History of the POEMS of Pope & Montagu

ENGLIT 2-part ASSIGNMENT 2019

This assignment consists of discussion questions  and responses to the answers of others. PLEASE FOLLOW INSTRUCTIONS and respond in college level writing with articulate content that is relevant, scholarly and competent? Parts 1 & 2 have two sections?

PART ONE of the Assignment  – QUESTION – LITERATURE WORK: “THE MONK” by Matthew Lewis

SECTION ONE
 1.
At least 150 words including quotation) in an answer to define “The gothic?”

2. Then, quote a short passage (no more than 50 words) from the first 3 chapters of The Monk, and explain fully what Gothic is about it. Pick a passage to reflect scholarly on?

 SECTION TWO

 1.  Go into detail  (150 words) to compare an aspect of the last chapters of The Monk to a horror film (or story) that you have previously seen or read. Explain why the moment you have picked from the ending of The Monk is typical of the eighteenth century rather than of the present-day U.S.

PART TWO  of the Assignment – POEMS –  TWO PART ASSIGNMENT

Alexander Pope and Lady Mary W. Montagu

1.  One Original Post (150 words). 2. One Separate Response to another’s (75 words).

SECTION ONE

1. Your original post must choose a short passage from one of the poems by Pope or Montagu (or a passage from the letter) and respond to it. Do not quote more than 50 words from your original source. You should interpret fully what your author (for instance, Pope) is saying to the other author (for instance, Montagu) in the passage you have selected.

SECTION TWO

2.Your response to the post,(listed below)  should briefly compare or contrast to what you wrote in your original post?

Respond to This Post, articulately and scholarly, according to the instructions?

“But if the first Eve 25

Hard doom did receive,

When only one apple had she,

What a punishment new

Shall be found out for you,

Who tasting have robb’d the whole tree?”  30

Pope’s warning to Monatgu is laced with agreement in earlier lines such as his statement that “So Papists refuse / The Bible to use, / Lest flocks should be as wise as their guide” is an agreement that the neglect of teaching women is wrong, and those in favor for it have used the Bible and religion in the profusion of this belief unjustly (Pope 10-12).  But Pope gives Monatgu a warning in lines 25-30, stating that while women may learn and do well, how much more will those who lead people astray suffer.  Eve is known to have suffered for eating an apple (theological/spiritual connotations aside, it’s a simple act of pluck, bite, and chew), as Pope says with “When only one apple had she,” and that Eve “Hard doom did receive” (Pope 26-27).  “What a punishment new / Shall be found for you / Who tasting have robb’d the whole tree,” he asks Montagu, stating that she knows exactly what she is doing, her actions of rebellion and argumentation with him and the world as a whole (Pope 27-30).  There is a line between rebelling for a righteous cause and rebelling because the world is not doing as you wish.  His warning to her points this out, saying that Eve did one little tiny thing and it caused great harm, but if someone who knows what the potential consequences for for an action are and knows that the consequences outweigh the action, why would that person drag others down with them into something they know is a bad idea for all, be it morally, ethically, intelligently, etc.

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Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s Biography (from Enotes.com)

Montagu was the daughter of Evelyn Pierrepont, the fifth earl and first duke of Kingston. As a child she devised a rigorous academic program for herself, which included writing poetry and learning to speak Latin. In 1712 she eloped with Edward Wortley Montagu. By 1715 they were circulating among prominent social and literary circles in London, where she befriended poets John Gay and Alexander Pope. She accompanied her husband when he was named ambassador to Constantinople in 1716; her subsequent correspondence with London friends became the basis for her famous “Turkish Embassy Letters.” Montagu returned to London in 1718 and for the next two decades presided over high society, which celebrated her sparkling wit and flamboyant behavior. In 1722 she anonymously published an essay arguing for the practice of smallpox inoculation in England, after observing the procedure performed successfully abroad. Around 1722 she also engaged Pope in a bitter, public quarrel that began for unknown reasons and culminated in her Verses Address’d to the Imitator of the First Satire of the Second Book of Horace (1733), which further incensed Pope. In 1736 she met and fell in love with Francesco Algarotti, a young Italian count. She wrote an anonymous feminist periodical, The Nonsense of Common Sense (1937-1938), before she left her husband and England in 1739. For over twenty years Montagu lived abroad mainly in Italy, and wrote many more letters, mostly to her daughter, Lady Bute. Shortly after Montagu returned to England in 1762, she died of cancer.

Alexander Pope’s Biography (from biography.com)

Alexander Pope was born on May 21, 1688 in London, England. He was ill as a child and was left only 4′ 6″ tall with curvature of the spine and was a lifelong sufferer from headaches. Pope was a poet and satirist, best known for his poem The Rape of the Lock and his translation of Homer’s Iliad. His epigrams are some of the most frequently quoted passages in the English language. He died in 1744.

One of Pope’s Poems to Lady Montagu (written between 1713-1717)
  I         IN beauty, or wit,         No mortal as yet To question your empire has dar’d;         But men of discerning         Have thought that in learning,         5 To yield to a lady was hard.   II         Impertinent schools,         With musty dull rules, Have reading to females denied:         So Papists refuse         10         The Bible to use, Lest flocks should be wise as their guide.   III         ’T was a woman at first,         (Indeed she was curst) In Knowledge that tasted delight,         15         And sages agree         The laws should decree To the first possessor the right.   IV         Then bravely, fair Dame,         Resume the old claim,         20 Which to your whole sex does belong;         And let men receive,         From a second bright Eve, The knowledge of right and of wrong.   V         But if the first Eve         25         Hard doom did receive, When only one apple had she,         What a punishment new         Shall be found out for you, Who tasting have robb’d the whole tree?         30  

Letter to Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

18th August 1716.     MADAM—I can say little to recommend the letters I am beginning to write to you, but that they will be the most impartial representations of a free heart, and the truest copies you ever saw, though of a very mean original. Not a feature will be softened, or any advantageous light employed to make the ugly thing a little less hideous, but you shall find it in all respects most horribly like. You will do me an injustice if you look upon anything I shall say from this instant, as a compliment either to you or to myself: whatever I write will be the real thought of that hour, and I know you will no more expect it of me to persevere till death, in every sentiment or notion I now set down, than you would imagine a man’s face should never change after his picture was once drawn.   1
[ . . . ]   2
     3
  You may easily imagine how desirous I must be of correspondence with a person who had taught me so long ago, that it was as possible to esteem at first sight, as to love: and who has since ruined me for all the conversation of one sex, and almost all the friendship of the other. I am but too sensible, through your means, that the company of men wants a certain softness to recommend it, and that of women wants everything else. How often have I been quietly going to take possession of that tranquillity and indolence I had so long found in the country, when one evening of your conversation has spoiled me for a solitaire too! Books have lost their effect upon me; and I was convinced since I saw you, that there is something more powerful than philosophy, and, since I heard you, that there is one alive wiser than all the sages. A plague of female wisdom! It makes a man ten times more uneasy than his own. What is very strange, Virtue herself, when you have the dressing her, is too amiable for one’s repose. What a world of good might you have done in your time, if you had allowed half the fine gentlemen who have seen you to have but conversed with you! They would have been strangely caught, while they thought only to fall in love with a fair face, and you had bewitched them with reason and virtue; two beauties that the very fops pretend to have an acquaintance with.   4
  The unhappy distance at which we correspond, removes a great many of those punctilious restrictions and decorums that oftentimes in nearer conversation prejudice truth to save good breeding. I may now hear of my faults, and you of your good qualities, without a blush on either side. We converse upon such unfortunate generous terms as exclude the regards of fear, shame, or design in either of us. And methinks it would be as ungenerous a part to impose even in a single thought upon each other, in this state of separation, as for spirits of a different sphere, who have so little intercourse with us, to employ that little (as some would make us think they do), in putting tricks and delusions upon poor mortals.   5
  Let me begin, then, madam, by asking you a question, which may enable me to judge better of my own conduct than most instances of my life. In what manner did I behave the last hour I saw you? What degree of concern did I discover when I felt a misfortune, which I hope you never will feel, that of parting from what one most esteems? For if my parting looked but like that of your common acquaintance, I am the greatest of all the hypocrites that ever decency made.   6

Excerpt from “Verses Addressed to the Imitator of
the First Satire of the Second Book
of Horace”

by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu

Edited and annotated by Jack Lynch

Pope and Lady Mary had once been friends. Apparently Lady Mary rejected Pope’s romantic advances, and after that their friendship deteriorated. Pope often attacked her as Sappho; she replied in 1733 with this poem. It may have been cowritten with Lord Hervey, whom Pope attacks as Sporus.

In two large Columns, on thy motly Page,
Where Roman Wit is strip’d with English Rage;
Where Ribaldry to Satire makes pretence,
And modern Scandal rolls with ancient Sense:
Whilst on one side we see how Horace thought, [5]
And on the other, how he never wrote:
Who can believe, who view the bad, the good,
That the dull Copist better understood
That Spirit, he pretends to imitate,
Than heretofore that Greek he did translate? [10]    Thine is just such an Image of his Pen,
As thou thy self art of the Sons of Men,
Where our own Species in Burlesque we trace,
A Sign-Post Likeness of the noble Race,
That is at once Resemblance and Disgrace. [15]    Horace can laugh, is delicate, is clear,
You, only coarsely rail, or darkly sneer;
His Style is elegant, his Diction pure,
Whilst none thy crabbed Numbers can endure;
Hard as thy Heart, and as thy Birth obscure. [20]    If He has Thorns, they all on Roses grow;
Thine like Thistles, and mean Brambles show;
With this Exception, that, tho’ rank the Soil,
Weeds as they are, they seem produc’d by Toil.    Satire shoud, like a polish’d Razor keen, [25]
Wound with a Touch, that’s scarcely felt or seen.
Thine is an Oyster-Knife, that hacks and hews;
The Rage, but not the Talent of Abuse;
And is in Hate, what Love is in the Stews.
‘Tis the gross Lust of Hate, that still annoys, [30]
Without distinction, as gross Love enjoys:
Neither to Folly, nor to Vice confin’d,
The Object of thy Spleen is Human Kind:
It preys on all, who yield, or who resist:
To Thee ’tis Provocation to exist. [35]    But if thou see’st a great and gen’rous Heart,
Thy Bow is doubly bent to force a Dart.
Nor Dignity nor Innocence is spar’d,
Nor Age, nor Sex, nor Thrones, nor Graves, rever’d.
Not only Justice vainly we demand, [40]
But even Benefits can’t rein thy Hand:
To this or that alike in vain we trust,
Nor find Thee less Ungrateful than Unjust.