The Rape of the Lock Classical and Epic Imagery

 Classical and Epic Imagery

Shocked to find so many ancient Greeks and Romans scattered through this eighteenth-century poem, thick as raisins in an oatmeal-raisin cookie? (You could think of them as chocolate chips instead, if that makes you happier.)

Remember, as a mock-epic poem, The Rape of the Lock has to refer to as many moments in as many epic poems as Pope can pack in to each Canto. Comparison and juxtaposition of the classical heroism of characters like Achilles, Aeneas, and Odysseus, and gods like Zeus and Minerva, to the 18th-century frivolity of the Sylphs and Gnomes, or characters like Belinda, the Baron, Thalestris, Clarissa, and Sir Plume, is absolutely crucial to the humor and the satire of this poem.

Is Pope saying that his own society has fallen far, far below the standards of classical heroism and nobility that the ancient epic tradition depicts? Is he saying that the ancient epic tradition is completely unsuited to the ways people behave and believe during his own time? Could he be saying both?

There are way too many classical, epic references in the entire poem to go through them all here, but we'll hit the highlights for you now, and you can go back and pick out the rest on your own (the way your little sister might pick all the chocolate chips out of that cookie you were saving for tomorrow).

Canto I, Lines 1-12

The speaker begins the poem by invoking the "Gods" and "Muses" who've inspired him to write, just like Homer and Virgil do at the beginnings of The Iliad, The Odyssey, and The Aeneid.

Like in Monty Python's Flying Circus, we know we're in for something completely different when Pope's Gods and Muses turn out to be his buddy, John Caryll, and the empty-headed Belinda herself. From the very beginning we are yanked between epic grandeur and the triviality of Pope's present day, and Pope does not let up throughout the poem.

Canto I, Lines 139-140

Belinda's primping and prepping for the party, her makeup and hairstyling, are likened by the speaker to the arming of an epic hero for battle: "Now awful Beauty puts on all its Arms." Belinda's no Achilles.

But wait a minute. Readers of Book 13 of Ovid's Metamorphosis will know that Achilles's mother tried to hide him from getting drafted to fight, by dressing him as a girl and sitting him among her handmaidens. Hmm. Maybe this humor cuts both ways? And who would you back in an MMA bout: Belinda or the classical hero?

Canto II, Lines 41-46

The Baron, plotting his ways of getting at Belinda's hair, makes a sacrifice, a burnt offering of all the trivial love-tokens he's ever received (letters, gloves, flowers, etc.), to some unnamed "Powers" to grant his wish.

Classical, epic heroes would often do this, too, only they'd use bulls, sheep, or sometimes even the children of fellow kings (shudder) to convince the gods to help their cause. The Baron's sacrifice draws on all of these horrific, savage references, but for a completely trivial purpose, and in a frivolous way.

Canto II, Line 119

Here, Belinda's petticoat is called a "sev'nfold Fence" guarding her, below the waist, from potential violators; this metaphor is a direct reference to the famous Shield of Ajax as it was described in Book VII of The Iliad, made with seven folds of bull's hide and brass.

Awful beauty again puts on all of its arms—including its petticoats. Very silly. Unless of course you've ever worn Spanx, which sometimes feel like seven layers of bull's hide and brass …

Canto II, Lines 133-136

Ariel admonishes the Sylph army to not let their guard down over Belinda, and threatens them with dire punishments if they do. Here, he uses a simile to tell them that anyone who doesn't do his job will be "as Ixion fix'd" to a wheel of torture—in the Sylphs' case, a coffee-grinder.

Ixion, an ancient Greek king, deceptively killed his father-in-law, and for that he was sentence to be broken on a wheel in Hades for eternity. Again, mock-epic juxtaposition. Although getting stuck in a coffee-grinder does sound pretty painful.

Canto III, Lines 37-100

Here's an extended metaphor juxtaposing the epic battle scenes of poems like The Iliad with the card game of Ombre played by Belinda and the Baron.

Pope hits all of the highlights of epic-battle convention: lines 37-44 introduce the King face-cards as if they were the commanders of armies like the Greeks and Trojans; lines 46-64 recount the exploits of the ace of spades and the two of spades ("Spadillio" and "Manillio") as if they were Hector and Achilles, and the remaining lines recount taken tricks as if the cards were soldiers killed and wounded in battle.

How far has polite society fallen from the noble, glorious warfare of old? Or—to take the opposite side, as this juxtaposition encourages us to do also—maybe the fact that card games can replace bloody, gory battles is an indicator of how far civilization has progressed?

Canto IV, Lines 16-88

Here's is another extended metaphor likening Umbriel's journey to the gloomy, feminine Cave of Spleen, to Aeneas's quest to the underworld of Hades in Book 6 of The Aeneid.

Whereas Aeneas is on the noble purpose of visiting the ghost of his dead father, however, Umbriel is on the hunt for tears, sobs, sighs, and hysterics, to inflict on Belinda and her friends. Where the Hades that Aeneas visits is full of the regal and tragic ghosts of recent epic history (all of his friends who were killed in the Trojan War, the ghost of poor Queen Dido, etc.), the Cave of Spleen is full of the hypochondriac issues and crazy visions of women under the influence of their spleens. Pope's classically-educated friends would have found this an absolute hoot. We're just telling you that it was supposed to be really, really funny. These days, not so much.

Canto V, Lines 9-34

Clarissa's reasonable speech here is an almost line-for-line parody of the speech that Sarpedon, a Trojan noble, makes to his son Glaucus, urging him to win glory by leading the attack on the invading Greeks, from Book 12 of Homer's Iliad.

Pope's readers would have known that, when Sarpedon finished talking, all of the soldiers around him erupted into loud cheers. We know that Clarissa's audience of pouty society belles and beaux received her speech with sullen silence and indifference. Kids these days.

Canto V, Lines 45-52

Readers of the Iliad and the Odyssey know that often the Greek gods would get directly involved in the battles between their mortal protégés, donning armor and plunging into the fray (they never seem to make a difference to the outcome, though. If we were a football coach, we might leave them as decorative team members on the bench).

These lines use a long simile to liken the cat-fight, or flirt-fight (if that isn't a word, we hereby invent it now, because it's perfect for what Pope describes here), between Belinda, the Baron, and their friends.

Back to the double-edged-ness of the epic simile, though: who looks sillier, the society folk who are pelting each other with snuff and hairpins, or the Greek gods whimpering on the battlefield when they actually get hit?

Canto V, Lines 71-74

In the Aeneid, Book 12, during the battle between Aeneas and Turnus, the god Jove weighs each of the heroes' fates in a set of golden scales (Aeneas wins). Here, Pope has Jove weigh "the Men's Wits" against "the Lady's Hair." Strangely enough, the men's wits are lighter than Belinda's lock (doesn't say much for their wits, does it?).

COURTESY: www.sparknotes.com