The Conscious Lovers

“Your aid most humbly sought, then, Britons lend,

And lib’ral mirth like lib’ral men defend.

No more let ribaldry, with license writ,

Usurp the name of eloquence or wit;

No more let lawless farce uncensured go,

The lewd dull gleanings of a Smithfield show. 

‘Tis yours with breeding to refine the age,

To chasten wit, and moralize the stage.

Ye modest, wise and good, ye fair, ye brave,

Tonight the champion of your virtues save;

Redeem from long contempt the comic name,

And judge politely for your country’s fame.”

The Prologue, spoken by the actor playing Myrtle, asks that the audience join Steele in rejecting the “ribaldry” and “license” of earlier Restoration comedies. Instead, Steele wants wit without sexual explicitness, and he calls on the audience to equate England with the morality he wrote into the play.

“SIR JOHN SIR BEVIL. Thou hast a brave constitution; you are a year or two older than I am, sirrah.

HUMPHREY. You have ever been of that mind, sir.

SIR JOHN SIR BEVIL. You knave, you know it; I took thee for thy gravity and sobriety, in my wild years.

HUMPHREY. Ah, sir, our manners were formed from our different fortunes, not our different age. Wealth gave a loose to your youth, and poverty put a restraint upon mine.

SIR JOHN SIR BEVIL. Well, Humphry, you know I have been a kind master to you; I have used you, for the ingenuous nature I observed in you from the beginning, more like an humble friend than a servant.”

Sir Bevil recounts how he was a libertine in his youth, and how Humphrey helped him to overcome his excessive lifestyle. This backstory marks Sir Bevil as representing the transition in morals that Steele wanted to push into the culture via his sentimental comedies: While the past was full of profligate behavioral models, Steele’s contemporaries should put that kind of lifestyle aside in favor of a more sober approach. Additionally, Humphrey’s comment about wealth serves to highlight the distinction between the options available to the different classes.

“TOM. Nay, sir, our order is carried up to the highest dignities and distinctions; step but into the Painted Chamber, and by our titles you’d take us all for men of quality. Then, again, come down to the Court of Requests, and you see us all laying our broken heads together for the good of the nation; and though we never carry a question nemine contradicente, yet this I can say, with a safe conscience—and I wish every gentleman of our cloth could lay his hand upon his heart and say the same—that I never took so much as a single mug of beer for my vote in all my life.”

Tom’s insistence to Humphrey is that servants are now almost able to pass for nobility, both by dressing in the same style and by imitating their employers’ manners. Tom’s joke is that while he might be misbehaving by thus falsifying his status, at least he has never sold his vote for a “mug of beer”—unlike real gentlemen, whose landowner status confers on them the right to vote, and also the ability to vote in exchange for bribery, Tom’s fake nobility does not imperil the country or besmirch democracy.

“TOM. What? A sad thing to walk? Why, Madame Phillis, do you wish yourself lame?

PHILLIS. No, Mr. Tom, but I wish I were generally carried in a coach or chair, and of a fortune neither to stand nor go, but to totter, or slide, to be short-sighted, or stare, to fleer in the face, to look distant, to observe, to overlook, yet all become me; and, if I was rich, I could twire and loll as well as the best of them. Oh, Tom! Tom! is it not a pity that you should be so great a coxcomb, and I so great a coquet, and yet be such poor devils as we are?”

Tom reframes his poverty as something to be enjoyed—here, he suggests that they walk because it improves mobility and health, rather than the because they cannot afford a carriage. In contrast, Phillis imagines how money could improve their lives, giving them the leeway to make the same kinds of pointless movements that the wealthy do—“to totter, or slide”—or even to make mistakes without life-long problems—“to be short-sighted” and “to overlook.” Phillis believes that she and Tom have personalities that perfectly fit this kind of lifestyle: He is “so great a coxcomb,” or man-about-town, and she is “so great a coquet,” or flirtatious and intriguing socialite. Her discontent is that they must work for other people, rather than living to their full potential.

“BEVIL JR. These moral writers practice virtue after death. This charming Vision of Mizah! Such an author consulted in a morning sets the spirit for the vicissitudes of the day better than the glass does a man’s person. But what a day have I to go through! to put on an easy look with an aching heart—if this lady my father urges me to marry should not refuse me, my dilemma is insupportable. But why should I fear it? Is not she in equal distress with me? Has not the letter I have sent her this morning confessed my inclination to another? Nay, have I not moral assurances of her engagements, too, to my friend Myrtle? It’s impossible but she must give in to it; for, sure, to be denied is a favor any man may pretend to. It must be so. Well, then, with the assurance of being rejected, I think I may confidently say to my father, I am ready to marry her. Then let me resolve upon, what I am not very good at, though it is an honest dissimulation.”

Bevil Jr.’s morning reading puts him into a meditation about ethics. The Vision of Mizrah (1711), by English essayist Joseph Addison, is an allegory of the human experience as a bridge, crossing which is rife with unseen dangers. Bevil Jr. finds it beneficial to read this kind of didactic inspiration in the mornings, but it gets him no closer to resolving his dilemmas with his father, Myrtle, Lucinda, and Indiana. Nevertheless, considering Addison’s utopia is better than the kind of navel-gazing available by contemplating “the glass,” or a mirror. In the end, though, he decides to perform an “honest dissimulation,” meaning he will not be entirely truthful with the other characters—an unlikely takeaway from Addison’s moral tale.

“BEVIL JR. Pardon me, sir, I shall transgress that way no more. She has understanding, beauty, shape, complexion, wit——

MYRTLE. Nay, dear Sir Bevil, don’t speak of her as if you loved her, neither.

BEVIL JR. Why then, to give you ease at once, though I allow Lucinda to have good sense, wit, beauty, and virtue, I know another in whom these qualities appear to me more amiable than in her.

MYRTLE. There you spoke like a reasonable and good-natured friend. When you acknowledge her merit, and own your prepossession for another, at once you gratify my fondness and cure my jealousy.”

This conversation highlights how Bevil Jr. is intent on maintaining the peace despite the intricate web of conflicts in the play. It also shows Myrtle’s emotional instability, caused by his frustrated pursuit of Lucinda. First, Bevil Jr. rejects Lucinda, then compliments her, and finally compliments her while expressing his greater interest in Indiana. No matter what Bevil Jr. says, however, Myrtle remains jealous; even after this rapprochement, Myrtle is only “cured” temporarily.

“ISABELLA. Heigh ho, indeed. It is better to say so as you are now than as many others are. There are, among the destroyers of women, the gentle, the generous, the mild, the affable, the humble, who all, soon after their success in their designs, turn to the contrary of those characters. I will own to you, Mr. Sir Bevil carries his hypocrisy the best of any man living, but still he is a man and therefore a hypocrite. They have usurped an exemption from shame for any baseness, any cruelty towards us. They embrace without love; they make vows without conscience of obligation; they are partners, nay, seducers to the crime, wherein they pretend to be less guilty.”

Isabella’s scathing critique of men reflects Steele’s concerns about the way libertinism was promoted in earlier Restoration works, which feature characters who relish seducing and abandoning women for fun—like Wilmore in Aphra Behn’s comedy The Rover. Isabella’s fear is that Bevil Jr. is only financially maintaining Indiana with the aim of having sex with her without marrying her. Indiana, on the other hand, is more concerned that Bevil Jr. does not have any romantic or sexual interest in her.

“BEVIL JR. That he sees satisfaction, health, and gladness in her countenance, while he enjoys the happiness of seeing her—as that I will suppose too, or he must be too abstracted, too insensible. I say, if he is allowed to delight in that prospect; alas, what mighty matter is there in all this?

INDIANA. No mighty matter in so disinterested a friendship!

BEVIL JR. Disinterested! I can’t think him so. Your hero, madam, is no more than what every gentleman ought to be, and I believe very many are. He is only one who takes more delight in reflections than in sensations. He is more pleased with thinking than eating; that’s the utmost you can say of him. Why, madam, a greater expense than all this, men lay out upon an unnecessary stable of horses.”

In trying to convince Indiana that he has no ulterior motive in helping her and Isabella, Bevil Jr. inadvertently makes it seem as though he has no interest in Indiana at all. His elaboration on how some men enjoy the abstract pleasures of life more than the physical only serves to distance him from the sexual and romantic love Indiana wants from him. Her exclamation highlights the difference between being “disinterested”—that is, without a selfish motivation or stake in the outcome—and “uninterested”—meaning, unlikely to return Indiana’s attraction or affection. For Indiana, Bevil Jr.’s response, though noble, is disappointing.

“TOM. What a work have I to do now? She has seen some new visitant at their house whose airs she has caught and is resolved to practice them upon me. Numberless are the changes she’ll dance through before she’ll answer this plain question, videlicet, have you delivered my master’s letter to your lady? Nay, I know her too well to ask an account of it in an ordinary way; I’ll be in my airs as well as she.”

When Tom sees Phillis, he assumes she has learned some new affectation from a visitor to the Sealand house. This accusation is also an admission, as Tom has already noted how he copies the behaviors of gentlemen he meets, and, since he knows his performances are a form of deception, he assumes Phillis intends to interfere with his goals. His response, though, is to increase his own “airs,” or performance of nobility, to try to win a fictional competition with Phillis. This scene both highlights Tom’s foolishness and the degree to which the servants in the play mimic the conflicts of their employers.

“TOM. This was well done, my dearest. Consider, we must strike out some pretty livelihood for ourselves by closing their affairs. It will be nothing for them to give us a little being of our own, some small tenement, out of their large possessions. Whatever they give us, it will be more than what they keep for themselves. One acre with Phillis would be worth a whole county without her.

PHILLIS. O, could I but believe you!

TOM. If not the utterance, believe the touch of my lips. [Kisses her.]”

The romantic plans Tom and Phillis make reflect their lack of agency due to their class, reflecting The Impact of Social Standing on Prospects. Because they cannot afford to simply move away and live together, Tom’s hope is that he and Phillis can secure some property as a reward for helping Lucinda and Bevil Jr. Tom adds that such a gift would be nothing to their wealthy masters, highlighting the gap in ownership and agency between the classes. In the end, their agreement is sealed with a kiss, which Phillis then explains to Lucinda as a form of contract available when one has no money.

“LUCINDA. But I thought I heard him kiss you. Why do you suffer that?

PHILLIS. Why, madam, we vulgar take it to be a sign of love. We servants, we poor people, that have nothing but our persons to bestow or treat for, are forced to deal and bargain by way of sample, and therefore as we have no parchments or wax necessary in our agreements, we squeeze with our hands and seal with our lips, to ratify vows and promises.

LUCINDA. But can’t you trust one another without such earnest down?

PHILLIS. We don’t think it safe, any more than you gentry, to come together without deeds executed.”

Phillis makes multiple plays on words in this passage, such as “seal” and “deeds.” The seal Phillis refers to is a kiss—unlike the official wax seals used to secure documents. The “deed” is a euphemism for sexual contact, as opposed to the deeds that mark ownership. For Lucinda, physical love can only follow the legal guarantee of marriage, while, for Phillis, physical love is itself a guarantee. In a sense, Phillis’s argument is that, for the lower classes, there is no financial risk in an affair, unlike the upper classes who need to worry about social reputations and credit.

“LUCINDA. Pray, don’t talk of me thus.

CIMBERTON. The pretty enough—pant of her bosom.

LUCINDA. Sir! madam, don’t you hear him?

CIMBERTON. Her forward chest.

LUCINDA. Intolerable!

CIMBERTON. High health.

LUCINDA. The grave, easy impudence of him!

CIMBERTON. Proud heart.

LUCINDA. Stupid coxcomb!

CIMBERTON. I say, madam, her impatience, while we are looking at her, throws out all 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.”

When Cimberton meets Lucinda, he does not address her. Instead, he approaches her and examines her body, commenting to Mrs. Sealand on the features he likes and dislikes. Lucinda, of course, is offended by this, resulting in her declaration: “I have no veins, no arteries.” This exclamation reflects the desire for disembodiment she feels in this moment of pure objectification. Cimberton has entirely ignored her as a person; he sees her only as a beautiful object, a source of wealth, and a vessel for his future children. Mrs. Sealand, cementing the social acceptability of Cimberton’s perspective, tells Lucinda to stop talking altogether and trust Cimberton’s appraisal.

“BEVIL JR. Did he ask you no other questions?

TOM. Yes sir, now I remember, as we came away in the hackney coach from Sealand’s, ‘Tom,’ says he, ‘as I came in to your master this morning, he bade you go for an answer to a letter he had sent. Pray did you bring him any?’ says he. ‘Ah!’ says I, ‘Sir, your honor is pleased to joke with me; you have a mind to know whether I can keep a secret or no?’

BEVIL JR. And so, by showing him you could, you told him you had one?”

Tom thinks he cleverly threw Myrtle off the scent of Bevil Jr.’s letters with Lucinda. However, Bevil Jr., however, shows that Tom actually revealed the existence of the secret letters by implying he understood what Myrtle was trying to get out of him. As Tom failed to truly outwit Myrtle, Bevil Jr. retains his superior position in the play while exposing Tom’s arrogance.

“BEVIL JR. Thus has this lady made me her friend and confident and put herself in a kind under my protection. I cannot tell him immediately the purport of her letter, except I could cure him of the violent and untractable passion of jealousy, and so serve him, and her, by disobeying her, in the article of secrecy, more than I should by complying with her directions. But then this dueling, which custom has imposed upon every man who would live with reputation and honor in the world—how must I preserve myself from imputations there? He’ll, forsooth, call it or think it fear, if I explain without fighting.”

Bevil Jr. explores his options regarding his conflicting obligations toward Lucinda and Myrtle. Bevil Jr. should keep Lucinda’s secrets, hiding that although they are affianced, she has no interest in marrying him; he must also avoid any outright conflict with his friend Myrtle, who is deeply suspicious of any contact between Lucinda and Bevil Jr. The catch-22 is that Bevil Jr. can only fully resolve the conflict with Myrtle by fighting, which he notes is necessary to avoid earning a reputation as a coward, or by revealing the contents of Lucinda’s letter. Thus, Bevil Jr. needs to risk his life or his integrity.

“MYRTLE. This cool manner is very agreeable to the abuse you have already made of my simplicity and frankness; and I see your moderation tends to your own advantage and not mine, to your own safety, not consideration of your friend.

BEVIL JR. My own safety, Mr. Myrtle!

MYRTLE. Your own safety, Mr. Sir Bevil.

BEVIL JR. Look you, Mr. Myrtle, there’s no disguising that I understand what you would be at, but, sir, you know, I have often dared to disapprove of the decisions a tyrant custom has introduced to the breach of all laws both divine and human.”

Myrtle criticizes Bevil Jr.’s Calm Restraint in Love and Friendship as evidence that he does not care about the injury of honor he has inflicted on Myrtle; Myrtle also assumes that Bevil Jr. is keeping his composure to fight better, rather than to preserve their friendship. Bevil Jr. is offended: Myrtle knows that Bevil Jr.—here the voice of Steele himself—opposes the practice of dueling altogether. This passage contrasts Bevil Jr.’s internal conflict with his external desire to maintain peace, and juxtaposes Bevil Jr.’s level-headedness with Myrtle’s irrational jealousy.

“BEVIL JR. I have, thank Heaven, had time to recollect myself, and shall not, for fear of what such a rash man as you think of me, keep longer unexplained the false appearances under which your infirmity of temper makes you suffer, when, perhaps, too much regard to a false point of honor makes me prolong that suffering.

MYRTLE. I am sure Mr. Sir Bevil cannot doubt but I had rather have satisfaction from his innocence than his sword.

BEVIL JR. Why then would you ask it first that way?

MYRTLE. Consider, you kept your temper yourself no longer than till I spoke to the disadvantage of her you loved.”

This passage is the play’s climactic moral moment, in which Bevil Jr. recovers his equanimity and approaches his conflict with Myrtle without violence. He asks why Myrtle would challenge him, since even Myrtle admits he would prefer to remain friends. Myrtle turns the focus back to Bevil Jr., noting how Bevil Jr. became enraged, as well, once Myrtle implicated Indiana. Steele’s point is that all men instinctively experience anger when they perceive some betrayal or insult, but he wants to show how honor can be restored without resorting to armed conflict.

“SIR JOHN SIR BEVIL. Were what you suspect a truth, do you design to keep your daughter a virgin till you find a man unblemished that way?

SEALAND. Sir, as much a cit as you take me for, I know the town and the world. And give me leave to say, that we merchants are a species of gentry that have grown into the world this last century, and are as honorable, and almost as useful, as you landed folks, that have always thought yourselves so much above us; for your trading, forsooth, is extended no farther than a load of hay or a fat ox. You are pleasant people, indeed, because you are generally bred up to be lazy; therefore, I warrant you, industry is dishonorable.”

Sealand believes that nobles have affairs not out of lust, but because they know they can. His argument is that what Sir Bevil thinks of as honorable does not exclude vices that the middle class finds abhorrent; Sealand notes the distinction between the unemployed aristocracy, whose wealth is inherited or based in land ownership, and the industrious members of the merchant class, who earn a living through business or trade. It follows then that nobles perceive hard work as dishonorable—a bias that bothers Sealand more than the idea of Bevil Jr. having sex before marriage, as Sir Bevil implies.

“MYRTLE. I have not seen you, Cousin Cimberton, since you were ten years old, and as it is incumbent on you to keep up our name and family, I shall upon very reasonable terms, join with you in a settlement to that purpose. Though I must tell you, cousin, this is the first merchant that has married into our house.

LUCINDA. [aside] Deuce on ‘em! Am I a merchant because my father is?

MYRTLE. But is he directly a trader at this time?

CIMBERTON. There’s no hiding the disgrace, sir; he trades to all parts of the world.”

Playing on Cimberton’s prejudices, Myrtle (disguised as Sir Geoffry) points out that by marrying Lucinda, Cimberton will be connecting their “ancient house,” or aristocratic family, to one from the merchant class. Even Lucinda has internalized this class bias, as she is frustrated that the men cannot separate her from her father’s tradesman status. Taking Myrtle’s bait, Cimberton calls aristocratic families marrying into those without noble birth for mercenary reasons a “disgrace,” implying that marrying Lucinda is more of a risk than a reward, despite her sizable fortune.

“SEALAND. Why, sirrah, though you are a country boy, you can see, can’t you? You know whether she is at home when you see her, don’t you?

BOY. Nay, nay, I’m not such a country lad neither, master, to think she’s at home because I see her. I have been in town but a month, and I lost one place already for believing my own eyes.

SEALAND. Why, sirrah! have you learnt to lie already?

BOY. Ah, master, things that are lies in the country are not lies at London—I begin to know my business a little better than so.”

Daniel, the boy who works for Isabella and Indiana, hesitates to confirm whether his employers are at home to visitors, which Sealand sees as a lie. The issue is one of social etiquette: There is a difference in upper class circles between physically being inside one’s house and being available to visitors. Sealand is correct that, literally speaking, Indiana is either home or not, and Daniel should know which is the case. However, Daniel highlights how society does not appreciate frank honesty, noting that he lost his previous job by confirming that his prior employer was at home when they did not want to entertain guests. Steele calls attention to class difference implied in the distinction between honesty and politeness.

“INDIANA. His actions, sir, his eyes have only made me think he designed to make me the partner of his heart. The goodness and gentleness of his demeanor made me misinterpret all. ‘Twas my own hope, my own passion, that deluded me; he never made one amorous advance to me. His large heart, and bestowing hand, have only helped the miserable; nor know I why, but from his mere delight in virtue that I have been his care and the object on which to indulge and please himself with pouring favors.”

Indiana does not know how to accurately represent her relationship with Bevil Jr. to Sealand. While she believes that “his eyes” show that he wants her as “the partner of his heart,” he has never spoken to her of being anything other than her disinterested benefactor. Indiana’s perception of Bevil Jr. as a suitor undermines Bevil Jr.’s insistence that he never promised Indiana anything explicitly, which, in his mind, absolves him of any guilt—a complicated scenario that highlights the benefits of Honesty and Integrity in Relationships. Indiana expresses her sincere hurt and disappointment to Sealand, showing how Bevil Jr.’s behavior has had more impact than he realized.

“CIMBERTON. I hope, sir, your lady has concealed nothing from me?

SEALAND. Troth, sir, nothing but what was concealed from myself—another daughter, who has an undoubted title to half my estate.

CIMBERTON. How, Sealand! Why then if half Mrs. Lucinda’s fortune is gone, you can’t say that any of my estate is settled upon her. I was in treaty for the whole, but if that is not to be come at, to be sure, there can be no bargain. Sir, I have nothing to do but take my leave of your good lady, my cousin, and beg pardon for the trouble I have given this old gentleman.”

When Indiana’s true parentage is revealed, Sealand knows that she deserves half of his fortune, which therefore cuts Lucinda’s fortune in half. Ironically, Sealand never wanted Cimberton to marry Lucinda, so his reward from “Providence,” in addition to finding his daughter, is the easy removal of Cimberton. Cimberton’s justification for leaving shows his true mercenary intentions.

“MYRTLE. We have much more than we want, and I am glad any event has contributed to the discovery of our real inclinations to each other.

MRS. SEALAND. [aside] Well! However I’m glad the girl’s disposed of any way.

BEVIL JR. Myrtle! No longer rivals now, but brothers!

MYRTLE. Dear Sir Bevil! You are born to triumph over me! But now our competition ceases. I rejoice in the pre-eminence of your virtue and your alliance adds charms to Lucinda.

SIR JOHN SIR BEVIL. Now, ladies and gentlemen, you have set the world a fair example. Your happiness is owing to your constancy and merit, and the several difficulties you have struggled with evidently show

Whate’er the generous mind itself denies,

The secret care of Providence supplies.”

The conclusion of the play confirms its generic designation as a comedy in the older sense of having a happy ending: With their parents’ consent, Bevil Jr. marries Indiana, and Lucinda marries Myrtle; also, Bevil Jr. and Myrtle rejoin their friendship. Sir John Sir Bevil’s concluding remarks explicitly note that characters who behaved morally are now rewarded by Providence, or divine will. This didactic ending is a moral lesson; Steele wants his play to “set the world a fair example,” calling back to his Preface and Prologue, in which he set out to create a model for English morality in theater.

“Not like his Sir Bevil—coolly waits his season,

And traps determined courage into reason;

Nor loves like him, poor soul, confined to one!

And is at vast expense—for nothing done!

To pass whole days alone and never meddle,

Treat her with senseless solo—on the fiddle!

And all this chaste restraint, forsooth, to flow

From strait obedience to a father due!

T’have shown his modern breeding, he should rather

Not have obeyed, but bit the put, his father;

Or in compliance to his daddy’s courting,

Have starved his dear, and fairly took the fortune.

But to maintain her, and not let her know it—

Oh! the wild—crack-brained notions of a poet!

What though his hero never loved before,

He might have, sure, done less for her—or more.”

Indiana examines Bevil Jr.’s behavior in the play, concluding that his plan was precisely the kind of martyrdom Steele designed it to be. He neither fully obeyed his father nor fully expressed his love for Indiana, leaving him in a challenging middle ground. However, had Bevil Jr. either disobeyed his father to be with Indiana, or forsaken Indiana to obey his father, he would have been more true to himself that his “honest dissimulation” allowed him to be.