and made obvious by his reference to sea life as "a thousand thousand slimy things" (IV, ll. 238).

It takes him a week of trying to die to realize the true beauty of Earth and its spirits within. Finally, he is ready to redeem himself-in both his own eyes and those of the differing Spirits that hold him captive. With a great revelation, he is relieved of the weight of the Albatross around his neck; his trial is over… for now. He is ecstatic and he acknowledges the presence(s) beneath the boat with new appreciation-he is thankful for both the creatures and spirits surrounding him.

The Mariner is decidedly quenched with plentiful rains and allowed passage. His dead shipmates are also allowed passage-with their bodies reanimated and their souls returned they assist the Mariner in sailing to the equator in a zombie-like stupor that is surprisingly harmonious. Like the rains that poured down from the Heavens, their souls make angelic sounds while coming down from the sun to the ship.

Now that the ship is quickly approaching the equator, the Mariner must face a new trial. The Spirit of the South communicates to the Polar Spirit that it still requires vengeance and the Polar Spirit concurs-"The man hath penance done,/ And penance more will do." (V, ll. 408-409). Whereas the Southern hemisphere's penance was attributed to avenging the Mariner's killing the Albatross, an earthbound spirit cloaked in superstition, the Northern hemisphere's penance will be attributed to avenging the deaths of his shipmates.

The ship's speed picks up to a supernatural speed, raising the Mariner into a spiritual trance and, literally, into the Heavens above. When he awakens, the ship is back in the water and its dead sailors have transformed into enlightened spirits whom remind him of their curse with their conglomerated gaze-the spell is "snapped," although the Mariner must take it upon is own good will to carry the weight of this gaze, as well as his crime against the Albatross (VI, l. 442). Once again, the Mariner has a revelation as he gazes into the sea with yet another newfound appreciation, comparing it to:

Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread. (VI, ll. 446-451).

As the ship slowly glides through the water, the Mariner revels in the affinity of the moon in the Heavens beaming down upon the church of his native country's harbor; it is truly a unity of heaven and earth. To better illustrate this, Coleridge chooses this as the time for the dead sailors' souls to drift silently unto true salvation.

The Mariner, however, must rely on one more character of the sea before he might be revered. In an ironic twist, the ship's last survivor must be rescued by a Hermit-both physically and spiritually. As the ship sinks, the Mariner is sought out by a woodland abbot of sorts who prays for him, relieves him of his sin, listens to his confessional tale, and, in an act that intermediates the spiritual realms of earth and heaven, "He'll shrieve [his] soul, he'll wash away/ The Albatross's blood." (VI, ll. 512-513).

Now that his tale is complete, the Wedding Guest is let loose from the Mariner's gaze, left to sit and catechize the old man's moral:

O sweeter than the marriage feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company!
To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends
And youths and maidens gay! (VII, ll. 601-609)

"The truth" is that life is best lived with a balance of both spiritual and earthly delights-and we all must pass on this message through our lives' tales.