Oh those dirty 18th century poets. I honestly had no idea. Forget Restoration Poetry, this unit should
have been called Shock and Awe.
The first poet threw me off a bit. “The Virgin” was so didactic and prescriptive. The singsong lyricism of Katherine Philips’ rhyming couplets merged with the moralizing content of the poem to produce a kind of catechism to be recited by proper young ladies who hoped to please prospective husbands. I found myself deeply pitying the poor girls who followed Ms. Philips instructions to become perfectly boring, with “conversation, at once, free/ from Passion, and from Subtlety” (Demaria 253). What kind of girl aspires to “prudent negligence” (Demaria 253)? After reading “The Virgin” and “Parting with Lucasia, A Song”, I was convinced that they were the product of a society that highly valued virtue and moral rectitude, and which believed strongly in the perfectability of the self. Most of all I came away with the strong opinion that women of the so called “Age of Experience” had genitals for only one reason (and not one that would particularly interest Sir Wilmot).
Aphra Behn, on the other hand, was a welcome breath of fresh ribaldry. Far from the speaker in “Parting with Lucasia”, Cloris succumbs to the sticky sweet temptations of the flesh. Although she remains a more or less passive participant in the thicket shanannigans, laying “half dead and breathless”, with “soft eyes”, “a victim to Love’s Sacred Flame”, Cloris none the less participates. All to often in paternal cultures the reality of female sexualty is absent. Add to this that Behn uses Lysander as the name for her amourous shepherd and I think there is a good case to be made
for “The Disappointment” as a dig at male dominated society. Lysander was a pretty major Greek general during the persian wars. His story is one of those featured in Plutarch’s Lives, so it is reasonable to assume that Behn would have been aware of him given her familiarity with that other A-list Latin author, Ovid. Given the martial prowess of his namesake, Lysander’s inability to “perform the sacrifice”, immasculates the whole heroic tradition.
My question of the day is this: why does Cloris recoil the way that she does?
And then there is the Second Earl of Rochestor, John Wilmot. It wouldn’t surprise me at all to learn that this man died from an STD he contracted while composing the sequel to “The Imperfect Enjoyment”. Beyond its shock value, however, I found Wilmot’s poems fairly thin. Their wit is undeniable, but it is all punch line and no impact. “Singior Dildo” became tiresome after a while. I could imagine it scrawled on the inside of a toilet stall in the Cockpit playhouse and all the gentlemen of the audience getting a good laugh at the expense of the society women Wilmot names. This sense of the ‘old boys club’ pervades Wilmot’s writing. One can picture him, drunk at a party, being asked to recite, consertedly pushing the prostitute off of his lap so he can stand, swaying, and say the king’s “Scepter and his Prick are of a length” (Demaria 351).

