Beyond the Verse - 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner': Navigating Troubled Waters with Coleridge

Episode Date: September 18, 2025

In this week’s episode of “Beyond the Verse,” the official podcast of PoemAnalysis.com and Poetry+, Maiya and Joe dive into Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s haunting masterpiece, ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’.They begin with Coleridge’s life and the birth of the Romantic movement, situating the poem within its 1798 publication in Lyrical Ballads. The hosts explore Coleridge’s radical youth, his bond with Wordsworth, and the wider cultural context of exploration, superstition, and shifting faith in the late eighteenth century.The discussion moves through the Mariner’s fateful journey: the killing of the albatross, the curse that follows, and the unsettling mix of Christian and pre-Christian imagery. Maiya and Joe consider how Coleridge plays with ballad form, rhyme, and rhythm, using sing-song quatrains to deliver some of the darkest content in English poetry. They unpack how the albatross becomes one of literature’s most enduring symbols, resonating across writers from Mary Shelley and Charles Baudelaire to Herman Melville, Robert Eggers, and even Taylor Swift.By the end, the episode weighs whether the Mariner’s tale is really a moral teaching or simply an endless cycle of guilt and retelling, a punishment that reflects both ancient myth and Coleridge’s own troubled mind.Get exclusive Poetry PDFs on Samuel Taylor Coleridge and his poetry, available to Poetry+ users:‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’ PDFs:PDF GuideQuiz PDFPoetry SnapshotPoem PrintablePoem Printable with MeterPoem Printable with Rhyme SchemePoem Printable with Both Meter and Rhyme SchemeSamuel TayloSend us a textSupport the showAs always, for the ultimate poetry experience, join Poetry+ and explore all things poetry at PoemAnalysis.com.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, the furrow followed free. We were the first that ever burst into that silent sea. Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropped down, to as sad as sad could be, and we did speak only to break the silence of the sea. All in the hot and copper sky, the birds. bloody sun at noon, right up above the mast did stand, no bigger than the moon. Day after day, day after day, we stuck, nor breath nor motion, as idle as a painted ship upon the painted sea, water, water everywhere, and all the boards did shrink, water,

everywhere, and not a drop to drink. Hello and welcome to Beyond the Verse, a poetry podcast brought to you by Poemanalysis.com Poetry Plus. Now we have a wonderful episode here today. I'm here with my co-host Joe. We're just a fantastic reading of the poem we're talking about, which is Samuel Taylor, Coolurages, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Now, this is a very special poem for very many reasons. Not only the fact is 625 lines long, so we've got a lot to dig into today, but we'll be talking about symbolism of the albatross in this poem, which has become a recurrent symbol throughout literary history now, punishment and redemption, and how Cooleridge subverts Ballard Orm.

Now, Joan, can you tell us a little bit about Coolidge, some dates that are important, and, you know, dates around this poem as well? Yeah, I'd love to. Samuel Taylor Cooridge was born in 1772 and lived until 1834, and many of our listeners, I'm sure, will be aware of him as one of the key members of the romantic movement. And actually, Maya and I have done episodes on several of the other romantic poets, William Wordsworth, John Keats, Percy Shelley, and others. So if any listeners want to go and check it, out those episodes after this one. I do encourage you to do so because it's always interesting to see different poets, different poems in their literary and historical context. But coming back

to Cooleridge, he was a young radical. So he attended Jesus College of Cambridge in the early 1790s where he was awarded the Brown Gold Medal for poetry, which is awarded to an undergraduate for an original poem. And he wrote a poem. It was an ode attacking the slave trade. So he was this young radical figure. We know that he was very interested in the French Revolution, for example, and perhaps we'll get on to later on about whether or not any of his early radicalism fades with the years. He also met the poet William Wordsworth, who I've mentioned, in 1795, and they formed a really close bond. And then we jump forward to the year 1798 key year for this poem, because that's when this was published as part of lyrical ballads, which is a really influential publication, which kind of becomes the manifesto for the entire romantic movement. So that's where we are in 1798.

The other major publication for Cooleridge comes in 1816 with the poem Kubla Khan, and as I mentioned, he died in 1834. Now, one thing that's really interesting about him as a poet and something that's very much come to light in the century since his death is his mental health, his mental faculties. Obviously, it's very difficult for modern scholars to look back and kind of retroactively diagnose people with certain diseases, but many scholars have speculated about whether or not Coolidge might have had a mental illness, whether he might suffer with bipolar disorder, for example. And it's always interesting for us looking back, analysing old poetry, to consider those things without going too much into them. But that's a little bit about Sammy Taylor-Coolridge. I'm sure we'll touch on some of those details as the episode goes on. That Maya, seven parts, over 600 lines. Do you mind giving our listeners a brief overview about the poem itself?

Absolutely. We'll try and keep it relatively short and sweet. As Joe said, there are seven parts in this poem. And they track a pretty consistent story. So as we open, part one introduces us to the figure of the ancient mariner. for those who aren't aware a marina is effectively a sailor and this sailor breaks into a wedding to warn the wedding guests and the bride and grill are kind of the dangers of this journey that he's been on. As we track through the following part, we get into part two where he sets out on his

voyage and he describes the things that happen, one of which is the most impactful, which is the killing of an albatross following this. There are many, many consequences. We go into part four where he details the fact that there's no water to drink, that his crew start to pass away, there's this real kind of dark energy that seems to follow him after this horrible app. And as we get into part six and part seven, Joe, you and I am sure we'll talk about it. He gets a sort of partial redemption, but not really a full sense of absolute happiness. Because of course, at the end of this poem, we return back to the scene of the wedding, where he's kind of giving this moral tale. And it's a really fascinating poem because obviously

it's framed by this wedding, but the story itself is something that is so. separate from. And Joe, that's actually the question I'd really like to start off with, which is, what impact does that have on this poem? Because of course, when we talk about the killing of the albatross, the death of the crew, this really horrible, arduous journey he goes on, it sits quite odd to really the joy of the wedding that's established in the first few stanzas. Well, I think it's a really good question. I think what that slightly abstracted view of the events does is it makes it easier for the reader to suspend their disbelief, to kind of accept the strangeness and the certainly surreal nature of events as they come.

And actually, suspension of disbelief is a phrase coined by Coolerich himself, the willingness of the reader to leave their rationale at the door and embrace the feeling, the strangeness, the eeriness of a literary text. And I think it's a device that we see played out in quite a lot of different literary texts. In fact, one of the things we might talk about later on is how the albatross and the kind of imagery of the edge of human rationale influences subsequent literary text. So I'm thinking now about the novel Frankenstein by one of Coolidge's contemporaries, of course, Mary Shelley, married to Percy Shelley, another one of the romantic poets, because that novel occupies a very, very similar kind of abstracted framing in the sense that most of that novel is

narrated to a sailor who is writing letters back to his sister. And that distance afforded to the reader, I think, makes it easier for us to picture these strange events without having to take them necessarily really at face value, we allow for licence on behalf of the storyteller because it's not being directly given to us, it's being mediated through a slightly more recognisable set of characters or events. But what do you think by? I think it's a really interesting one because part of me wants to say absolutely that's for sure what it does. But at the start of this poem, we actually have a kind of argument set out where we have the introduction. And I'll just read it for the benefit of listeners. It says, for a ship having passed the line was driven by storms to the

cold country towards the South Pole, and how from then she made her course to the tropical latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean and of the strange things that befell, and in what manner the ancient mariner came back to his own country. So you have this kind of setting of scene that seems almost more out of a play or out of a novel. So yes, on the one hand, we are able to view it through the lens of the bridegroom, but also on the other hand, You have this almost narratives arc that's set out by what seems like a nonfiction kind of intro. And I love the way that that really plays with your sense of belief. Because in my eyes, you know, entering this poem and almost believing that it's a true story really then sets you at an unease of sorts.

Because when these kind of horrendous things happen, I'm sure we'll go on to describing the supernatural elements in this poem. It really sits at odds to that intro. So I find it really interesting that, you know, Coolidge is framed as having this intention to, as you say, suspend your disbelief. But also, he's almost trying to suggest to the reader that maybe there is an element of truth to this. And that's constantly a place throughout this poem. I think you have a real back and forth between what to believe or not. And that does strengthen the poem in many ways. But it also, you know, gives me as a reader.

It makes me feel removed from it in the sense I just don't know where to pick up with this poem. I'm really glad you mentioned that argument at the start because it does frame the poem in a really strange manner, especially for modern readers. I think we have to zoom in on the dates here because this poem, of course, published 1798 for this incredible century of literary output and kind of a real precursor to the growth of the Gothic movement, the Gothic literature. and obviously Frankenstein, as I've said, written very, very shortly after this, just 15 or 16 years. I think the reason I'm interested in that is because this is an age of discovery, both in a literal sense in terms of traversing the planet, going to the poles,

and also in a scientific sense, new discoveries, new inventions. And the pace of change on a scientific and geographical manner is directly linked to the kind of preoccupations that artists are encountering. As mankind pushes the frontier of its knowledge, the thing that lies beyond the frontier could well be something supernatural, something mysterious, something gothic, something dark. And to begin this poem, ostensibly with a relatively factual, a relatively scientific framing around discovery going to the South Pole, calling it an argument, only to have gothic elements

strange supernatural elements populate the poem, I think is an interesting precursor of the century of literature that was to come. I mean, remember in the hundred years after this poem had published, You have Frankenstein, you have Dracula, you have Wuthering Heights, you have, of course, Edgall and Poe's the Raven that Myra and I've done an episode on, all of these poems and novels, which are exploring ultimately the liminal space between the rational world and the supernatural world. And that's exactly the world that Cooleridge is setting this poem in, literally ships that are going along places and routes that ships have not been before, because they couldn't travel to the poles, they couldn't travel through such harsh,

icy conditions. And I don't think it's a coincidence that we feel kind of wrong-footed by that, because it's exactly the edge of our knowledge that our ignorance begins. And that's where I think Cooleridge is looking to situate this poem. Moving beyond that opening argument, Meyer, maybe thinking something in part one, is there any way that you want to take listeners and explore? I'd actually really like to direct readers to kind of the middle few stanzas of part one. I'm just going to read them before I really jump into the analysis I want to get into here. So I'll be starting from stanza seven of part one, and it goes, The sun came up on the left, out of the sea came he,

And he shone bright and on the right went down into the sea. Fire and higher every day till over the matts at noon. The wedding guest here beat his breast, but he heard the loud bassoon. The bride have paced into the pool, red as a rose is she, nodding their heads before her goes, the merry minstrelsy. The wedding guest he beat his breast. rest, yet he cannot choose but here, and thus spake on that ancient man, bright-eyed mariner. And now the storm bass came, and he was tyrannous and strong, he struck with o'er-taking winds, and chased us saps along.

Now what I want to focus on here is the blending of the stories that we start to get here. We have been introduced to the mariner as, I think they refer to it in the poem, as a loom. He is someone that is not taken seriously at the start. But what we have here is the blending of the wedding scene with the start of the mariner's journey. And obviously, as you said, this already wrongful is the reader because you're not quite short of place and time. There isn't something comfortable about the way that this is brought in. Although, of course, there is a metre that is a little bit more sing-songy. This poem in the majority is written in a ballad form.

It's written in iambic tetrometer and trimeter and it kind of alternate between the two of those. And as you can tell from the way I read it, it's actually quite. easy to get into in the most part. Most of this poem, again, is written in quatrain. However, there are some standards that are five, six, certain lines long. What is worth noting, though, is that there is, again, a disjunction between the content of these stanzas and the form of these stanzas, because of course, we are used to at hearing a poetic voice that is taken from one place, or really no place at all. It's kind of an omnipresent sort of onniscient voice. But here you have the voice of the mariner who seems to be relating the story about the start of his journey

and yet also the internal feelings of the bridegroom. And I love how those characters mesh into one another because it's a really poignant comment on actually what this moral story is about because it's not just about a mariner, it's about humanity as a whole. And by taking this mariner who is a wildly different character to the bridegroom, someone who is at the happiest day of his life and impacting him with the mariner's feelings. You know, you have that repeated line, the wedding guest he beat on his breast, because he's so traumatised, he's so affected by what the mariner is saying. It really adds another layer of just discomfort into this poem. But what do you think about that intro, Joe? I think the thing that jumps out to me is the mariner

ultimately is defined by his isolation. As we're going to explore, he sets out with a crew and gradually through this decision he makes, this disastrous decision to kill the Albatross, he ends up alone and seemingly kind of alone for all time. That appears to be this punishment that's more reminiscent, I think, ancient Greek and Roman myth than it is of any kind of Christian tradition. It's not hell as such. It's more than being forced to wander alone. And I think by juxtaposing, but also conflating that with a wedding, which is the ultimate example of union, both a union of an individual couple, but also the union of two families. It's all about bringing people together, whereas as we know, as we're going to go on to explore, the example of the mariner is all about gradually losing

people along the way, shedding people until there is nothing left but you and your guilt at having lost those people. So I think that's a really interesting contrast. And if I could just go back to your point about the meter, because I think it's a really interesting one. Obviously, the sing-songy meter that you've mentioned, there's loads of internal rhyme in this poem, that alternating tetrameter to trimeter creates this sense of jolliness, this sense of ease. It's very easy to read. You say it's quite pleasant on the tongue. And this is a very common meter for kind of old folk ballads, old sailors' songs. And initially that seems incredibly appropriate because A, the wedding in theory at least is a joyful event. There's no reason that there should be melancholy songs, but also because we know that the Marano is a sailor himself.

So of course he would be familiar with this kind of ballad meter. By taking that sing-songy jolly rhythm and subvert its content by having this deeply unsettling, dark, surreal content in which people die. People are cursed. People are forced to wear dead birds around their neck. Cooleridge, I think, is firing a warning shot. And again, the warning, I suppose, and I do have to speculate here because it's not the most coherent moral tale in the world, is this is a warning against the limits of human exploration. The idea of going out on the sea, the romance of, you know, you don't know where you're going

to land. you don't know what you're going to find. Cooleridge is taking those positive associations, those connotations of excitement and discovery and emphasizing the emptiness that comes with them, the guilt, the suffering that can arise. And one thing I would like to focus on just before we move on from the form is this ABCB rhyme scheme that we get in the poem.

Because what we have there is we have on the one hand a kind of echoic callback, line four, calling back to line two. But it's not an alternating rhyme because lines one and three don't run. There is a kind of imbalance in the poem that I think reflects a fundamental kind of imbalance in this character. This voice is disturbed. This voice is confused.

This voice is incoherent. This voice is slightly off-kilter. And I love the way in which that imbalance of the rhyme scheme could reflect a narrative voice that is fundamentally off-piece. I think you're absolutely right, you know, that term the echo that goes between the lines. Because, again, one of the words that is so often used for this poem is that it is haunting. Not only are the characters haunted, but the content itself is haunting. It's a really dramatic and, you know, quite upsetting poem to actually sit with. So the fact that we consistently have these callbacks to lines that probably in themselves are impactful

means that you're, as a reader, your brain is actually consistently doing that callback. Your brain is consistently pulling you back to a few lines earlier. And again, you know, let's not forget that we're talking about a journey on the sea. there is that kind of rowing movement that is repetitive in some ways, but yet you are still moving forward through the poem. I think that's a really nice way that the journey itself is actually echoed in this poem. And I use the word echo very freely there because, of course, you have a formal kind of constraint of the poem directly reflecting the journey that it's talking about. And I think that's a really subtle way that we have an onward movement through

this poem. And there's definitely some things I want to say later about, you know, the direction of this poem and the kind of polarization of the north and south. But we can absolutely get onto that later. But for now, I think the most important thing we have to talk about is the figure of the albatross. Regular listeners will know they should strap themselves in at this point because a deep dive is on its way. So Maya and I often kind of talk about the resonance of certain poetic symbols. It could be the image of a river. It could be the image of a particular animal and how these symbols can have these rich poetic afterlies. I think there are very few examples we've ever touched upon that I have a greater poetic legacy and poetic afterlife than

the albatross from this poem. So first and foremost, let's go to the poem itself. This is a bird that this initially kind of interpreted as a good omen and seemingly inexplicably the mariner decides to kill it. And this appears, at least in the mariner's eyes, to be the cause of all of the terrible things that go on to happen. And as punishment, he has to wear the albatross, the dead bird around his neck, which has given voice to the phrase to wear an albatross around your neck in the English language, which means to kind of feel weighed down by guilt, by a decision that you've made. Now, this is calling to existing kind of tropes. I mean, the world of the mariners and of sea exploration is famous for its superstitions. Boats have to be named after

women, can't have a woman at sea, mustn't kill this bird, etc. To a very, very, very superstitious kind of world. And that makes sense because obviously when historically you were going out on the high seas, there is so much beyond your control. And the idea that you can buy yourself good fortune, even if only for morale, makes sense. You know, there are so many things that you can't influence the tides, the winds, disease, all kinds of things that are beyond your control or beyond your ability to understand in a kind of a less well-developed scientific world than the one we live in. But this poem goes far beyond just a vague superstition and establishes this bird as something really significant. And I'm curious because, like so many symbols that go on to have

great afterlides, it's slightly different to the way that it's portrayed in the poem itself. So, Maya and I were talking before this episode. And one of the things we keep sort of butting our heads against is how sensible and how useful any kind of moral teachings from this poem really are, because effectively what Crueleridge is saying is, once the mariner has made this terrible mistake, there is nothing to be done to fix it. There's no amount of repentance. There's no amount of guilt that will make the suffering end. The thing that subsequent authors I think have struck upon is the albatross as a warning against exploration in some places very explicitly. So I've mentioned Frankenstein earlier, and I think there's a really interesting

parallel between these two, not only because of the bird, but also because of the framing I talked about, you know, Frankenstein ostensibly is based around a journey to the polls, much like the journey taken by the mariner. However, partly because of the story narrated to Robert Walton, the sailor in Frankenstein, by Victor Frankenstein, he decides to turn back. He decides not to push on and explore. And actually, he mentions in that novel exactly the phrase, I shall kill no albatross. So clearly even only a decade or two decades later when Mary Shelley is writing Frankenstein, she is viewing. this albatross through the lens of exploration and the limits of human exploration. Where should we

stop? And again, it's so hard for us as modern readers to understand that mindset because so much of the earth now has been explored. I mean, the space, you know, our universe, our knowledge of the world around us is so vast that the idea of corners of the world that, you know, hadn't been mapped or certainly people in Europe perhaps believes they hadn't been mapped, seems. so bizarre to us, but there are loads and loads of literary echoes, sometimes very explicitly, like the one in Frankenstein, but

the poem is also referenced in Moby Dick, which is similarly a struggle between the edge of human power and the power of the natural world, which kind of surpasses us. It's a story of somebody desperate to kill this whale, and whether or not they are capable of doing that is right

at the end, and the insinuation is that the ability to kill the whale may just be beyond what is humanly possible. And it's that liminal space between the edge of what's possible and the vastness of what is impossible that the albatross seems to represent. There's a very, very famous poem by the French poet Charles Baudelaire called the albatross in which he explores the albatross through the lens of a poet weighed down, captured. And again, you have that sense of whether or not we should be attempting to shackle nature, to dominate nature, to explore and map nature. Again, Maya and I were talking before the episode. There were some very, very recent examples of this kind of imagery about not overstepping the mark,

not pushing too far beyond the limits of what we can control. I mean, there was a very, very popular Robert Eggers film, The Lighthouse in which all of the bad things come about because somebody kills a seabird. As recently as last year, I mean, probably the biggest artist on the planet Taylor Swift released a song called The Albatross, in which she compares herself to the Arbitross, kind of reeking punishment. on those who have done her wrong. So it's a really complex symbol, a really rich symbol

that in many ways is dislocated from the poem itself because I don't think that the poem offers a moral lesson that is as clear as the way in which it has subsequently been alluded to.

But the idea that you can have this image of a relatively obscure bird, I'm not sure I've ever seen an albatross, the idea that you can have a bird like that in a poem more than 200 years ago that has resonant

as recently as the last 12 months, the most famous songwriter alive, the last five years, one of the most impressive filmmakers working today, Robert Eggers. You've got poets in France. You've got the great novelist of the Gothic tradition, Mary Shelley. All of these people see something in this poem. And I think it's that strangeness about where the albatross resides and what it represents about what we know and what we fundamentally cannot and should not try to know. But Maya, hopefully that all makes sense. I hope the listeners understand what I'm talking about. But what do you think? Is there anything I've missed there? Is there anything you want to go back to? Well, I think that was a wonderful explainer. And what I think is actually

worth flagging is that, of course, in all of your explainer there, the one thing that we didn't talk about was faith. Because of course, when this albatross is initially introduced to us, it is described as almost a Christian soul, something godlike. I think that's what plays in specifically to the colour imagery that we get with this poem, because there is a lot of references in the first instances that the albatross kind of being brought into the fold of this very pure, very white, light, bright imagery. It's really quite striking against the fog. So, for example, you get the fog smoke white, the white moonshine, the glimmering, and yet then immediately get the shooting of the artros. So I really want to actually hammer in on colour here, because

of course, colour is very, very important when we talk about it being white. White is so often reference to something godlike, something pure, something clean, something almost a blank slate to be written upon. And what I think is fascinating is that later in the poem, we obviously have these iterations of things that are blood or red. You have the staining of that purity. So even though we are introduced to the albatross as something that is almost based in faith, in Christian faith specifically, we then don't really see much of a, this is because of God. this is because I've done something wrong and I'm being punished by God. It seems almost absolutely directed to the superstitions, to the albatross itself.

And I find it, again, a little bit jarring that we're kind of introduced to the mariner as someone who clearly has some level of the Christian faith, some level of understanding of what is pure, what is right, what is, you know, clear. And yet he acts so out of accordance with those natural laws. Because as Joe was saying, and I think he did a great job. putting together those pieces of how are we reaching the limits of those journeys? Should we be venturing past those boundaries? And here, I feel like it strikes a very natural boundary. There is an understanding in the Christian faith that, you know, all creatures are creatures of God.

It was all made by one God. And I find it, you know, as I say, jarring is absolutely the right word to use for it, because this mariner is someone who is laden with not only superstitions, but laden with faith-based understandings, and yet he still decides to do something so out of touch with that implied character. And again, this sets him apart. This makes him, from the outset, unreliable, untrustworthy narrator in many ways. And that absolutely changes our understanding of what the Albatross represents. For me, that purity is kind of skewed because of the way in which it's treated.

you, as a reader, I kind of led to wonder, okay, this albatross came in as a representation of purity and moral righteousness. And yet the murder of it has been seen and kind of extrapolated across a journey that makes you think that it's something more monstrous than it is. And that's the one thing I'd really like to focus on, those elements of monstrosity in this poem.

So much in there, Myon, I think that was brilliant. Just as you were talking, obviously the one connotation, I think that jumped out to me of whites that I don't think you mentioned, apologies if he did, is obviously it's a colour of marriage. And it again harked back to this wedding scene that frames the story. And I'm going to run with something here. Let me know if I'm onto something, but is there a way in which this union between man and albatross is wearing it around his neck, presumably with a piece of roke tied, is a kind of strange and twisted marriage?

He is kind of wed to this decision. And the thing that got me thinking about this is, you're right in this poem. We move from this white, this purity, this marital innocence to this blood red colour. And again, without wishing to get too much into this, obviously for a very, very long time, it was very, very important for brides to be virgins. And of course, that image of being blood red could invoke some kind of loss of innocence, again, particularly for people 200 years ago. And I wonder whether or not there is a relationship between the binary nature of those

decisions, that once the decision has been made to kill the alatross, to sleep with somebody, it is something that cannot be taken back. There is something fundamentally kind of irredeemable about that decision. And again, I'm not wishing to suggest that these are my moral qualms. I'm just trying to suggest that there is something arbitrary about that decision. And whether or not that move from white to red, that move from being unmarried to married or in the case of the mariner, having not killed the bird to killing the bird and being forced to wear it around your neck as a kind of twisted reminder of the choice that you've made, isn't part of an insight into the strangeness of this mariner's mindset, the idea that through the framing of this

wedding, he is himself reframing his own decision as a kind of twisted union. It's something that I hadn't thought of, actually, and I think you've done a great job of picking that out, and as you were speaking, it made me think about that standard that you mentioned right at the top of this episode, which was the fair breeze blue, the white foam flu, the furrow followed free, we were the first that ever burst into that silent seek. This idea that it is the first exploration, again, when you're talking about kind of the marital act, be the first person to take that kind of innocence. The really wonderful interplay between the marriage and those kind of archaic values and what the Albatross represents. And again, you know, I know we're one for

a deep dive, but again, the representation of that kind of circular nature of the Albatross around the neck like a wedding ring almost, kind of stands at odds to this more beautiful marriage that we're expecting. Actually, just something else occurred to me when you were talking about the opening of this poem being much more overtly rooted in Christian imagery. And I think as we go on, we do seemingly step away from that into a kind of a more pagan world, a more arbitrary world, a world in which there is less of a clear moral framework. And it made me think of something I was reading a piece recently, and this might seem like a strange connection by the wonderful 20th century novelist Chimara Chebe. And he was talking or writing, I should say, about the novel heart of darkness, this very, very famous novel that is very controversial and went on to inspire the film Apocalypse Now about a journey down the Congo River.

And one of the things that Chimoriabu was pointing out to really criticising about this novel was the way in which it presents a journey by a European down the Congo River as akin to going back in time. time to going back to something prehistoric, because Chimara Chabee, we viewed this is a deeply racist portrayal of the African continent. I wonder whether there's something about the journey taken by the mariner away from civilization, away from the world of Europe, the world that he recognises, that feels as though he's going back in time. And that's why the Christian framework of the opening of the poem kind of fades away and gives way to something that feels to me noticeably pre-Christian.

What do you think about that? you're absolutely right there's absolutely something to be said about direction in this poem and of course as we start the poem we'll introduce this idea that he's heading towards the south pole but as you will notice at the start of part two you actually have a change in direction just to keep it very top line for listeners part two starts by saying the sun now rose upon the right out of the sea came he now if you're in the southern hemisphere and in our rise you know we're heading towards the south pole or assuming he's in the southern hemisphere and the sun rises on your right, you're actually facing north.

So between part one and part two, we've actually had a change in direction. So what impact does that have on the poem? Not only do we have a change in physical direction, at New Sager, I think we have a change in temporal direction as well. I don't think that we're heading into the future anymore. I think we are being driven back into the past. We're being driven into something that unlike the past, which is known, This is actually a past that is unknown.

This is something that is scary and, you know, the words hellish and wretched are used. So this is a past that is different to the past that they came from. And I think that again speaks to this idea that journeying too far, being too ambitious, is something to be warned against because the past that you return to, the home that you return to, might be so incredibly different from the home that you left. Now, whether you're a first-time listeners to be on the verse or whether you've been here for all of our episodes to date, the best way to continue your journey into understanding poetry

is to sign up for a Poetry Plus membership at Permanalysis.com. There are numerous member benefits, including a weekly newsletter, access to exclusive PDFs, including over 300 in our PDF learning library, expert help and many more benefits beside. So sign up now for a Poetri Plus membership at Permanalysis.com. So I mentioned a few times about how, as the poem progresses, we have this sense of kind of entering a pre-Christian world. And for me, I think the nature of the punishment afforded to the mariner is a really interesting insight into what I'm talking about here, because obviously the Christian tradition allows the punishment, the concept of hell exists, but it's a fairly singular idea. It's not specific. Whereas in the case of these ancient Greek.

in ancient Roman myth, you have this poetic sense that the punishment fits the crime. And we have that here because holding the albatross obviously is this great crime seemingly against nature because of this exploration that the mariner is on. When we look at the punishment, I want to just refer to some of those lines that I read right at the beginning of the episode, because Cooleridge describes how there is water, water, everywhere, and all the boards did shrink, water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink. and this really brings to mind for me the story of tantalus in the ancient Greek canon and tantalus is where we get the modern word tantalizing from

and tantalus effectively was a Greek mythic figure who stole Ambrosia the food and drink of the gods and then tried to trick them into eating his own sons he killed his sons and tried to feed them to the gods and his punishment is that he is forced to stand in a cool of water or swim in a pool of water but he can never drink it and there's a fruit tree and whenever he reaches for the the fruit, the branch recedes to remain just out of his reach. And of course, that's why we get the word tantalizing from his name. And again, the poetic justice there is that his crime is a crime of excess. It's a crime of too much indulgence trying to steal the food and drink of the gods. And his punishment is to be denied that excess. Well, there's something very clearly

that we get about that here. The mariner is punished almost for going beyond, for the boundary repushing nature of the decision to kill the albatross and this expiration we've talked about. And his punishment is to be surrounded by the thing that he's traversing, but never able to truly enjoy it. He's surrounded by water and yet remains parched and thirsty. And of course, there is a suggestion that he is made immortal, that his punishment is to wander forever repeating this story. And again, what better punishment for somebody who explores too far than to never let them stop exploring? To make the thing that they did, the thing that they did, the thing they have to do forever and transform it from something that they wanted to do into

something they are forced to do forever. And that's what I mean when I talk about moving away from a Christian framework to this kind of three Christian ancient world in which morality appears very different. See, that's a really great idea and actually something I hadn't considered as much before because I, you know, when I read this poem, the one kind of section that I consistently get hung up on And, you know, this is very much me as a reader getting way too focused on this section is in part four, I believe, where we come to learn that the members of his crew are dying. And what always sits really odds with me is the fact that we open part four with the mariner actually having a good night's sleep for the first time in a while. It says, oh, sleep, it is a gentle thing beloved from pole to pole. And you have this idea that he's had a great night's sleep, his soul feels resting.

And yet when he comes up onto the deck, he finds out kind of very slowly that his crew are perishing one by one. And I always get stuck on this idea that punishment is being dealt to people who are absolutely innocent in the crime of the mariner. He is not actively suffering by seeing the death of this crime because, you know, the way he talks about that he doesn't seem incredibly close to them. Yes, it is trawitizing, of course, to be on this journey and lose people. but he doesn't really recollect them in the sense that he's speaking to a bridegroom and saying, these were my loved ones, these were my friends, they just happened to be the crew that he was with. So I always get stuck on that and think, how is it just that these people to be the ones who are punished, for these people to lose their lives over the crime or over the crime against nature that the mariner himself committed?

Actually, with the framing that you're suggesting there is I think exactly the point. I think part of the exploration we have here is that the mariner somehow, manages to find moments of solace throughout this. And every time he thinks he might be okay, something even worse than before happens. And again, even when he gets to dry land, he's forced to repeat this story. He cannot escape it. And one of the wonderful things about his poem is how it deals with scale. You know, of course we've talked about the fact it deals with temporal scale, but also it deals with the physical space of the sea is the most expansive space in the entire world. And yet, we are made to feel so incredibly enclosed by the story of this

marion because you have the deck of the ship. You have this sense that the world is closing in around him these huge waves, the sky, the fog. There is a heaviness to the poem that you can't get out of. And it's just a really amazing way to play with space because of course the sea should represent exploration. It should represent movement forward. And yet we're constantly weighed down by this singular act, by the consequences of that act. And I just find that that sense of punishment keeps rearing its head again and again. And, you know, in some ways, maybe that is the point of setting this where Coolidge sets it. Maybe the point of setting it in the sea is that it constantly recycles those emotions, those elements. It constantly keeps those

stories in flux. My, that was brilliant. I think I was really, really interesting. And I can't help But notice the parallel between that moment in which the mariner wakes from his sleep to meet disaster and the story of the Odyssey in which Odysseus, having visited the God of the Winds Aeolus on his long journey home from Troy, is given a bag containing all of the winds of the world, ensuring that his remaining voyage will be smooth without these stormy winds. And he stays up for days and days and nights and nights because he doesn't trust any of his men. And just when land is in sight almost, he collapses and falls asleep out of exhaust. only for his men to think that he's actually got these gold and jewels in this sack that he's keeping from them. They open the bag and they're completely blown off course. They're blown away from home

and the process begins again and Odysseus has to get home all over again, which takes many, many more years. Now, again, we have a parallel here between the moment the mariner is asleep, the moment Odysseus is asleep. He wakes up and disaster has struck. In the case of Odysseus, the men have opened the sack. In the case of the mariner, the crew have started to die. One of the really interesting differences, though, is how for Odysseus, this error falling asleep at the wrong time doesn't prove to be a fatal one. It does for the others, for the crew, but Odysseus is able to find redemption and is able to eventually get home. And yes, he suffers trials and tribulations, and he makes a great many mistakes along the way. None of them are fatal mistakes. None of

them fundamentally change the outcome. They only delay it. In the case of the mariner, we get the sense that the moment he shoots the albatross, there is nothing he can do to fix it. And I wonder, Maya, maybe we can end by thinking about this question of if there is a moral teaching here, I can't quite work it out because it seems to be don't make mistakes because once you do, there's nothing to be done. And that seems like a fundamentally high risk take away from the poem, but also it strikes me as being slightly non-Christian because it speaks to the impossibility of forgiveness. And that kind of is a key part of the Christian faith. And what do you think? What is the moral, if anything, of this poem?

It's such a hard question, because you're absolutely right. I really can't quite pinpoint what the message actually is, what the moral of the story is. And of course, because this is framed as a moral teaching, as a moral lesson to this wedding party, you spend a lot of time searching for it. And actually, as you were speaking there, I kind of thought maybe that is the point. Maybe the point is that it's framed as a lesson, but it actually isn't one. It is simply a story of a journey gone horribly wrong. and the impact and the, you know, the lifelong impression that that has left on this mariner.

And actually maybe the focus is less about the moral teaching of all of humanity for this wedding party, for individuals moving forward, but more of a commentary on the guilt of individuals in the face of wider sort of teachings. Because as you say, it's not a Christian framework that's really set up here. It's definitely something more kind of vengeful in a sense, you know, killing of the albatross gets off a course of events that actively designed to traumatize the marina that actively designed make him feel as if his life is ending and yet to be the only one to survive is really the worst part of it all. So his journey becoming this traveling warning I think actually may be the intention of this poem. And I never saw it before actually having this

conversation with you, but the framing of the wedding and the kind of positivity that's brought in there, I think it sets the mariner's character against the character of this wedding party and the joy that they should be feeling. And, you know, it's not even specified at any point that they are sailors who might at any point go on a journey like this. And yes, of course, we've talked about a relationship between the kind of bride and the groom and the relationship between the mariner and the albatross. Is it perhaps that the mariner is placing his own guilt on other people for no other reason other than. his own guilt and trauma. Without doubt, there is a version of this poem in which the mariner's rememberings, the mariner's ramblings are all a projection of internalised guilt.

It is kind of the manifestation of internal feelings. And perhaps actually, if there is this lesson about whether or not we can view this permanent Christian framework, is that forgiveness is possible, redemption is possible. But you have to forgive yourself first, and perhaps a mariner hasn't done that. And so if you can't forgive himself, how can the world forgive you? and without wishing to kind of make that sound too much like an Instagram caption. You know, perhaps there is something about that. I mean, like we said, Cooleridge was a troubled, troubled man who had bouts of very severe

depression. You know, modern scholars have speculated whether or not he might have suffered with bipolar disorder. He had an opium addiction. And there is something of the innermost self-loathing about some of the way the mariner views himself and his actions, which perhaps speaks to the fact that until he is able to reconcile what he's done. Nobody else will ever be able to forgive him because ultimately it's meaningless

unless he can view it himself. And there is something a little Shakespearean about this kind of particular ending to the poem. I'm looking at the end of part six kind of through to the start of part seven. You get this line where the mariner says that this kind of hermit, this godly figure is going to wash the albatross's blood off of him.

And yet we know for a fact that even though the albatross is no longer around his neck, even though that blood is no longer on his hands, like Lady Macbeth, like Macbeth, the murders that they commit become kind of bloodstains on the soul, on the person. You know, I'm sure many people, no matter how many times, and as I'm sure many of our listeners will know, you wash your hands physically if you feel guilty about something. That's a mental thing. It's absolutely not a physical thing.

You can get rid of the blood, but it still sits there. And that's what drives, you know, characters like Macbeth, like Lady Macbeth, crazy. It's what drives them to their inevitable ends. And this is what I think Cooleridge is doing here is making that mariner figure someone who goes through those stages of guilt and grief. And yet he shows that no matter what stage he gets to, the only thing that matters is the individual kind of mental health of that character. It's the individual feeling of guilt or regret or horror or trauma or whatever you want to call it. So that false hope in many ways, that, you know, you will be absolved of all sin because you have ended your journey is really

not the case at all. And I think that's quite a harrowing thing to sit with as you exit this poem. Just as we sum up this episode, I think the thing I would really stress to listeners is the richness of this poem in the literary tapestry. I mean, how many other literary texts we mentioned in today's episode, including many that we've done episodes on ourselves. Of course, you know, when I was first planning, we plan, you know, material separately before we do these episodes, Maya and I, and then we come together to discuss. Of course, I was expecting to talk about the relationship with the other romantic poets, and we've done episodes I mentioned on Wordsworth and Shelley and Keeps, and I'm sure we'll get to Lord Byron eventually, and that'll be

a lot of fun when we do get there. But, you know, we've gone right back to Homer's Odyssey. We've come as recently as filmmakers in the 21st century Taylor Swift. I mean, if anybody is interested in knowing more about her literary connections, go and check out the episode we did with Chris Lee Frederick Docket, a really interesting episode about the intersection between popular song and literature. You know, we've talked about Moby Dick and Wuthering Heights and Frankenstein and Bordelaire. And I think that as we kind of build out our catalogue of episode to be on the verse, and I hope if this is your first time or whether you've listened to every episode already, we're delighted to have you. Remember that the same thing that

happens in the world of the podcast, which is that different episodes, interact with one and other intersect. That is happening a thousand times in the literary world as a whole, where poets, writers, songwriters, filmmakers, dramatists are all in dialogue with one another constantly, whether they're deliberately inspired, consciously trying to avoid similarities with somebody. It's such a rich tapestry. And I think this episode really demonstrates that more than most. Well, unfortunately, that's all we have time for today. And I'm sure maybe at some point in the future we'll do another episode on this poem because there is so much to dig into.

I would hugely recommend any listener to go and read the poem. It is absolutely full of kind of literary illusions, further metaphors. And I mean, it is a really, really long piece of work. So definitely take your time with it. But unfortunately, like I say, that is all we have time for today. Next episode, we'll be talking about Langston Hughes. I for one cannot wait. But for now, it's goodbye from me.

And goodbye from me and the whole team at Permanalysis.com and Purcha Plus. Thank you. Thank you.