Coleridge and The Supernatural
Coleridge and The Supernatural
Coleridge and The Supernatural
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My point
in aof
notedeparture is Coleridge's
on Hooker's Laws of Ecclesiastical use
Polity.ofHooker
the offers,
term supernatural
as a reasonable ground in which to root faith, the idea that the desire for
happiness is natural in man: "Now if men had not naturally this desire
to be happy, how were it possible that all men should have it? All men
have. Therefore this desire is natural."1 Unlike the desire for Christian
blessedness (which some men have and most do not, at least by that
name), the general desire for happiness is not determined by an exposure
to a specific culture or dispensation. Natural, for Hooker, means "per
taining to human nature generally," whereas supernatural means "per
taining to God's Christian dispensation." Hooker thus happily proceeds
on natural ground, in the footsteps of Aristotle rather than Aquinas,
when he delineates three forms of desire:
Introducing the term supernatural into his definition of this third form
of desire, Hooker does not mean that it takes supernatural means to
make us tend to the divine; rather, supernatural means (the Christian
gospel) are vouchsafed to us on earth to aid us in the pursuit of a natural
desire that cannot be satisfied on this earth. The desire for spiritual
satisfaction becomes itself religious; but the desire begins in nature, in
common human nature, and Hooker ends the paragraph by returning
us to the principle that the third and highest form of desire is, no less
than the first two, the offspring of mother nature: "So that Nature even
in this life doth plainly claim and call for a more divine perfection than
either of these two [desires] that have been mentioned."
i. The Works of Mr. Richard Hooker, ed. John Keble (1862; rep. New York: Burt
Franklin, 1970), 1, 256. Subsequent citations are from the same paragraph, i.xi.4.
123
2. Notes on Hooker, from Literary Remains, in The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor
Coleridge, ed. Shedd (New York: Harper & Bros., 1876), v, 39. The quotation from John
is a favorite with Coleridge, and it reappears throughout the notebooks and marginalia.
See, for example, the entry of 13 December 1827 (entry 15 of Notebook 36) and entry 50
of Notebook 37?both to appear in The Collected Notebooks of Samuel Taylor Coleridge,
vol. 5, ed. Merton Christensen and Kathleen Coburn (Princeton: Princeton U. Press). I
am very much indebted to Professor Christensen for allowing me to see the typescripts
for Volumes 4 and 5 before their publication. The Collected Notebooks is abbreviated
henceforth as CN.
3. Kant's Vernunft actually represents one of two streams flowing into the Coleridgean
river here. The other is a native English one, and is traceable to Bacon (who saw
imagination as messenger between sense and reason) or Spenser (who, in Book n of The
Faerie Queene, distinguished the fort of reason from the rather limited space presided over
by Phantastes, personification not of imagination but of the image-making faculty).
Though the distinction between Reason and the Understanding is Kant's (and it is for the
Kantian Reason that I reserve the capital letter), the assimilation of German idealism and
English Protestantism is Coleridge's own. Hooker, Bacon, and Spenser regarded the
reason as a natural faculty; when Coleridge "super-naturalizes" it, Reason and imagination
are identified with what Protestantism acknowledged as the inner light. See the discussion
of "the light that lighteth every man" below.
4. The Collected Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge: Number 12, Marginalia, vol. 1, ed.
George Whalley (Princeton: Princeton U. Press, 1980), p. 462. The Collected Works is
abbreviated henceforth as CW.
5. At least at one point Coleridge called the imagination an oscillation "connecting
Reason and Understanding" (See Coleridge on'the Seventeenth Century, ed. Roberta F.
Brinkley [Durham, N.C.: Duke U. Press, 1955], p. 694). And in Marginalia, George
Whalley identifies imagination as the medium Coleridge intends between Reason and
Understanding (p. 70, n. 27). Perhaps the best way to understand how imagination can
be the medium between the supernatural and natural faculties and also be entitled to be
called itself supernatural is to compare the second?or better (since it involves synecdoche
rather than comparison)?the third person of the Trinity. Imagination, the Son and the
Holy Ghost are sometimes apprehended as mediators, at other times taken to be at one
with the higher term.
6. The relation between imagination and image-making faculty, a relation so curiously
elided in Biographia Literaria, is a plaything ofthe Renaissance. The best statement I know
about the confusion between the two faculties is by John Guillory: "Obviously mental
image-making is not the essence of poetry, and it may not even be a very important part.
Poets give us words, not images. That poets cling to this trope indicates a desire for
continuity with an archaic poetic self, the vatic figure who really saw the thing he wrote
about; and this desire coexists with a contradictory "Satanic" impulse to ground the poem
wholly in the self, to deny an origin that is prior or other" {Poetic Authority: Spenser,
Milton, and Literary History [Yale U. Diss., 1979], p. 253).
Distinguishing between imagination and the image-making faculty, Coleridge would,
I believe, have identified both the primary and secondary imagination as manifestations
of the supernatural, the God-in-man. Though there is significant variation among the
individual interpretations of primary imagination, I think we can distinguish three basic
positions. The first, propounded by Shawcross and I. A. Richards, and more recently
defended by McFarland and Barfield, identifies primary imagination with the image
making faculty or with an unconscious faculty closely allied to it. The second position
also sees imagination as involved in ordinary perception, and might be called the philo
sophical or phenomenological one. In The Romantic Will (New Haven: Yale U. Press,
J976), pp. 20-23, Michael G. Cooke elaborates a metaphysics of ordinary perception that
allows him to hold on to both halves of the definition of primary imagination. Other
interpreters of the phenomenology of ordinary perception include Walter Jackson Bate
("Coleridge on the Function of Art," in Perspectives of Criticism, ed. Harry Levin [Cam
bridge: Harvard U. Press, 1950], pp. 141-47), and J. R. de J. Jackson, in Method and
Imagination in Coleridge's Criticism (Cambridge: Harvard U. Press, 1969), p. 112. My own
position could be called a third (rather than simply an extension of the second) because I
see primary imagination involved in the religious sense of the unity of things rather than
the philosophical category ofthe universals. My closest precursor is, I believe, J. B. Beer,
who sees the primary imagination "at one with reason," and equates its kind of "percep
tion" with the imaginative mode of Kubla Khan, the maker in the first verse paragraph
of Coleridge's poem (Coleridge the Visionary [London: Chatto & Windus, 1959], pp. 170,
248-49).
7. Many discussions ofthe definitions treat "prime Agent of all human Perception" as
though the word human were not there and perception meant ordinary seeing, a faculty
man shares with the brutes. But compare this passage from "On Poesy or Art": "As soon
as the human mind is intelligibly addressed by an outward image exclusively of articulate
speech, so soon does art commence. But please to observe that I have laid particular stress
on the words 'human mind,'?meaning to exclude thereby all results common to man
and all other sentient creatures, and consequently confining myself to the ef
by the congruity of the animal impression with the reflective powers of the
not the thing presented, but that which is re-presented by the thing, shal
of the pleasure. In this sense nature itself is to a religious observer th
(Biographia Literaria, by S. T. Coleridge, ed. with His Aesthetical Essays by
[London: Oxford U. Press, 1907], 11, 254).
8. CN 4.4523.
9. Notes on Donne, in Shedd, v, 103.
10. "My kingdom is not of this World" is capable of two interpretations. If "the world
be [of this age], it is rather favorable than otherwise to the Millenarian Scheme, as set
forth by Lacunza, & my zealous friend, the Rev. E. Irving?but if it mean spiritual?i.e.
subjective, as opposed to temporal, visible, objective, it in this case overthrows the
Scheme" (Entry 15 of Notebook 35, to be published in CN 5).
Its zeal for the sublime is religious zeal, not to be reduced to pheno
menology or psychology, and its semiologies?its dramatic portrayals
of excesses on the planes of signifier or signified?are variations on the
metonymy par excellence, the Son as nom-du-pere, His name's sake.11
Coleridge's promised essay on the supernatural, in which the "powers
and privileges of the imagination" are further declared, was not prom
ised in vain after the definitions of primary and secondary imagination;
the essay was written about the privileged, "reformed" meaning of
supernatural, and it was already written in The Rime, in every poetic
exercise of the Holy Spirit or Reason in its secondary manifestation as
poetic power. Coleridge's distinction between the Reason and the Un
derstanding, his labeling the Reason supernatural, lead thus not to Ger
many but to Jerusalem, or back through Germany to Jerusalem. The
goal is not idealism but God, not Plato but Paul, not Kant but Emmanuel,
the Lord is with us.12 Idealism, like John the Baptist, "was not that
light, but was sent to bear witness of that Light. That was the true
Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world" (John
1:8-9).
With this metaphor, we must return to Coleridge's note to Hooker
and admire a very beautiful and characteristic maneuver. Hooker is
talking about a desire all men know regardless of whether they are
vouchsafed the Christian means to the satisfaction of this desire: "Nature
even in this life doth plainly claim and call for a more divine perfec
tion. ..." To this Coleridge objects that the faculty that claims and
calls for a more divine perfection is itself divine. But observe what
happens as he pauses before denominating the desire Reason and calling
it supernatural. At this point of uncertainty, a "top of speculation" that
begins as a semantic uncertainty and becomes an either/or moment of
faith, Coleridge queries: "if it mean the light that lighteth every man
ii. Marginalia, p. 428. Coleridge makes sense ofthe familiar Biblicism "for His name's
sake" by identifying His name's sake as Christ's sake. Christ is both the nomen (the
particular name or named person) and the Numen (spirit or Power) "to which he had
from everlasting communicated his own deity." See also entry 69 of Notebook 36, to be
published in CN 5.
12. The terms of such discourse necessarily create strange bedfellows, but against the
formidable Kantians, Rene Wellek and Thomas Weiskel (in The Romantic Sublime: Studies
in the Structure and Psychology of Transcendence [Baltimore: Johns Hopkins U. Press, 1976]),
I would pit the various works of Thomas McFarland and Geoffrey Hartman. Multifarious
as it is, all of Hartman's work may be said to be ultimately Jerusalem oriented, and
McFarland's monumental Coleridge and the Pantheist Tradition singles out Kant (as opposed
to the pantheists that go back to Lessing and Spinoza and forward to the "neo-Kantians"
Fichte, Schelling, Hegel, and Schopenhauer) as the one true idealist through whom Col
eridge returns to the eternal "I am" and Christianity.
that cometh unto the world." Does Hooker mean that? Inso
phrase Coleridge quotes refers, without special dispensation
man, the answer is yes, that is a decent paraphrase; Hooker
nature human nature at its highest, antecedent to or exclusiv
of Christ. But Coleridge's paraphrase is no neutral one. The
lighteth every man that cometh unto the world is Chri
answering Milton in the great sonnet on his blindness, Cole
prevent that murmur"?the murmur of desire thwarted in
nature, of Understanding, of purely sensory perceptions?loc
there, already there, in the mind of man. The desire for a m
perfection is the kingdom of God within man, whether
knows it through the historically vouchsafed doctrine of Ch
Carried to its Blakean extreme, the substitution of "the li
lighteth every man" for "nature" denies the churchly under
a historically vouchsafed Christian dispensation. And this f
does not go.13 His next sentence in the note returns us to h
historical Christianity, albeit in a manner I find a bit ob
that reason in man must have been first actuated by a direc
from God, I have myself proved. ..." Perhaps he means by t
the principle he articulated elsewhere that there are in natur
(everything in nature is traceable to something else in natur
the first motion of Reason, as the supernatural faculty, mu
a direct revelation; perhaps he simply "proved" revelation to
having decided to grant it historical authenticity in order to
freely for the independence of faith from miraculous inte
Whatever the origin of the thought of this proof, I susp
intends this statement of self-assurance of his orthodoxy as
his more general claim about the supernaturalism of Re
following note on Hooker he laments the general confoundin
with the Understanding:
13- Throughout this study I ignore the change in Coleridge from Unita
tarian beliefs, and treat Coleridge the poet as though he were always of th
party without knowing it. To hold that the Logos is "communicative and
intellect, in God and Man" (letter of September 25, 1816) is to hold a view
denomination. I realize the risk in this, but the fact is that Coleridge's
allegoric in the sense Blake's could be said to be, and so one must see h
symbolist?though not necessarily Church of England Trinitarian?all alo
incarnate in particular poems negotiates the crossings between pantheistic
moral tropes; but Coleridge's intellectual history does not negotiate such
date.
14. "He customarily presents us with completed opinions based on unexpressed argu
ments" (McFarland, Coleridge and the Pantheist Tradition, p. 236).
Miracles must be judged by the doctrine which they confirm [,] not
the doctrine by the miracle [.] The Romanists argue preposterously
while they would prove the truth by miracles, whereas they should
prove the miracles by the truth.22
23. CN, 2.2711. The episodes involving Jesus feeding the multitudes are among the
most adverted to in the notebooks.
forward [is] to act as its substitute." He says "It was not Moses w
gave you bread from heaven," rather than "Moses did not give y
(literal) bread from heaven." The latter would be the allegorist's readin
the former asserts the one-time physicality of the bread and then ma
the metaphoric displacement (from literal to figurative bread) coincid
with the displacement of source (from Moses to God the Father). Mose
manna, and Jesus' own miracle of the loaves and fishes, are emblems
God's participation in and valorization of human history; the metapho
displacement participates synecdochically in the great translation fr
the kingdoms of this world to the kingdom to come.
In turning from the past ("it was not Moses who gave you") to th
present ("it is my Father who gives you") Jesus symbolically represen
two principles of Biblical exegesis that are also two principles of litera
theory for Coleridge. The first is the principle of copresence of signif
and signified. As Coleridge says, turning to this passage in John and
rejecting the allegorical reading,
If Scripture do not mock our common sense, and the plainest words
are not to be interpreted into the most outrageous metaphors for
the most commonplace truisms, Mountains in labor with a Mouse,
he is at once (he, not merely his moral precepts) he is at once the
Feast and the Master of the Feast.26
Blake (for those who do not joy in his plain words the way Christian
do in those of Jesus) is always open to the charge of using the most
outrageous metaphors for the most commonplace truisms. Such is th
charge to which prophetic speakers and prophetic writers?I think t
latter term legitimate?are subject in all ages.27 Coleridge's hermeneut
principle here could be taken as a welcome reminder that no poet
wholly allegorical, that all literary texts worth reading as literary tex
are to some degree self-referential: the "meaning" of their characte
and motions is not translatable into truisms, the signified is not so
thing isolatable from the signifiers.
When the text is the Bible, Coleridge's first hermeneutic princi
yields an emphasis on the symbolic, representative Christ who simu
taneously "represents" us all ("the purpose of our Lord's mission and
miracles was to represent the Universal in an Individual") and redeem
26. CN 3.3847.
27. Though it is fashionable to bemoan the term "prophetic" for Blake's major poe
as though inspired meant "disorganized" or "deluded," one ofthe consequences of rea
romantic texts as radical Protestant proclamations is to restore to respectability the enth
siasm that, no less than what Keats saw as Wordsworth's egotism, is "a revelation
spirit."
For symbolic poets like Coleridge himself, such exegeses point equa
to a principle of composition. The imitation of Christ, for the poe
means the work of composing miracle stories where we feel "at onc
the presence of the Signified?the Presence of God as the Master?w
narrative presents signifiers, stories of feasts. Actually, though Co
idge's theory of the symbolic half licenses this interpenetration of term
we should use the symbolic terms the other way round: Christ the f
is the ultimate signified, while the Gospel narrative gives us storie
Jesus as presider over the table, master of the feast. For the secular writ
the equivalent of feast rituals and miracle stories are the fictions t
require our suspension of disbelief. These may be preternatural (deal
with events impossible in the course of nature) or natural (dealing w
incidents of ordinary life); but both kinds of poems strive, accordin
this first principle, the principle of copresence, for the sacramental
substantiality of signified and signifier, feast and master of the fea
Each text weaves about itself a hermeneutic circle trismegistus:
poem declares the consubstantiality of signs and signifiers to be ho
holy, holy, and the critic who would violate its sanctum to be play
with a consuming fire. He may not be physically (professionally
stroyed, but like the Unitarian or Socinian casting a cold eye on Ch
tological mythology, he will find his intellectual fire turned into the fir
of hell: all light and no heat.31
The poet who believes that Christ is the signified, not just the gr
signifier, is committed to avoiding even the appearance of reduction
truism that talk about signifiers and signified tends to have. How m
richer is the trope of feast and master of the feast! I have said that
should take Christ as master of the feast in the sense of a characte
narrative signifier pointing elsewhere. (Coleridge himself loved to
on numen and nomen, the name that is here and the numinous reality th
is what Milton called "the meaning, not the name.") Yet the trope
more complex than that, and "master of the feast" both actualizes a
summarizes, or synecdochically represents, Christ in his various pe
gogical poses. Christ as feast means that not Christian precepts but
himself (his authority for saying "I am he whom the prophets foret
I am he whom you desire") is what is taught; the "elsewhere" alway
implied by metaphoric language is, ironically, here, within you. At
31. See The Friend, Essay xiv: "The light of religion is not that of the moon, l
without heat: but neither is its warmth that of the stove, warmth without light. Rel
is the sun, whose warmth indeed swells, and stirs, and actuates the life of nature, but w
at the same time beholds all the growth of life with a master eye, makes all objects glo
on which he looks, and by that glory visible to all others" (CW 4, 1, 105; reused in 6
cf. CN 1.467, 1233).
32. For this sin against the holy spirit (or an argument that could be suc
through less graceful hands) see J. Robert Barth, S. J. The Symbolic Imaginat
and the Romantic Tradition (Princeton: Princeton U. Press, 1977), esp. pp. 3
72. Though Barth thanks McFarland in his preface, Barth's book is written wi
of Mc'Farland's distinction between the spirit of pantheism and the spirit of
religion. Barth might retort that one function of his book is to correct th
immanent God and a transcendent God are contraries the way McFarland
as being. The author?the projector, rather?of Logosophia saw it as his dut
and the place of the Logos to represent?the reconciliation between the
limited extent it is possible to substitute for the Bloomian formula I adop
(ethos-logos-pathos) the mediate position of the theological and poetic
tropes of "I am" and tropes of "it is." "The Eolian Harp" would be the clea
of a trope of pathos or pantheistic "it is" (nature as organic harps swep
intellectual breeze) restituted by a trope of ethos or Christian "I am" (Sara
as stern preceptor). Bloom has taught us to see the "daemonization" of
putting on power in hyperbolic self-glorification, as a trope of pathos fou
sion; but at such moments of assertion, "I am all" falls into what McFarlan
as the extravagance of pantheism, and is properly an "it is" trope.
our daily bread: imaginary gardens with real loaves and fishes in the
Believe that the act of re-presenting those is divine, and the transu
stantiation will be added unto you. Though "miracles must be judge
by the doctrine they confirm, not the doctrine by the miracles,"
history recounted in and by a poem must be the progress from mir
to doctrine. The literary critic is the interpreter of such progress,
cartographer of its labyrinth.
Ill
Let us test this second principle against a humble example of a text
where the first principle alone would yield no raptures:
PITY
Sweet Mercy! how my very heart has bled
To see thee, poor Old Man! and thy grey hairs
Hoar with the snowy blast: while no one cares
To clothe thy shrivell'd limbs and palsied head.
My Father! throw away this tatter'd vest
That mocks thy shivering! take my garment?use
A young man's arm! I'll melt these frozen dews
That hang from thy white beard and numb thy breast.
My Sara too shall tend thee, like a child:
And thou shalt talk, in our fireside's recess,
Of purple Pride, that scowls on Wretchedness?
He did not so, the Galilaean mild,
Who met the Lazars turn'd from rich men's doors
And call'd them Friends, and heal'd their noisome sores!33
I would not argue either that this poem is among the handful of
eridge's most memorable achievements or that it presents a proble
exegesis that requires abstruse research into Coleridge's religious m
ings. But partly because the turn to Sara or her equivalent is cruc
a number of Coleridge's greatest poems, it is worth pausing over t
sonnet and inquiring whether the formal turn or turns of the poem
illuminated by Coleridge's sense of the religious turn from miracl
doctrine. On first reading one might instinctively locate the turn of
poem between wretchedness and Christ, between the dash at the e
the first eleven lines and the parousia of Christ, the signified, in th
three. But is Christ the signified or another signifier for the com
place truth, the moral virtue announced in the poem's title? Prese
33- The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, ed. E. H. Coleridge (Oxf
1912), 1, 93
There was a certain rich man, which was clothed in purple and fine
linen, and fared sumptuously every day: And there was a certain
beggar named Lazarus, which laid at his gate, full of sores, And
desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man's
table: moreover the dogs came and licked his sores. And it came to
pass, that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels into
Abraham's bosom: the rich man also died, and was buried; And in
hell he lift up his eyes, being in torments, and seeth Abraham afar
off, and Lazarus in his bosom. And he cried and said, Father Abra
ham, have mercy on me, and send Lazarus, that he may dip the tip
of his finger in water, and cool my tongue; for I am tortured with
this flame. . . . Then he said, I pray thee therefore, father, that thou
wouldest send him to my father's house: For I have five brethren;
that he may testify unto them, lest they also come into this place
of torment. Abraham saith unto him, They have Moses and the
prophets; let them hear them. And he said, Nay, father Abraham:
but if one went unto them from the dead, they will repent. And he
said unto him, If they hear not Moses and the prophets, neither will
they be persuaded, though one rose from the dead. (Luke 16:19
31)
That Coleridge may have been especially drawn to this passage we can
surmise from its conclusion, its authoritative word from heaven that
faith cannot be based on miracles?even resurrection from the dead.35
If Abraham does not yet appear to be proclaiming the Coleridgean
maxim that "miracles must be judged by the doctrine which they con
firm, not the doctrine by the miracle," all that is needed is to have the
doctrine here proclaimed in Luke confirm the miracle, the resurrection
of Lazarus, effected in John. This connection, this path from Luke to
John (the Gospel Coleridge most preferred), is the gospel according to
Coleridge. His sonnet refers specifically to the Luke story through the
35- Coleridge refers to the episode in Luke in The Friend. See CW 4, 1, 432.
be with Mary and Martha his sisters.38 One can hear Coleridge m
tating on just this sort of temporalization of the symbolic when
speculates that Christ on the cross "in repeating Eli Eli, lama sab
thani, really repeated the whole 22nd psalm."39 If we read Jesus' qu
tation out of its Old Testament context we emerge with pure humanis
the affecting idea of the man-god in agony momentarily forgetting
identity?or at this moment learning the essence of human ident
the way Cleopatra learns to renounce the moon and call herself
more but e'en a woman." Coleridge's speculation that Jesus recited th
whole psalm restores the temporality of symbolism. The psalm begin
with the cry of human despair and concludes with divine triumph: "Y
to him shall all the proud of the earth bow down; before him shall b
all who go down to the dust, and he who cannot keep hims
alive. . . ."In place ofthe pathos of having Jesus cry out that God ha
left him, Coleridge restores the logos, the temporalized word retraci
spiritual history through the psalm and through the path from the p
to the crucified Christ.
Eschewing allegory, the Coleridge poem symbolically participates i
a kenosis of sorts, a humbling to the conversational and domestic (t
level of real loaves and fishes) that lets us see the man before he is un
to the logos. Ultimately, I should like to argue that the whole proje
ofthe domestication ofthe sublime?that the "theology" as well as th
style of the conversation poems, for example?is the expression in p
etry of the imitation of Christ. In this sonnet, however, the theolog
overtones to the stylistic shift enter like lords unannounced, "certain
expected, and yet there is a silent joy in their arrival." In a sense the r
turn of Coleridge's sonnet (the conversion it reenacts) is just wh
literary tradition would put it?between the octet, with its grand sty
and the sestet, with its surprising discovery of "my Sara" and "firesid
recess." My belief that Coleridge's rewriting Hooker's nature as supe
nature represents a development in literary theory might here find
croscopic emblem. Pushing back into the mind of man the bourn
tween the natural and supernatural, Coleridge establishes not just for
romantic period but for the ever-enduring romanticism thereafter t
antithesis of natural and supernatural since mythologized by Yeats
related to literary theory by Harold Bloom, who calls his work "ant
38. This is a risky interpretation, but even if the recent resurrection of Lazarus is
meant to be taken as the context (or ameliorating circumstance) in which we encoun
"the poor ye have always with you," the fact remains that the privileging of the so
iological over the humanistic has been delayed to this late point in the gospel stor
imagine that Coleridge would have rejected as inauthentic the attempt in John 12:6
soften the antithesis between salvation and charity.
39. CN 3.3891.
40. For Coleridge's own sense of the antithesis of nature and spirit as fundamental t
theology, philosophy, and poetry, see, for example, Charles Richard Sanders, Coleridg
and the Broad Church Movement (Durham: Duke U. Press, 1942), pp. 24-25. For the mo
Yeatsian sense of antithetical (vs. primary man) in Coleridge, see Leslie Brisman, "C
eridge and the Ancestral Voices," in Romantic Origins (Ithaca: Cornell U. Press, 1977).
42. The Collected Letters of Samuel Taylor Coleridge, ed. Earl Leslie Griggs
Clarendon Press, 1959), m, 468. The two Biblical quotations thus juxtapose
111:10 and 1 John 4:18.
43. Shedd, v, 26.
and passive medium, they yield a free passage to its light. It was
only to overthrow the usurpation exercised in and through the
senses, that the senses were miraculously appealed to.44
We might call this symbolic or poetic prose since the analogy it state
symbolically participates in the spiritual progress it describes. We begi
we think, strictly with analogy: the natural sun is like?like what? Th
supernatural Son? the inner light? The first of these answers seems t
external, too tied to a specific moment in history, while the second
prematurely internalized. Actually it is one idea of progress that is bei
compared to another, and so the deep truth that Christianity is an ide
of progress (philosophy plus history) is buried in the very condition o
the analogy. If the temporal designation, "ere he (the natural sun or
Christ) is fully arisen," licenses personification (poetic symbol of inc
nation) it allows us to specify the operation of the supernatural logos
nature as the miracle-making of Christ's ministry. The Holy Spirit i
or rather emerges as?the power of such troping, and the splendid figu
of the breeze chasing away the usurping vapors of the night-seas
comes to describe not simply the silencing of the pagan oracles but th
suppression of primitive religious belief. Enlightenment from the sens
and sensory-based magic both characterizes and constitutes Christianit
Old Testament law and lore, Moses' sceptor and his divining rod,
44- The Statesman's Manual, CW 6, 10.
45. The Prelude, vi.600; xiv.49.
for Coleridge (as both the above passage and a marginal not
horn assume) the resurrection after three days was a literal t
The important question is not whether "three days" is acc
"three days and three nights" will not do; the question is wh
in either passage intends the resurrection as a proof of his au
it happens, we do have a Coleridge gloss on the passage from
gloss in which he argues that Jesus spoke more than Jews
could understand?that Jesus meant He would raise Himself.
eridge, the King James translation, "What sign shewest tho
is taken (by Christ) to mean "What truth are you pointing
than "What are your credentials? Give us a miracle as a proof
Coleridge would, I think, have disapproved of the Jerusa
translation, "What sign can you show us to justify wha
done?" No sign can justify him now, and even the resurrecti
be a sign of God's favor to Jesus retroactively justifying him
rather, the indicator of manifest divinity. The Jews in Joh
eridge might argue, are as much mistaken as the scribes an
in Matthew 12:38, since the question about Jesus' authority
point about the spiritual appropriateness of his action in its
(They may indeed have asked what justification Jesus ha
reinterprets the question to be the better one in which sign mea
directive rather than miracle.) From Coleridge's point of view
meddlesome gospel writer misses the point when he "cla
figure of speech: "But he spake of the temple of his body."
idge, interested in theology as the coincidence of history an
Jesus spoke historically rather than atemporally in a pur
speech. The metaphor stands as "an allusion to the chara
Messiah as the Shekinah whose presence constituted the prope
the Templarity, of the Temple."50
ein Beweis gefodert wird, dass er zu dieser Machthandlung ein Recht h
antwortet (2,19): 'brecht diesen Tempel ab und in kurzer Zeit soil ein andr
stehen'; so kann er nur den Tempel als Bild des religiosen Instituts der Jud
und gesagt haben: 'gebt euer ganzes bisheriges religioses Institut auf; ein an
in kurzer Zeit an seine Stelle gesetzt haben."'
49. See the Notebook entry N47.26 (fol. 24-fol. 26), to appear in The Collected
Volume 5. I am indebted to Professor Merton Christensen for this referenc
50. Coleridge is commenting on the passage in Eichhorn cited above, n
bold, even for Eichhorn: and (let me add) as flat as it is bold. A more appro
as sublime Reply can scarcely be imagined than this allusion to the character o
as the Shekinah. ..." (To appear in vol. 11 of The Marginalia [Collected Co
Coleridge reinfuses a sense of history into the philosophy of Christian chan
by Eichhorn, thus returning Christ to the Temple while the temple image
the body of Christ. The gospel writer makes "temple" an allegory; Colerid
it (and conversely, to Christ in the temple) symbolic presence.
(11. 263-66)
52. CN i. ioio. Given the frequency of debate about evidences within Protestant circles,
there is to be sure something unfair about calling the argument from miracles a Romanist
position. Yet there is something authentically Protestant about the resistance to arguments
from miracles, whose tyranny over the senses would be like the tyranny of a church
dominating over the individual, Protestant will to faith. Perhaps we can borrow Coler
idge's term and take it as a given that the ancient mariner himself is, in this symbolic sense,
yet still move onward; and every where the blue sky belongs t
and is their appointed rest, and their native country and t
natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are
expected and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival." The
motion is at once heimlich (domestic, in an idealized sense) and un
(beautiful to the point of sublimity); projected onto the stars,
revealed in the motion of the stars, is the motion of the heart
is at once human pity and divine grace. What is so "moving" a
passage is precisely its humanness, its special combination of de
community, domesticity, recognition, love, and desire for lor
sublimity, surety, power.
In one of the most persuasive studies of the poem, Jerome M
cautions against confusing the many layers of consciousness that
the mariner from the poet and us;53 but just as there is an inspired
of continuity in Coleridge's symbolic reading of scripture, a str
goes from his early Unitarian days to his later high church m
so there is a strand that connects mariner and glosser, balladeer and
moon and Christ at just this moment. The mariner might be o
the moon on Saturday night, April 14, 1805, the date of this
Coleridge's Notebook:
In looking at objects of Nature while I am thinking, as at yo
moon dim-glimmering thro' the dewy window-pane, I seem r
to be seeking, as it were asking, a symbolical language for som
within me that already and forever exists, than observing any
new. Even when that latter is the case, yet still I have alway
obscure feeling as if that new phaenomenon were the dim Aw
of a forgotten or hidden Truth of my inner Nature / It i
interesting as a Word, a Symbol! It is Logos, the Creator! an
Evolver! 54
his turn from moon to water snakes, and from those beyond the shad
of the ship to those within it. Seeing them move "in trails of shinin
white," then with flashes "of golden fire," he is moved to "a forgott
or hidden Truth of his inner Nature. ... It is Logos, the Creator."
Freed for a moment from the anxiety of preternatural influence, th
mariner achieves what we would belie in labeling a moment of faith.
is better called a moment of vision or moment of originality?a mome
of incarnating?or incordinating?the Logos:
tions stand over and against the one in which the preternat
supernatural are closely allied, in which the relation between t
spirit and an absent deity who loves man (and bird and beast)
problematic, and what the gloss calls "daemons" are related to
daimon (the inspiration of the creative genius) rather than the
exorcized by Christ. Except for this last, most conventional
reading, what the interpretations of the poem represent, even
mere variety, is that the askesis of the mariner?what the poem
"penance"?may not be an expression of the progressive reve
Christ the Evolver but a parodic version of it, a mark of the ty
a preternatural, gnostic demiurge from which the mariner, un
readers, cannot escape.
Trembling like a guilty thing surprised by the "loud upro
marks the end of his ghostly hold on the wedding guest, the m
utters what purports to be a summary of his progress but what
as a reminder of his arrest of consciousness at the preternatural
O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.
(11. 597-600)
In the following stanza this terrible memory is restituted by the th
of walking together to the kirk, a "motion" and communal sp
that earlier enskied for the mariner in the motion of the stars
moment, however, the mariner catches what we might call the
opposition between the preternatural and the supernatural, the f
the truly supernatural is not best revealed but most obscured w
preternatural is in the ascendant. This opposition stands as our
reminder that the agon of consciousness presided over by the d
within the poem may yield to, but in itself is not to be identifie
the work of Christ the Evolver, tutelary spirit of the evol
consciousness from mariner to poet, from Romanism to roma
Like those who might have witnessed miraculous events at the
Christ, the mariner "hath been stunned, / And is of sense
(11. 622-23). But for us who reason not the truth from the evid
the senses, the mariner has "strange power of speech." A wand
metonymy for the miraculous, the mariner is a sign of a possible sp
significance in the best sense of "sign" or "wonder": an indicato
way, a directive for conversion. If the preternaturalism of the
the darkness against which the stars can be discerned, it is for the
to read the signs and rise the wiser the morrow morn.
Yale University
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