The Conscious Lovers and that guy in a trench coat in the corner

The Conscious Lovers and that guy in a trench coat in the corner

Richard Steele’s (do you think people ever called him “Dick”? Dick Steele? Just wondering) 1722 play basically inaugurating sentimental comedy as a self-consciously new major form and backlash against Restoration comedies. Perfectly benevolent characters, sententious dialogue, improbable happy ending (famous reunion between pathetic heroine and father). Kind of a yawn-fest if we’re being real here.

Except for this one guy. Cimberton. He’s Lucinda Sealand’s mother’s cousin (the mother wants Lucinda to marry him–she thinks he’s so intellectual), and basically a pedantic materialist creep who views Lucinda as livestock with a lot of money.

At first he doesn’t notice Lucinda at all, but when he does, he turns into an incredible lecher:

Cimberton: Ay, the vermilion of her lips.

Lucinda: Pray, don’t talk of me thus.

Cimberton: The pretty enough–pant of her bosom.

Lucinda: Sir! Madam [i.e. Mother], don’t you hear him?

Cimberton: Her forward chest.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Cimberton: I say, madam, her impatience while we are looking at her throws out all her attractions–her arms–her neck–what a spring in her step!

Lucinda: Don’t you run me over thus, you strange unaccountable!

Cimberton: What an elasticity in her veins and arteries!

Lucinda: I have no veins, no arteries.

Mrs. Sealand: Oh, child, hear him, he talks finely, he’s a scholar, he knows what you have.

FUCK YES that is amazing. “I have no veins, no arteries.” I can only hope one day I get to say something as classic as that.

Cimberton: The speaking invitation of her shape, the gathering of herself up, and the indignation you see in the pretty little thing–now I am considering her on this occasion but as one that is to be pregnant.

Lucinda (aside): The familiar, learned, unseasonable puppy!

Cimberton: And pregnant undoubtedly she will be yearly. I fear I shan’t for many years have discretion enough to give her one fallow season.

I’m sorry if I just made you throw up all over the place. After I read that line for the first time I felt like I needed a long, boiling-hot shower. Seriously, though, I know it goes way beyond “creepy”–it’s deeply rape-y, it’s objectification in the extreme, it makes her an animal, and also, it’s in front of her mother, ew–but it’s also magnificently creepy.

Creep studies—is that a thing? Can that be MY thing? Can I write my dissertation on creeps? You know, it’s moments like this that I remember both why I’m in grad school and why I will ultimately never succeed in grad school.

Anyway, then Cimberton mentions his one concern to Lucinda’s mother (for which she genuinely praises him):

Cimberton: I marry to have an heir to my estate and not to beget a colony or a plantation. This young woman’s beauty and constitution will demand provision for a tenth child at least.

Mrs. Sealand (aside): With all that wit and learning, how considerate! What an economist!

*slow clap*


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