Canto IV Summary

Lines 1-16

But anxious Cares the pensive Nymph opprest,
And secret Passions labour'd in her Breast.
Not youthful Kings in Battel seiz'd alive,
Not scornful Virgins who their Charms survive,
Not ardent Lovers robb'd of all their Bliss,
Not ancient Ladies when refus'd a Kiss,
Not Tyrants fierce that unrepenting die,
Not Cynthia when her Manteau's pinn'd awry,
E'er felt such Rage, Resentment and Despair,
As Thou, sad Virgin! for thy ravish'd Hair.
For, that sad moment, when the Sylphs withdrew,
And Ariel weeping from Belinda flew,
Umbriel, a dusky melancholy Spright,
As ever sully'd the fair face of Light,
Down to the Central Earth, his proper Scene,
Repairs to search the gloomy Cave of Spleen.

• Belinda is completely pissed off, angry, and upset. As she steams and weeps in the middle of the party, the Gnome Umbriel heads off to the Cave of Spleen to make more trouble.
• Will Belinda just let it go? As you might gather from these first lines in Canto IV, the answer is no. Nope. No way. She is insanely upset, as Pope shows us with a series of comparisons that begins with "Kings in Battel" —that's "battle"—taken prisoner. 
• Pope's use of anaphora ("Not […] Not […] Not") here adds to the grandiosity of the comparisons, and to their ridiculousness: Seriously? Belinda's loss of her lock of hair is like a king being taken prisoner in war? 
• Note, too, the way the comparisons go back and forth between the sublime and the ridiculous (more juxtaposition, yet again): from imprisoned kings to unhappy women who outlive their looks, from lovers losing their beloveds to old women who want to be kissed, from tyrants dying to a woman named Cynthia whose scarf won't go straight.
• Note the words "ravish'd" and "Virgin" in line 10. Do you think that maybe there's some symbolism here in Belinda's loss of her hair to the Baron? We will get to the title later (see "What's Up With The Title"), but for now think about that word "ravish'd" and how it relates to the word "rape." Maybe she does have good reason to be upset.
• Remember the Gnomes, one of the categories of spirits that Ariel told us about in Canto I? They weren't exactly a happy bunch. They used to be gloomy drama queens while they were alive. We finally get to meet one here: Umbriel, a "dusky" (that means dark-ish) spirit, who takes over once Ariel leaves the scene. 
• Umbriel sees an opportunity to make some mischief, so he heads immediately to a place called the "Cave of Spleen." We know that the spleen is an organ in your body, which sits next to your stomach and helps with digestion. Literally. 
• Figuratively, though, "spleen" also means bad temper or spite. In the 18th century, doctors thought that the spleen was responsible for all kinds of physical diseases and problems, especially depression, moodiness, and sadness. Especially in women. Do you see where Umbriel (ok, Pope) is going here? If you guessed that he's off for a dose of Prozac to cheer Belinda up, you're wrong, wrong, wrong.

Lines 17-54

Swift on his sooty Pinions flitts the Gnome,
And in a Vapour reach'd the dismal Dome.
No cheerful Breeze this sullen Region knows,
The dreaded East is all the Wind that blows.
Here, in a Grotto, sheltred close from Air,
And screen'd in Shades from Day's detested Glare,
She sighs for ever on her pensive Bed,
Pain at her side, and Megrim at her Head.
Two Handmaids wait the Throne: Alike in Place,
But diff'ring far in Figure and in Face.
Here stood Ill-nature like an ancient Maid,
Her wrinkled Form in Black and White array'd;
With store of Pray'rs, for Mornings, Nights, and Noons,
Her Hand is fill'd; her Bosom with Lampoons.
There Affectation with a sickly Mien
Shows in her Cheek the Roses of Eighteen,
Practis'd to Lisp, and hang the Head aside,
Faints into Airs, and languishes with Pride;
On the rich Quilt sinks with becoming Woe,
Wrapt in a Gown, for Sickness, and for Show.
The Fair ones feel such Maladies as these,
When each new Night-Dress gives a new Disease.
A constant Vapour o'er the Palace flies;
Strange Phantoms rising as the Mists arise;
Dreadful, as Hermit's Dreams in haunted Shades,
Or bright as Visions of expiring Maids.
Now glaring Fiends, and Snakes on rolling Spires,
Pale Spectres, gaping Tombs, and Purple Fires:
Now Lakes of liquid Gold, Elysian Scenes,
And Crystal Domes, and Angels in Machines.
Unnumber'd Throngs on ev'ry side are seen
Of Bodies chang'd to various Forms by Spleen.
Here living Teapots stand, one Arm held out,
One bent; the Handle this, and that the Spout:
A Pipkin there like Homer's Tripod walks;
Here sighs a Jar, and there a Goose Pie talks;
Men prove with Child, as pow'rful Fancy works,
And Maids turn'd Bottels, call aloud for Corks.

• Umbriel flies down to the Cave of Spleen, where he finds the Queen of Spleen herself. Lying in bed in a dark close room, she has a migraine headache. She is attended by her maids, Ill-Nature and Affectation. The rest of the section describes the Cave; a gloomy, fantastical place full of fogs, vapors, and weird hallucinations. 
• No doubt about it, the spleen is symbolic of a weird set of psychological and physical problems. The Queen of Spleen's migraine (that's what the word "Megrim" in line 24 means) keeps her sighing and feeling sorry for herself on her bed, in a dark "Grotto," which is a cave of sorts. 
• It's probably no wonder she feels so bad, given the company she keeps: her maids, "Ill-nature" and "Affectation." These figures are personifications of the conditions that are their names. 
• Ill-nature looks a little like an old nun without a sense of humor, and Affectation is pretty much like any girl you might know who puts on an act of being fragile and delicate when she really isn't. 
• The trio is surrounded by a bunch of hallucinogenic visions and figures, all representing the kinds of symptoms that people sick with spleen might experience. 
• Ghosts, fantasy buildings, visions of the afterworld (that's what Pope means by "Elysian scenes" in line 45—the Elysian Fields were the ancient Greeks' version of Heaven); walking talking teapots (seriously) and small clay jars (that's what the "Pipkin" in line 51 is) crawling around like "Homer's Tripod" (these were magical walking three-legged tables featured in the Iliad—only in Pope's imagination would they wind up in the Cave of Spleen). 
• There are even pregnant men. Crazy, yes. But that's what 18th-century people said about the spleen.

Lines 55–88

Safe past the Gnome thro' this fantastick Band,
A Branch of healing Spleenwort in his hand.
Then thus addrest the Pow'r--Hail wayward Queen!
Who rule the Sex to Fifty from Fifteen,
Parent of Vapors and of Female Wit,
Who give th' Hysteric or Poetic Fit,
On various Tempers act by various ways,
Make some take Physick, others scribble Plays;
Who cause the Proud their Visits to delay,
And send the Godly in a Pett, to pray.
A Nymph there is, that all thy Pow'r disdains,
And thousands more in equal Mirth maintains.
But oh! if e'er thy Gnome could spoil a Grace,
Or raise a Pimple on a beauteous Face,
Like Citron-Waters Matron's Cheeks inflame,
Or change Complexions at a losing Game;
If e'er with airy Horns I planted Heads,
Or rumpled Petticoats, or tumbled Beds,
Or caus'd Suspicion when no Soul was rude,
Or discompos'd the Head-dress of a Prude,
Or e'er to costive Lap-Dog gave Disease,
Which not the Tears of brightest Eyes could ease:
Hear me, and touch Belinda with Chagrin;
That single Act gives half the World the Spleen.
The Goddess with a discontented Air
Seems to reject him, tho' she grants his Pray'r.
A wondrous Bag with both her Hands she binds,
Like that where once Ulysses held the Winds;
There she collects the Force of Female Lungs,
Sighs, Sobs, and Passions, and the War of Tongues.
A Vial next she fills with fainting Fears,
Soft Sorrows, melting Griefs, and flowing Tears.
The Gnome rejoicing bears her Gift away,
Spreads his black Wings, and slowly mounts to Day.

• Moving through this fantastic landscape, Umbriel approaches the Queen of Spleen, and hails her with respect. He begs her to inflict the powers of spleen on poor Belinda, because overall Belinda is usually so good-natured, and sending her into a hysterical fit would be a triumph. 
• The Queen grants his request by giving him a bag full of screams, cries, sobs, and argument, and a vial full of tears, grief, and sorrow. He takes them and flies back up to the party.
• Umbriel makes it through all of the vapours, fog, and hallucinations, protected by holding "a branch of Spleenwort" (56), which was a plant that 18th-century doctors believed could cure spleen disorders.
• Does it seem to you like the spleen pretty much exemplifies—even amplifies—all of the tendencies Pope's society has of blowing things way out of proportion? Does it also seem to you that Pope's satirical description of all of the disorders the spleen causes is aimed specifically at women? Bingo on both counts. 
• When Umbriel addresses the Queen of Spleen as the "wayward Queen" who rules "the Sex to Fifty from Fifteen"(57-58), he means the female sex, which becomes clear in the following seventeen lines. 
• Women inflicted with the spleen, or so these lines seem to tell us, show symptoms of "Vapors." In 18th-century medical jargon, that was what they called "female hysteria"—or, worse, "Female Wit" (59), which might lead them to write poetry or plays (60–62). Yes, ladies, Pope is making fun of women who write, and calling them diseased. Hey, we never said the 18th century was an enlightened age. 
• Other women with spleen problems might be witchy to their friends ("cause the Proud their Visits to delay," in line 63), or get all self-righteous ("send the Godly in a Pett"—that's a snit or a temper—"to Pray," line 64). 
• Belinda, however, isn't like any of those. As Umbriel tells the Queen, Belinda "disdains" the power of spleen, and tends instead to keep everyone around her in good humor ("thousands more in equal Mirth maintains"). 
• In other words, Belinda is a challenge to the Queen of Spleen, and right now—after the Baron has clipped her hair—is a golden opportunity for the Queen to assert her power. Umbriel pleads with the Queen to do just that, and uses his own accomplishments on her behalf to help his case. 
• Umbriel himself is quite a troublemaker. He causes zits on pretty girls' faces, and makes older women go all red in the face; he makes husbands imagine that their wives are having affairs (that's what he means by "If e'er with airy Horns I planted Heads" in line 71); he makes friends think their friends are stabbing them in the back; he messes up careful hairdos; he makes lap-dogs sick. What a resume. 
• But the Queen hears him out and grants his wish, giving him a magical bag full of female screams and cries, and a vial of tears and sorrow. 
• There's another allusion here, in line 82—this time from Homer's Odyssey. Ulysses, that epic's main character, is given a bag full of all of the winds, except the west wind, with the idea that the west wind will blow his ship home from the Trojan War. 
• Sadly, his men mistakenly open the bag when they're just in sight of shore, all the other winds come out, and the ship is blown far away. It takes them ten years to get home again. (See the Odyssey, Book 10 for the whole story). That is some bag. Do you think Pope is making a humorous comparison between the winds of Classical Greek epic, and the sobs and screams of society women? Does a bear have hair?
• Speaking of allusions, this entire section of Canto IV is an extended one, to Aeneas's trip to the underworld in Book VI of Virgil's Aeneid. 
• Of course, Umbriel's adventures in the Cave of Spleen aren't half as serious as Aeneas's in the underworld. Pope keeps on putting the mock into mock epic.

Lines 89-140

Sunk in Thalestris' Arms the Nymph he found,
Her Eyes dejected and her Hair unbound.
Full o'er their Heads the swelling Bag he rent,
And all the Furies issued at the Vent.
Belinda burns with more than mortal Ire,
And fierce Thalestris fans the rising Fire.
O wretched Maid! she spread her hands, and cry'd,
(While Hampton's Ecchos, wretched Maid reply'd)
Was it for this you took such constant Care
The Bodkin, Comb, and Essence to prepare;
For this your Locks in Paper-Durance bound,
For this with tort'ring Irons wreath'd around?
For this with Fillets strain'd your tender Head,
And bravely bore the double Loads of Lead?
Gods! shall the Ravisher display your Hair,
While the Fops envy, and the Ladies stare!
Honour forbid! at whose unrival'd Shrine
Ease, Pleasure, Virtue, All, our Sex resign.
Methinks already I your Tears survey,
Already hear the horrid things they say,
Already see you a degraded Toast,
And all your Honour in a Whisper lost!
How shall I, then, your helpless Fame defend?
'Twill then be Infamy to seem your Friend!
And shall this Prize, th' inestimable Prize,
Expos'd thro' Crystal to the gazing Eyes,
And heighten'd by the Diamond's circling Rays,
On that Rapacious Hand for ever blaze?
Sooner shall Grass in Hide Park Circus grow,
And Wits take Lodgings in the Sound of Bow;
Sooner let Earth, Air, Sea, to Chaos fall,
Men, Monkies, Lap-dogs, Parrots, perish all!
She said; then raging to Sir Plume repairs,
And bids her Beau demand the precious Hairs:
(Sir Plume, of Amber Snuff-box justly vain,
And the nice Conduct of a clouded Cane)
With earnest Eyes, and round unthinking Face,
He first the Snuff-box open'd, then the Case,
And thus broke out— "My Lord, why, what the Devil?
"Z—ds! damn the Lock! 'fore Gad, you must be civil!
"Plague on't! 'tis past a Jest—nay prithee, Pox!
"Give her the Hair— he spoke, and rapp'd his Box.
It grieves me much (reply'd the Peer again)
Who speaks so well shou'd ever speak in vain.
But by this Lock, this sacred Lock I swear,
(Which never more shall join its parted Hair,
Which never more its Honours shall renew,
Clipt from the lovely Head where late it grew)
That while my Nostrils draw the vital Air,
This Hand, which won it, shall for ever wear.
He spoke, and speaking, in proud Triumph spread
The long-contended Honours of her Head.

• Umbriel finds Belinda where he left her, drooping in the arms of her friend Thalestris. He wastes no time in dumping the entire contents of the bag of tears and anger over their heads, and they both become enraged. 
• Thalestris makes a short outraged speech to Belinda about how humiliating it is to have her hair snipped in this way, and runs to her boyfriend, Sir Plume, asking him to force the Baron to return the lock. Sir Plume takes a bit of snuff and scolds the Baron, but to no avail: the Baron refuses to give it back.
• With friends like these, who needs enemies? Pope gives us a clue to Thalestris's personality just by her name: it's another allusion to ancient Greek legend. The original Thalestris was Queen of the Amazons, a tough female warrior who was more than a match for Alexander the Great. 
• Belinda's Thalestris is just as confrontational, especially after Umbriel dumps the contents of the bag of angry tears over her head. The Queen of Spleen's bag is so horrific, Pope tells us, that it seems as if the Furies themselves are coming out of it.
• (That's another allusion to Classical Greece, where the Furies were vengeful creatures unleashed by the gods to punish criminals. You can learn more about them in the ancient Greek play Erinyes.)
• Belinda is too angry to speak (she "burns with more than Mortal Ire"), but Thalestris has no problems fanning the flames by telling Belinda how much she deserves to be super-pissed about it all. 
• Her speech in lines 95-120 first refers to the difficulty in preparing 18th-century hairstyles. That may seem trivial, but while they did have hairpins and combs, and even hair gel—that's what she means when she talks about "Bodkin, Comb, and Essence" in line 108—they had to heat up their curling and straightening irons in the fire. Aren't you grateful for electricity?,
• And then she horrifically imagines the Baron showing off Belinda's lock of hair to the public as a trophy. 
• This—or so Thalestris says—will give her a bad reputation, as people will talk about her, and "all your Honour in a Whisper" will be lost (110). Even worse, in classic frenemy style, Thalestris says that once Belinda does lose her honor, even she herself won't want to be Belinda's friend, as everyone will talk about her too. Nice. 
• We're veering back into symbolism here, where that lock is more than just a lock, aren't we? Will the Baron really, Thalestris asks in lines 113, take the lock and enclose it in a crystal ring, to wear around and show off? 
• No way, she insists, never—not until grass grows in "Hide-Park Circus" (this was a fancy riding ring in London) or young society men ("Wits") move to an unfashionable neighborhood ("Bow"). This is Thalestris's way of saying, not until Hell freezes over. 
• Having possibly done more damage to Belinda's peace of mind than even the Baron, Thalestris then turns to her own boyfriend (her "Beau"), Sir Plume, in lines 121-130, asking him to intervene. 
• Sir Plume, you might notice, is very much the society dandy, holding a beautiful snuff-box made of amber (snuff was another popular social pastime, mainly for men, back in those days) and carrying a fancy cane. Call him an 18th-century hipster.
• Notice the way he talks in lines 127-130? Can you even completely understand what he is saying? You're not supposed to: Pope is also making fun of the kind of fashionable slang that men like Sir Plume used, words like "Z—ds" (for "zounds", which was a swear word meaning "God's wounds") or "Pox" (which was slang for either smallpox or venereal disease). 
• Pause for just a moment here, though, and admire Pope's ability to take actual speech like Sir Plume's and make it work completely within the iambic pentameter and rhyme scheme of the heroic couplet form. That's boss.
• Sir Plume, however, is not boss, and the Baron first makes fun of him, and then swears that he will never, ever give up his prize. Now what?

Lines 141-176

But Umbriel, hateful Gnome! forbears not so;
He breaks the Vial whence the Sorrows flow.
Then see! the Nymph in beauteous Grief appears,
Her Eyes half languishing, half drown'd in Tears;
On her heav'd Bosom hung her drooping Head,
Which, with a Sigh, she rais'd; and thus she said.
For ever curs'd be this detested Day,
Which snatch'd my best, my fav'rite Curl away!
Happy! ah ten times happy, had I been,
If Hampton-Court these Eyes had never seen!
Yet am not I the first mistaken Maid,
By Love of Courts to num'rous Ills betray'd.
Oh had I rather un-admir'd remain'd
In some lone Isle, or distant Northern Land;
Where the gilt Chariot never marks the way,
Where none learn Ombre, none e'er taste Bohea!
There kept my Charms conceal'd from mortal Eye,
Like Roses that in Desarts bloom and die.
What mov'd my Mind with youthful Lords to rome?
O had I stay'd, and said my Pray'rs at home!
'Twas this, the Morning Omens seem'd to tell;
Thrice from my trembling hand the Patch-box fell;
The tott'ring China shook without a Wind,
Nay, Poll sate mute, and Shock was most Unkind!
A Sylph too warn'd me of the Threats of Fate,
In mystic Visions, now believ'd too late!
See the poor Remnants of these slighted Hairs!
My hands shall rend what ev'n thy Rapine spares:
These, in two sable Ringlets taught to break,
Once gave new Beauties to the snowie Neck.
The Sister-Lock now sits uncouth, alone,
And in its Fellow's Fate foresees its own;
Uncurl'd it hangs, the fatal Sheers demands;
And tempts once more thy sacrilegious Hands.
Oh hadst thou, Cruel! been content to seize
Hairs less in sight, or any Hairs but these!

• The Baron is unmoved by Sir Plume and Thalestris, so Umbriel dumps the contents of the vial of tears and sorrow over Belinda's head, which gives her a serious case of weepy self-pity. 
• She bemoans the fate that brought her to Hampton Court in the first place, and recalls a series of bad omens that should have kept her at home. She cries a little over the remaining, lonely lock and wonders if it, too, will get cut off by the Baron. Why couldn't he have cut off some other hair from somewhere else?
• More drama. So much more drama. Umbriel's vial of tears sends Belinda into a massive pity-party. We've all gone there at one time or another; it's the "guess-I'll-go-eat-worms" syndrome that sometimes hits us when we're down. 
• Belinda has it bad. Why, she wonders, why did she ever even go to Hampton Court in the first place? Why didn't she just move to the North Pole or someplace far far away where no one plays card games like "Ombre" or drinks "Bohea" ( a fancy kind of tea)? 
• Hindsight is always 20/20, they say, and Belinda keeps on remembering all kinds of portents and omens—even the dream sent by Ariel that morning—that should have kept her, and her hair, safe and at home. 
• Following along with the self-pity is fear and recrimination (of course). And if you think that Pope might be making a vaguely dirty joke when he has Belinda as the Baron why he didn't take "Hairs less in sight, or any Hairs but these" (176), you are more than likely right. Just don't tell your parents. This is great literature after all.