Canto V Summary

Lines 1-34

She said: the pitying Audience melt in Tears,
But Fate and Jove had stopp'd the Baron's Ears.
In vain Thalestris with Reproach assails,
For who can move when fair Belinda fails?
Not half so fixt the Trojan cou'd remain,
While Anna begg'd and Dido rag'd in vain.
Then grave Clarissa graceful wav'd her Fan;
Silence ensu'd, and thus the Nymph began.
Say, why are Beauties prais'd and honour'd most,
The wise Man's Passion, and the vain Man's Toast?
Why deck'd with all that Land and Sea afford,
Why Angels call'd, and Angel-like ador'd?
Why round our Coaches crowd the white-glov'd Beaus,
Why bows the Side-box from its inmost Rows?
How vain are all these Glories, all our Pains,
Unless good Sense preserve what Beauty gains:
That Men may say, when we the Front-box grace,
Behold the first in Virtue, as in Face!
Oh! if to dance all Night, and dress all Day,
Charm'd the Small-pox, or chas'd old Age away;
Who would not scorn what Huswife's Cares produce,
Or who would learn one earthly Thing of Use?
To patch, nay ogle, might become a Saint,
Nor could it sure be such a Sin to paint.
But since, alas! frail Beauty must decay,
Curl'd or uncurl'd, since Locks will turn to grey,
Since paint'd, or not paint'd, all shall fade,
And she who scorns a Man, must die a Maid;
What then remains, but well our Pow'r to use,
And keep good Humour still whate'er we lose?
And trust me, Dear! good Humour can prevail,
When Airs, and Flights, and Screams, and Scolding fail.
Beauties in vain their pretty Eyes may roll;
Charms strike the Sight, but Merit wins the Soul.

• Belinda finishes her tearful lament, and leaves not a dry eye in the house. The Baron still refuses to relent, even after Thalestris yells at him some more. 
• Then Clarissa waves her fan and makes a long speech about the importance of keeping good humor and putting things like this into perspective, especially for young women. It's good humor, she argues, that makes women more attractive than anything else. 
• It's hard to believe that the Baron can withstand beautiful Belinda's tears, but as our narrator tells us, "Jove" (i.e. the king of the Greek and Roman gods, who you may know as Jupiter or Zeus), along with Fate, has plugged his ears. 
• To demonstrate just how unmoved the Baron is, Pope tosses in yet another epic allusion, to Aeneas again, this time from Book 4 in the Aeneid when Dido and her sister, Anna, are begging Aeneas not to leave Carthage. Aeneas leaves. The Baron holds on to the lock. Men.
• Another thing that's hard to believe about this moment in The Rape of the Lock is Clarissa's speech. You may be saying, hold on a sec—isn't that the same Clarissa who started all the trouble in the first place by giving the Baron her scissors? Absolutely. 
• So where does she get off telling Belinda to just suck it up and deal with the haircut? Good question. Literary critics have been arguing for almost three hundred years about why Pope gives her this speech, which is one of the most common-sensical passages in the whole poem. 
• How many times have your parents told you that it's not what you look like on the outside, but how you are on the inside that counts? That's pretty much the gist of what Clarissa is saying here. 
• Beauty like Belinda's might be nice to have, but in a few years it fades anyway, and so—Clarissa argues—"what then remains, but well our Pow'r to use, / And keep good Humour still whate'er we lose?" (30–31). 
• She concludes with the most anti-spleen passage in the whole poem, telling Belinda that all of her "Airs, and Flights, and Screams, and Scolding" will probably fail, and that if she keeps things in perspective and rises above the whole issue, she'll win in the end. Very sensible and reasonable, wouldn't you say?

Lines 35-70

So spake the Dame, but no Applause ensu'd;
Belinda frown'd, Thalestris call'd her Prude.
To Arms, to Arms! the fierce Virago cries,
And swift as Lightning to the Combate flies.
All side in Parties, and begin th' Attack;
Fans clap, Silks rustle, and tough Whalebones crack;
Heroes and Heroines Shouts confus'dly rise,
And base, and treble Voices strike the Skies.
No common Weapons in their Hands are found,
Like Gods they fight, nor dread a mortal Wound.
So when bold Homer makes the Gods engage,
And heav'nly Breasts with human Passions rage;
'Gainst Pallas, Mars; Latona, Hermes arms;
And all Olympus rings with loud Alarms.
Jove's Thunder roars, Heav'n trembles all around;
Blue Neptune storms, the bellowing Deeps resound;
Earth shakes her nodding Tow'rs, the Ground gives way;
And the pale Ghosts start at the Flash of Day!
Triumphant Umbriel on a Sconce's Height
Clapt his glad Wings, and sate to view the Fight,
Propt on their Bodkin Spears, the Sprights survey
The growing Combat, or assist the Fray.
While thro' the Press enrag'd Thalestries flies,
And scatters Deaths around from both her Eyes,
A Beau and Witling perish'd in the Throng,
One dy'd in Metaphor, and one in Song.
O cruel Nymph! a living Death I bear,
Cry'd Dapperwit, and sunk beside his Chair.
A mournful Glance Sir Fopling upwards cast,
Those Eyes are made so killing—was his last:
Thus on Meander's flow'ry Margin lies
Th' expiring Swan, and as he sings he dies.
When bold Sir Plume had drawn Clarissa down,
Chloe stept in, and kill'd him with a Frown;
She smil'd to see the doughty Hero slain,
But at her Smile, the Beau reviv'd again.

• The entire party basically ignores Clarissa, and a battle between the ladies and the gentlemen ensues. Umbriel sits above them all on a sconce and watches, delighted. 
• Cue another mock epic battle scene—this time, off of the card table. Clarissa's speech was reasonable, but no one at this party is satisfied with reason. Thalestris and Belinda laugh at Clarissa and urge their friends to attack the friends of the Baron. Our narrator calls Thalestris a "Virago" in line 37, a Latin word for a woman who fights like a man (very appropriate for a female Amazon). 
• We've pretty much lost any pretense at social grace or politeness at this point, as the beaus and belles jump on each other, rap each other with fans, canes, and snuffboxes, or simply wound each other with mean glances and sarcasm. It's an all-out riot.
• Pope pulls in yet another epic allusion in lines 45-52, when he uses a simile to refer to Homer's practice of tossing the Greek gods into the battle between the Trojans and Greeks in the Iliad. 
• Pope name-drops like crazy; here are all of our old friends from the Hellenic pantheon: "Pallas" (as in Athena), "Mars" (the god of war), "Latona," mother of Apollo and Diana, "Hermes" the messenger. Here's Jove (Zeus) again, and Neptune as well. 
• Do we think that Belinda and Thalestris, the Baron and Sir Plume, are as formidable as these ancient gods? Er, no. More mock epic juxtaposition. But then again, couldn't you also think that Homer's old Greek gods themselves were pretty silly and petty to get themselves all involved in a human squabble like the Trojan War? The satire cuts both ways.
• Notice how cleverly Pope represents combat in lines 57-70, as Thalestris cruises through the room doing damage with sarcastic glances and mean comments. Love is a battlefield, as the wounded "Beau" and "Witling" and "Dapperwit" (all potentially insulting names for young society men) can attest. 
• Notice too in line 67 that even our sensible Clarissa has been drawn into the fight.

Lines 71–102

Now Jove suspends his golden Scales in Air,
Weighs the Men's Wits against the Lady's Hair;
The doubtful Beam long nods from side to side;
At length the Wits mount up, the Hairs subside.
See fierce Belinda on the Baron flies,
With more than usual Lightning in her Eyes;
Nor fear'd the Chief th' unequal Fight to try,
Who sought no more than on his Foe to die.
But this bold Lord, with manly Strength indu'd,
She with one Finger and a Thumb subdu'd,
Just where the Breath of Life his Nostrils drew,
A Charge of Snuff the wily Virgin threw;
The Gnomes direct, to ev'ry Atome just,
The pungent Grains of titillating Dust.
Sudden, with starting Tears each Eye o'erflows,
And the high Dome re-ecchoes to his Nose.
Now meet thy Fate, incens'd Belinda cry'd,
And drew a deadly Bodkin from her Side.
(The same, his ancient Personage to deck,
Her great great Grandsire wore about his Neck
In three Seal-Rings which after, melted down,
Form'd a vast Buckle for his Widow's Gown:
Her infant Grandame's Whistle next it grew,
The Bells she gingled, and the Whistle blew;
Then in a Bodkin grac'd her Mother's Hairs,
Which long she wore, and now Belinda wears.)
Boast not my Fall (he cry'd) insulting Foe!
Thou by some other shalt be laid as low.
Nor think, to die dejects my lofty Mind;
All that I dread, is leaving you behind!
Rather than so, ah let me still survive,
And burn in Cupid's Flames,—but burn alive.

• Jove weighs the outcome of the battle in favor of the men, but Belinda conquers the Baron by tossing a pinch of snuff in his nose and making him sneeze. She threatens him with a hairpin, and he capitulates by confessing his love for her.
• More mock epic in these lines: Pope is really laying it on thick here, towards the end of the poem. We may have great Jove in the sky keeping an eye on the battle—but in the thick of things Belinda defeats the Baron with a well-thrown bit of snuff. 
• That weapon is about as ridiculous as the hairpin she draws on him, next. In the best epic tradition, where the weapons of heroes such as Achilles and Hector have their own histories, Pope describes Belinda's bodkin as being melted into different forms and worn by her ancestors as, variously: seal rings; a belt buckle; a baby's whistle, and then the hairpin she now wields. 
• Notice the Baron's losing speech: he's not afraid to die, he says, but he is afraid of leaving Belinda behind. So perhaps there was something to Ariel's noticing that "Earthly Lover" in Belinda's heart, earlier, and there's more than a little something between her and the Baron. What a weird way these two have of showing their feelings for each other. Pigtail-pulling is one thing, but chopping one off altogether?

Lines 103-150

Restore the Lock! she cries; and all around
Restore the Lock! the vaulted Roofs rebound.
Not fierce Othello in so loud a Strain
Roar'd for the Handkerchief that caus'd his Pain.
But see how oft Ambitious Aims are cross'd,
And Chiefs contend 'till all the Prize is lost!
The Lock, obtain'd with Guilt, and kept with Pain,
In ev'ry place is sought, but sought in vain:
With such a Prize no Mortal must be blest,
So Heav'n decrees! with Heav'n who can contest?
Some thought it mounted to the Lunar Sphere,
Since all things lost on Earth, are treasur'd there.
There Heroe's Wits are kept in pondrous Vases,
And Beau's in Snuff-boxes and Tweezer-Cases.
There broken Vows, and Death-bed Alms are found,
And Lovers Hearts with Ends of Riband bound;
The Courtiers Promises, and Sick Man's Pray'rs,
The Smiles of Harlots, and the Tears of Heirs,
Cages for Gnats, and Chains to Yoak a Flea;
Dry'd Butterflies, and Tomes of Casuistry.
But trust the Muse—she saw it upward rise,
Tho' mark'd by none but quick Poetic Eyes:
(So Rome's great Founder to the Heav'ns withdrew,
To Proculus alone confess'd in view.)
A sudden Star, it shot thro' liquid Air,
And drew behind a radiant Trail of Hair.
Not Berenice's Locks first rose so bright,
The heav'ns bespangling with dishevel'd light.
The Sylphs behold it kindling as it flies,
And pleas'd pursue its Progress thro' the Skies.
This the Beau-monde shall from the Mall survey,
And hail with Musick its propitious Ray.
This, the blest Lover shall for Venus take,
And send up Vows from Rosamonda's Lake.
This Partridge soon shall view in cloudless Skies,
When next he looks thro' Galilaeo's Eyes;
And hence th' Egregious Wizard shall foredoom
The Fate of Louis, and the Fall of Rome.
Then cease, bright Nymph! to mourn the ravish'd Hair
Which adds new Glory to the shining Sphere!
Not all the Tresses that fair Head can boast
Shall draw such Envy as the Lock you lost.
For, after all the Murders of your Eye,
When, after Millions slain, your self shall die;
When those fair Suns shall sett, as sett they must,
And all those Tresses shall be laid in Dust;
This Lock, the Muse shall consecrate to Fame,
And mid'st the Stars inscribe Belinda's Name!

• The Baron vanquished, all of the party call on him to return the lock of hair. But the lock itself has gone missing. 
• The narrator first guesses a series of places where it might have gone, but concludes that it rose all the way up to the night sky in the form of a star. The only person who saw it go is the narrator himself, who (as the poet telling the story) comforts Belinda that because the lock is now a star, it will shine in the sky for eternity, and thus ensure Belinda's own undying fame and immortality. Um, great?
• Note Pope's allusion to his fellow Brit, William Shakespeare, in line 105, where he references Othello and his wife's infamous handkerchief. 
• We get more juxtaposition here (how silly is it, to equate Belinda's lock of hair with the handkerchief that causes Othello's jealousy and his eventual murder of Desdemona?), but this time, of high tragedy to the comedy of this scene. 
• Does your family have an imaginary, mysterious place where all of the lost socks, keys, and other little things you can never find, are probably all collected? 
• Pope describes just that in the "Lunar Sphere" of lines 113-122: a place where ridiculous, or nonsensical, or trivial things (like broken vows, or the promises of courtiers, or the tears of greedy children whose rich parents are dying, or "tomes of Casuistry" (that's fancy speak for big, thick books of meaningless philosophy), all wind up. 
• But the lock is not up there in the "Lunar Sphere" with all of those other things. Where, then, did it go? "Trust the Muse—she saw it upward rise" (123), our narrator tells us. When you hear the word "Muse," your poetry alarm bells ought to start ringing hard. Pope is moving us into another level here: that of the poet himself, who's been watching and telling the story all along, his "quick Poetic Eyes" noticing everything. 
• We get two immediate allusions to greatness right away in lines 125-126: the first, to Romulus, the founder of Rome, who appeared after his death in a vision to his friend Proculus; the second, to "Berenice's Locks" —a reference to an ancient Egyptian myth about a queen who sacrificed her beautiful long hair to save her husband's life. The gods, or so the myth goes, placed the locks into the sky as a constellation (which actually exists; it's the constellation Coma Berenices). 
• The Sylphs themselves, we're told, saw the lock rise upwards, and it will forever be seen by the "Beau-monde" (high society) as they spend time in the classy places of London, like the "Mall" (Pall Mall, a fashionable place to see and be seen), or "Rosamunda's Lake" (an artificial pond in St. James's Park). 
• In a final burst of ridiculousness, the narrator tells us that the lock will also be seen by "Partridge", a reference to a crackpot astrologer of the 17th century, who made crazy predictions about the future (think Nostradamus, whose predictions always headline the National Inquirer). 
• We certainly hope that you don't feel cheated by the poem's ending, or feel like Pope pulled a major cop-out. Were you hoping that Belinda would get her hair back? Or that the Baron would make it into a nose-ring and wear it at the next masquerade ball? 
• Do you realize that Pope is trying to tell us that what actually did happen to the lock was the best possible thing that could happen to it? He made it into a poem. And we're still reading about it, and about Belinda, and about the Baron. 
• In the end, we're still reading Alexander Pope. So maybe also in the end The Rape of the Lock is about the power of poetry—and the power of this particular poet, Alexander Pope—to raise things above the trivial world and into the world of eternal literary fame.