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The Life and Romances of Mrs. Eliza Haywood by George Frisbie Whicher
The Life and Romances of Mrs. Eliza Haywood by George Frisbie Whicher
Autobiography was almost the only form of writing not attempted by Eliza Haywood in the course of her long career as an adventuress in letters. Unlike Mme de Villedieu or Mrs. Manley she did not publish the story of her life romantically disguised as the Secret History of Eliza, nor was there One of the Fair Sex (real or pretended) to chronicle her "strange and surprising adventures" or to print her passion-stirring epistles, as had happened with Mrs. Aphra Behn's fictitious exploits and amorous correspondence[1]. Indeed the first biographer of Mrs.
Haywood[2] hints that "from a supposition of some improper liberties being taken with her character after death by the intermixture of truth and falsehood with her history," the apprehensive dame had herself suppressed the facts of her life by laying a "solemn injunction on a person who was well acquainted with all the particulars of it, not to communicate to any one the least circumstance relating to her." The success of her precaution is evident in the scantiness of our information about her. The few details recorded in the "Biographia Dramatica" can be amplified only by a tissue of probabilities. Consequently Mrs. Haywood's one resemblance to Shakespeare is the obscurity that covers the events of her life.
She was born in London, probably in 1693, and her father, a man by the name of Fowler, was a small shop-keeper.[3] She speaks vaguely of having received an education beyond that afforded to the generality of her sex. Her marriage to Valentine Haywood,[4] a clergyman at least fifteen years older than his spouse, took place before she was twenty, for the Register of St. Mary Aldermary records on 3 December, 1711, the christening of Charles, son of Valentine Haywood, clerk, and Elizabeth his wife. Her husband held at this time a small living in Norfolk, and had recently been appointed lecturer of St. Mathews, Friday Street. Whether the worthy cleric resided altogether in London and discharged his duties in the country by proxy, or whether Mrs. Haywood, like Tristram Shandy's mother, enjoyed the privilege of coming to town only on certain interesting occasions, are questions which curious research fails to satisfy. At any rate, one of the two children assigned to her by tradition was born, as we have seen, in London.
No other manifestation of their nuptial happiness appeared until 7 January, 1721, on which date the "Post Boy" contained an Advertisement of the elopement of Mrs. Eliz. Haywood, wife of Rev. Valentine Haywood.[5] The causes of Eliza's flight are unknown. Our only knowledge of her temperament in her early life comes from a remark by Nichols that the character of Sappho in the "Tatler"[6] may be "assigned with ...probability and confidence, to Mrs. Elizabeth Heywood, who ...was in all respects just such a character as is exhibited here." Sappho is described by Steele as "a fine lady, who writes verses, sings, dances, and can say and do whatever she pleases, without the imputation of any thing that can injure her character; for she is so well known to have no passion but self-love, or folly but affectation, that now, upon any occasion, they only cry, 'It is her way!' and 'That is so like her!' without farther reflection." She quotes a "wonderfully just" passage from Milton, calls a licentious speech from Dryden's "State of Innocence" an "odious thing," and says "a thousand good things at random, but so strangely mixed, that you would be apt to say, all her wit is mere good luck, and not the effect of reason and judgment." In the second paper Sappho quotes examples of generous love from Suckling and Milton, but takes offence at a letter containing some sarcastic remarks on married women. We know that Steele was personally acquainted with Mrs. Manley, and it is possible that he knew Mrs. Haywood, since she later dedicated a novel to him. With some reservation, then, we may accept this sketch as a fair likeness. As a young matron of seventeen or eighteen she was evidently a lively, unconventional, opinionated gadabout fond of the company of similar She-romps, who exchanged verses and specimen letters with the lesser celebrities of the literary world and perpetuated the stilted romantic traditions of the Matchless Orinda and her circle. A woman of her independence of mind, we may imagine, could not readily submit to the authority of an arbitrary, orthodox clergyman husband.
Mrs. Haywood's writings are full of the most lively scenes of marital infelicity due to causes ranging from theological disputes to flagrant licentiousness. Her enemies were not so charitable as to attribute her flight from her husband to any reason so innocent as incompatibility of temper or discrepancy of religious views. The position of ex-wife was neither understood nor tolerated by contemporary society. In the words of a favorite quotation from "Jane Shore":
"But if weak Woman chance to go astray,
If strongly charm'd she leave the thorny Way,
And in the softer Paths of Pleasure stray,
Ruin ensues, Reproach and endless Shame;
And one false Step entirely damns her Fame:
In vain, with Tears, the Loss she may deplore,
In vain look back to what she was before,
She sets, like Stars that fall, to rise no more!"
Eliza Haywood, however, after leaving the thorny way of matrimony, failed to carry out the laureate's metaphor. Having less of the fallen star in her than Mr. Rowe imagined, and perhaps more of the hen, she refused to set, but resolutely faced the world, and in spite of all rules of decorum, tried to earn a living for herself and her two children, if indeed as Pope's slander implies, she had children to support.
The ways in which a woman could win her bread outside the pale of matrimony were extremely limited. A stage career, connected with a certain degree of infamy, had been open to the sex since Restoration times, and writing for the theatre had been successfully practiced by Mrs. Behn, Mrs. Manley, Mrs. Centlivre, Mrs. Pix, and Mrs. Davys. The first two female playwrights mentioned had produced beside their dramatic works a number of pieces of fiction, and Mrs. Mary Hearne, Mrs. Jane Barker, and Mrs. Sarah Butler had already gained a milder notoriety as romancières. Poetry, always the elegant amusement of polite persons, had not yet proved profitable enough to sustain a woman of letters. Eliza Haywood was sufficiently catholic in her taste to attempt all these means of gaining reputation and a livelihood, and tried in addition a short-lived experiment as a publisher. Beside these literary pursuits we know not what obscure means for support she may have found from time to time.
Her first thought, however, was apparently of the theatre, where she had already made her debut on the stage of the playhouse in Smock Alley (Orange Street), Dublin during the season of 1715, as Chloe in "Timon of Athens; or, the Man-Hater."[7] One scans the dramatis personae of "Timon" in vain for the character of Chloe, until one recalls that the eighteenth century had no liking for Shakespeare undefiled. The version used by the Theatre Royal was, of course, the adaptation by Thomas Shadwell, in which Chloe appears chiefly in Acts II and III as the maid and confidant of the courtesan Melissa. Both parts were added by Og. The r?le of Cleon was taken by Quin, later an interpreter of Mrs. Haywood's own plays. But if she formed a connection with either of the London theatres after leaving her husband, the engagement was soon broken off, and her subsequent appearances as an actress in her comedy of "A Wife to be Lett" (1723) and in Hatchett's "Rival Father" (1730) were due in the one case to an accident and in the other to her friendship for the playwright.
She herself, according to the "Biographia Dramatica," when young "dabbled in dramatic poetry; but with no great success." The first of her plays, a tragedy entitled "The Fair Captive," was acted the traditional three times at Lincoln's Inn Fields, beginning 4 March, 1721.[8] Aaron Hill contributed a friendly epilogue. Quin took the part of Mustapha, the despotic vizier, and Mrs. Seymour played the heroine. On 16 November it was presented a fourth time for the author's benefit,[9] then allowed to die. Shortly after the first performance the printed copy made its appearance. In the "Advertisement to the Reader" Mrs. Haywood exposes the circumstances of her turning playwright, na?vely announcing:
"To attempt any thing in Vindication of the following Scenes, wou'd cost me more Time than the Composing 'em took me up...
"This Tragedy was originally writ by Capt. Hurst, and by him deliver'd to Mr. Rich, to be acted soon after the opening of the New House;[10] but the Season being a little too far elaps'd for the bringing it on then, and the Author oblig'd to leave the Kingdom, Mr. Rich became the Purchaser of it, and the Winter following order'd it into Rehearsal: but found it so unfit for Representation, that for a long time he laid aside all thoughts of making any thing of it, till last January he gave me the History of his Bargain, and made me some Proposals concerning the new modelling it: but however I was prevail'd upon, I cannot say my Inclination had much share in my Consent.... On Reading, I found I had much more to do than I expected; every Character I was oblig'd to find employment for, introduce one entirely new, without which it had been impossible to have guessed at the Design of the Play; and in fine, change the Diction so wholly, that, excepting in the Parts of Alphonso and Isabella, there remains not twenty lines of the Original."
The plot, which is too involved to be analyzed, centers about the efforts of Alphonso to redeem his beloved Isabella from, the harem of the Vizier Mustapha. Spaniards, Turks, keepers and inhabitants of the harem, and a "young lady disguis'd in the habit of an Eunuch," mingle in inextricable intrigue. Some of the worst absurdities and the most bathetic lines occur in the parts of the two lovers for which Mrs. Haywood disclaims responsibility, but even the best passages of the play add nothing to the credit of the reviser. Her next dramatic venture was produced after her novels had gained some vogue with the town, as the Prologue spoken by Mr. Theophilus Cibber indicates.
"Criticks! be dumb tonight-no Skill display;
A dangerous Woman-Poet wrote the Play: ...
Measure her Force, by her known Novels, writ
With manly Vigour, and with Woman's wit.
Then tremble, and depend, if ye beset her,
She, who can talk so well, may act yet better."
The fair success achieved by "A Wife to be Lett: A Comedy," acted at Drury Lane three times, commencing 12 August, 1723,[11] is said to have been due largely to the curiosity of the public to see the author, who by reason of the indisposition of an actress performed in person the part of the wife, Mrs. Graspall, a character well suited to her romping disposition. It is difficult to imagine how the play could have succeeded on its own merits, for the intricacies of the plot tax the attention even of the reader. A certain Ann Minton, however, revived the piece in the guise of "The Comedy of a Wife to be Lett, or, the Miser Cured, compressed into Two Acts" (1802).
Apparently the reception of her comedy was not sufficiently encouraging to induce Mrs. Haywood to continue writing plays, for six years elapsed before she made a third effort in dramatic writing with a tragedy entitled, "Frederick, Duke of Brunswick-Lunenburgh," which was first produced at Lincoln's Inn Fields on 4 March, 1729,[12] and shortly afterward published with a dedication to Frederick Lewis, Prince of Wales. The intention of the dedication was obviously to bid for royal patronage, but the intended victim was too astute to be caught. In eulogizing the Emperor Frederick (c. 1400) the author found abundant opportunity to praise by implication his namesake, but unfortunately for the success of the play none of the royal family "vouchsafed to honour it with their Presence." Mrs. Haywood complains that hers "was the only new Performance this Season, which had not received a Sanction from some of that illustrious Line," and the "unthinking Part of the Town" followed the fashion set by royalty. Unlike "The Fair Captive," which suffered from a plethora of incidents, Mrs. Haywood's second tragedy contains almost nothing in its five acts but rant. An analysis of the plot is but a summary of conversations.
Act I. The German princes hail Frederick, recently elected Emperor. Count Waldec and Ridolpho, in league with the Archbishop of Metz, conspire against him. Waldec urges his sister Adelaid to marry the gallant Wirtemberg. Sophia, her woman and confidant, also urges her to marry, but Adelaid can only reply, "I charge thee Peace, Nor join such distant Sounds as Joy and Wirtemberg," and during the rest of the act proclaims the anguish inspired by her unrequited passion for Frederick, married three years before to a Saxon princess.
Act II. The conspirators plan to kill Frederick. Adelaid reproaches him for abandoning her. He welcomes his imperial consort, Anna, and takes occasion to deliver many magnanimous sentiments.
Act III. Adelaid declares that she cannot love Wirtemberg. Waldec excites the impatient lover to jealousy of Frederick. Ridolpho is banished court for murder.
Act IV. Frederick is distressed by Wirtemberg's discontent. The Empress, seeking to learn the reason for it, is infected by Wirtemberg's suspicions. Adelaid overhears Ridolpho and Waldec plotting to slay Frederick, but hesitates to accuse her own brother. Wirtemberg reproaches her for her supposed yielding to Frederick, and resolves to leave her forever.
Act V. Adelaid, in order to warn him, sends to ask the Emperor to visit her. Waldec intercepts the letter and resolves to murder Frederick in her chamber. Wirtemberg learns that he has been duped and defends the Emperor. Waldec and Ridolpho are killed, though not before they succeed in mortally wounding Frederick, who dies amid tears.
Genest says with truth that the love scenes are dull, and that the subject is not well calculated for dramatic representation. The play was acted only the usual three times, and fully deserved the deep damnation of its taking off.
In 1730 Mrs. Haywood took part in the "Rival Father, or the Death of Achilles," written by her friend, the actor and playwright William Hatchett, and performed at the Haymarket.[13] Three years later she joined with him to produce an adaptation of Fielding's "Tragedy of Tragedies, or the Life and Death of Tom Thumb the Great" on the model of Gay's popular "Beggar's Opera." The "Opera of Operas" follows its original closely with a number of condensations and omissions. Almost the only additions made by the collaborators were the short lyrics, which were set to music by the ingenious Mr. Frederick Lampe.[14] The Hatchett-Haywood version was acted at the Haymarket on 31 May, 1733, and according to Genest, was repeated eleven times at least with Mrs. Clive as Queen Dollalolla.[15] It was published immediately. On 9 November a performance was given at Drury Lane. Although unusually successful, it was Mrs. Haywood's last dramatic offering.[16]
The aspiring authoress apparently never found in dramatic writing a medium suitable to her genius, and even less was she attracted by a stage career. The reasons for her abandoning the theatre to develop her powers as a writer of fiction are stated in a characteristic letter still filed among the State Papers.[17]
Sir
The Stage not answering my Expectation, and the averseness of my Relations to it, has made me Turn my Genius another Way; I have Printed some Little things which have mett a Better Reception then they Deservd, or I Expected: and have now Ventur'd on a Translation to be done by Subscription, the Proposalls whereof I take the Liberty to send You: I have been so much us'd to Receive favours from You that I can make No Doubt of y'r forgiveness for this freedom, great as it is, and that You will alsoe become one of those Persons, whose Names are a Countenance to my undertaking. I am mistress of neither words nor happy Turn of thought to Thank You as I ought for the many Unmeritted favours You have Conferr'd on me, but beg You to believe all that a gratefull Soul can feel, mine does who am Sir
Yo'r most humble & most Obedient Serv't
ELIZA HAYWOOD.
August ye 5th 1720
Enclosed with the letter were "Proposals For Printing by Subscription A Translation from the French of the Famous Monsieur Bursault Containing Ten Letters from a Lady of Quality to a Chevalier."[18] The work thus heralded was published in the latter part of 1720 by subscription- "three shillings each Book in Quires, or five Shillings bound in Calf, Gilt Back"-a method never again employed by Mrs. Haywood, though in this case it must have succeeded fairly well. Three hundred and nine names appeared on her list of subscribers, of which one hundred and twenty-three were women's. Few subscribers of either sex were distinguished. There were, however, that universal patron of minor authors, George Bubb, Esq., later the Doddington to whom Thomson dedicated his "Summer"; Mrs. Barker, the novelist; Aaron Hill; a Mr. Osborne, possibly the bookseller whose name was afterward infamously connected with Eliza's in "The Dunciad"; Charles de La Faye, the under-secretary of state with whom Defoe corresponded; and a sprinkling of aristocratic titles.
The publisher of the letters was William Rufus Chetwood, later the prompter at Drury Lane Theatre, but then just commencing bookseller at the sign of Cato's Head, Covent Garden. He had already brought out for Mrs. Haywood the first effort of her genius, a romantic tale entitled "Love in Excess: or, the Fatal Enquiry." We have the author's testimony that the three parts "mett a Better Reception then they Deservd," and indeed the piece was extraordinarily successful, running through no less than six separate editions before its inclusion in her collected "Secret Histories, Novels and Poems" in 1725. On the last page of "Letters from a Lady of Quality to a Chevalier" Chetwood had also advertised for speedy publication "a Book entitled, The Danger of giving way to Passion, in Five Exemplary Novels: First, The British Recluse, or the Secret History of Cleomira, supposed dead. Second, The Injur'd Husband, or the Mistaken Resentment. Third, Lasselia, or the Unfortunate Mistress. Fourth, The Rash Resolve, or the Untimely Discovery. Fifth, Idalia, or the Self-abandon'd.[19] Written by Mrs. Eliza Haywood." During the next three years the five novels were issued singly by Chetwood with the help of other booksellers, usually Daniel Browne, Jr., and Samuel Chapman. This pair, or James Roberts, Chetwood's successor, published most of Mrs. Haywood's early writings. The staple of her output during the first decade of authorship was the short amatory romance like "Love in Excess" and the "exemplary novels" just mentioned. These exercises in fiction were evidently composed currente calamo, with little thought and less revision, for an eager and undiscriminating public. Possibly, as Mr. Gosse conjectures,[20] they were read chiefly by milliners and other women on the verge of literacy. But though persons of solid education avoided reading novels and eastern tales as they might the drinking of drams, it is certain that no one of scanty means could have afforded Mrs. Haywood's slender octavos at the price of one to three shillings. The Lady's Library ("Spectator" No. 37) containing beside numerous romances "A Book of Novels" and "The New Atalantis, with a Key to it," which last Lady Mary Montagu also enjoyed, and the dissolute country-gentleman's daughters ("Spectator" No. 128) who "read Volumes of Love-Letters and Romances to their Mother," a ci-devant coquette, give us perhaps a more accurate idea of the woman novelist's public. Doubtless Mrs. Haywood's wares were known to the more frothy minds of the polite world and to the daughters of middle-class trading families, such as the sisters described in Defoe's "Religious Courtship," whose taste for fashionable plays and novels was soon to call the circulating library into being.
Beside the proceeds arising from the sale of her works, Mrs. Haywood evidently expected and sometimes received the present of a guinea or so in return for a dedication. Though patrons were not lacking for her numerous works, it does not appear that her use of their names was always authorized. In putting "The Arragonian Queen" under the protection of Lady Frances Lumley, in fact, the author confessed that she had not the happiness of being known to the object of her praise, but wished to be the first to felicitate her publicly upon her nuptials. We may be sure that the offering of "Frederick, Duke of Brunswick- Lunenburgh" to the hero's namesake, Frederick, Prince of Wales, was both unsanctioned and unacknowledged. Sometimes, however, the writer's language implies that she had already experienced the bounty of her patron, while in the case of the novel dedicated to Sir Richard Steele at a time when his health and credit were fast giving way, Eliza can hardly be accused of interested motives. Apparently sincere, too, though addressed to a wealthy widow, was the tribute to Lady Elizabeth Germain prefixed to "The Fruitless Enquiry"; and at least one other of Mrs. Haywood's productions is known to have been in Lady Betty's library. But these instances are decidedly exceptional. Usually the needy novelist's dedications were made up of servile adulation and barefaced begging. With considerable skill in choosing a favorable moment she directed a stream of panegyric upon William Yonge (later Sir) within two months after his appointment as one of the commissioners of the treasury in Great Britain. Soon after Sir Thomas Lombe was made a knight, the wife of that rich silk weaver had the pleasure of seeing her virtues and her new title in print. And most remarkable of all, Lady Elizabeth Henley, who eloped with a rake early in 1728, received Mrs. Haywood's congratulations upon the event in the dedication of "The Agreeable Caledonian," published in June, though if we may trust Mrs. Delany's account of the matter, the bride must already have had time for repentance. Even grief, the specialist in the study of the passions knew, might loosen the purse strings, and accordingly she took the liberty to condole with Col. Stanley upon the loss of his wife while entreating his favor for "The Masqueraders." But of all her dedications those addressed to her own sex were the most melting, and from their frequency were evidently the most fruitful.
The income derived from patronage, however, was at best uncertain and necessitated many applications. To the public, moreover, a novel meant nothing if not something new. Eliza Haywood's productiveness, therefore, was enormous. When she had settled to her work, the authoress could produce little pieces, ranging from sixty to nearly two hundred pages in length, with extraordinary rapidity. In 1724, for instance, a year of tremendous activity, she rushed into print no less than ten original romances, beside translating half of a lengthy French work, "La Belle Assemblée" by Mme de Gomez. At this time, too, her celebrity had become so great that "The Prude, a Novel, written by a Young Lady" was dedicated to her, just as Mrs. Hearne at the beginning of her career had put a romance, "The Lover's Week," under the protection of the famous Mrs. Manley. Between 1720 and 1730 Mrs. Haywood wrote, beside plays and translations, thirty-eight works of her own composing, one in two stout volumes and several in two or more parts. If we may judge by the number and frequency of editions, most of the indefatigable scribbler's tales found a ready sale, while the best of them, such as "Idalia" (1723), "The Fatal Secret" (1724), "The Mercenary Lover" (1726), "The Fruitless Enquiry" and "Philidore and Placentia" (1727), gained for her not a little applause.
Nor was the young adventuress in letters unhailed by literary men. Aaron Hill immediately befriended her by writing an epilogue for her first play and another of Hill's circle, the irresponsible Richard Savage, attempted to "paint the Wonders of Eliza's Praise" in verses prefixed to "Love in Excess" and "The Rash Resolve" (1724).[21]
Along with Savage's first complimentary poem were two other effusions, in one of which an "Atheist to Love's Power" acknowledged his conversion through the force of Eliza's revelation of the tender passion, while the other expressed with less rapture the same idea. But it remained for James Sterling, the friend of Concanen, to state most vigorously the contemporary estimate of Mrs. Haywood and her early writings.[22] "Great Arbitress of Passion!" he exclaims,
"Persuasion waits on all your bright Designs,
And where you point the varying Soul inclines:
See! Love and Friendship, the fair Theme inspires
We glow with Zeal, we melt in soft Desires!
Thro' the dire Labyrinth of Ills we share
The kindred Sorrows of the gen'rous Pair;
Till, pleas'd, rewarded Vertue we behold,
Shine from the Furnace pure as tortur'd Gold:"
of Love in Excess, Part II, and at the front of each successive edition, have never been reprinted. [Transcriber's note: wording in original.] A specimen of his praise follows,
"Thy Prose in sweeter Harmony refines,
Than Numbers flowing thro' the Muse's Lines;
What Beauty ne'er could melt, thy Touches fire,
And raise a Musick that can Love inspire;
Soul-thrilling Accents all our Senses wound,
And strike with Softness, whilst they charm with Sound!
When thy Count pleads, what Fair his Suit can fly?
Or when thy Nymph laments, what Eyes are dry?
Ev'n Nature's self in Sympathy appears,
Yields Sigh for Sigh, and melts in equal Tears;
For such Descriptions thus at once can prove
The Force of Language, and the Sweets of Love.
You sit like Heav'n's bright Minister on High,
Command the throbbing Breast, and watry Eye,
And, as our captive Spirits ebb and flow,
Smile at the Tempests you have rais'd below:
The Face of Guilt a Flush of Vertue wears,
And sudden burst the involuntary Tears:
Honour's sworn Foe, the Libertine with Shame,
Descends to curse the sordid lawless Flame;
The tender Maid here learns Man's various Wiles,
Rash Youth, hence dread the Wanton's venal Smiles-
Sure 'twas by brutal Force of envious Man,
First Learning's base Monopoly began;
He knew your Genius, and refus'd his Books,
Nor thought your Wit less fatal than your Looks.
Read, proud Usurper, read with conscious Shame,
Pathetic Behn, or Mauley's greater Name;
Forget their Sex, and own when Haywood writ,
She clos'd the fair Triumvirate of Wit;
Born to delight as to reform the Age,
She paints Example thro' the shining Page;
Satiric Precept warms the moral Tale,
And Causticks burn where the mild Balsam fails; [sic]
A Task reserv'd for her, to whom 'tis given,
To stand the Proxy of vindictive Heav'n!"
Amid the conventional extravagance of this panegyric exist some useful grains of criticism. One of the most clearly expressed and continually reiterated aims of prose fiction, as of other species of writing from time immemorial, was that of conveying to the reader a moral through the agreeable channel of example. This exemplary purpose, inherited by eighteenth century novelists from Cervantes and from the French romances, was asserted again and again in Mrs. Haywood's prefaces,[23] while the last paragraphs of nearly all her tales were used to convey an admonition or to proclaim the value of the story as a "warning to the youth of both sexes." To modern readers these pieces seem less successful illustrations of fiction made didactic, than of didacticism dissolved and quite forgot in fiction, but Sterling and other eulogists strenuously supported the novelist's claim to moral usefulness.[24] The pill of improvement supposed to be swallowed along with the sweets of diversion hardly ever consisted of good precepts and praiseworthy actions, but usually of a warning or a horrible example of what to avoid.[25] As a necessary corollary, the more striking and sensational the picture of guilt, the more efficacious it was likely to prove in the cause of virtue. So in the Preface to "Lasselia" (1723), published to "remind the unthinking Part of the World, how dangerous it is to give way to Passion," the writer hopes that her unexceptionable intent "will excuse the too great Warmth, which may perhaps appear in some particular Pages; for without the Expression being invigorated in some measure proportionate to the Subject, 'twou'd be impossible for a Reader to be sensible how far it touches him, or how probable it is that he is falling into those Inadvertencies which the Examples I relate wou'd caution him to avoid." As a woman, too, Mrs. Haywood was excluded from "Learning's base Monopoly," but not from an intuitive knowledge of the passions, in which respect the sex were, and are, thought the superiors of insensible man.[26] Consequently her chief excellence in the opinion of her readers lay in that power to "command the throbbing Breast and watry Eye" previously recognized by the Volunteer Laureate and her other admirers. She could tell a story in clear and lively, if not always correct and elegant English, and she could describe the ecstasies and agonies of passion in a way that seemed natural and convincing to an audience nurtured on French romans à longue haleine and heroic plays. Unworthy as they may seem when placed beside the subsequent triumphs of the novel, her short romances nevertheless kept alive the spirit of idealistic fiction and stimulated an interest in the emotions during an age when even poetry had become the handmaid of reason.
But although Eliza had few rivals as an "arbitress of the passions," she did not enjoy an equal success as the "proxy of vindictive heaven." When she attempted to apply the caustic of satire instead of the mild balsam of moral tales, she speedily made herself enemies. From the very first indeed she had been persecuted by those who had an inveterate habit of detecting particular persons aimed at in the characters of her fictions,[27] and even without their aspersions her path was sufficiently hard.
"It would be impossible to recount the numerous Difficulties a Woman has to struggle through in her Approach to Fame: If her Writings are considerable enough to make any Figure in the World, Envy pursues her with unweary'd Diligence; and if, on the contrary, she only writes what is forgot, as soon as read, Contempt is all the Reward, her Wish to please, excites; and the cold Breath of Scorn chills the little Genius she has, and which, perhaps, cherished by Encouragement, might, in Time, grow to a Praise-worthy Height."[28]
Unfortunately the cold breath of scorn, though it may have stunted her genius, could not prevent it from bearing unseasonable fruit. Her contributions to the Duncan Campbell literature, "A Spy upon the Conjurer" (1724) and "The Dumb Projector" (1725), in which the romancer added a breath of intrigue to the atmosphere of mystery surrounding the wizard, opened the way for more notorious appeals to the popular taste for personal scandal. In the once well known "Memoirs of a Certain Island adjacent to the Kingdom of Utopia" (1725-6) and the no less infamous "Secret History of the Present Intrigues of the Court of Carimania" (1727) Mrs. Haywood found a fit repertory for daringly licentious gossip of the sort made fashionable reading by Mrs. Manley's "Atalantis." But though the romans à clef of Mrs. Haywood, like the juvenile compositions of Mr. Stepney, might well have "made grey authors blush," her chief claim to celebrity undoubtedly depends upon her inclusion in the immortal ranks of Grubstreet. Her scandal novels did not fail to arouse the wrath of persons in high station, and Alexander Pope made of the writer's known, though never acknowledged connection with pieces of the sort a pretext for showing his righteous zeal in the cause of public morality and his resentment of a fancied personal insult. The torrent of filthy abuse poured upon Eliza in "The Dunciad" seems to have seriously damaged her literary reputation. During the next decade she wrote almost nothing, and after her curious allegorical political satire in the form of a romance, the "Adventures of Eovaai" (1736), the authoress dropped entirely out of sight. For six years no new work came from her pen. What she was doing during this time remains a puzzle. She could hardly have been supported by the rewards of her previous labors, for the gains of the most successful novelists at this period were small. If she became a journalist or turned her energies toward other means of making a livelihood, no evidence of the fact has yet been discovered. It is possible that (to use the current euphemism) 'the necessity of her affairs may have obliged her to leave London and even England until creditors became less insistent. There can be little doubt that Mrs. Haywood visited the Continent at least once, but the time of her going is uncertain.[29]
When she renewed her literary activity in 1742 with a translation of "La Paysanne Parvenue" by the Chevalier de Mouhy, Mrs. Haywood did not depend entirely upon her pen for support. A notice at the end of the first volume of "The Virtuous Villager, or Virgin's Victory," as her work was called, advertised "new books sold by Eliza Haywood, Publisher, at the Sign of Fame in Covent Garden." Her list of publications was not extensive, containing, in fact, only two items: I. "The Busy-Body; or Successful Spy; being the entertaining History of Mons. Bigand ... The whole containing great Variety of Adventures, equally instructive and diverting," and II. "Anti-Pamela, or Feign'd Innocence detected, in a Series of Syrena's Adventures: A Narrative which has really its Foundation in Truth and Nature ... Publish'd as a necessary Caution to all young Gentlemen. The Second Edition."[30] Mrs. Haywood's venture as a publisher was transitory, for we hear no more of it. But taken together with a letter from her to Sir Hans Sloane,[31] recommending certain volumes of poems that no gentleman's library ought to be without, the bookselling enterprise shows that the novelist had more strings than one to her bow.
By one expedient or another Mrs. Haywood managed to exist fourteen years longer and during that time wrote the best remembered of her works. Copy from her pen supplied her publisher, Thomas Gardner, with a succession of novels modeled on the French fiction of Marivaux and De Mouhy, with periodical essays reminiscent of Addison, with moral letters, and with conduct books of a nondescript but popular sort. The hard-worked authoress even achieved a new reputation on the success of her "Fortunate Foundlings" (1744), "Female Spectator" (1744-6), and her most ambitious novel, "The History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless" (1751). The productions known to be hers do not certainly represent the entire output of her industry during this period, for since "The Dunciad" her writing had been almost invariably anonymous. One or two equivocal bits of secret history and scandal-mongering may probably be attributed to her at the very time when in "Epistles for the Ladies" (1749-50) she was advocating sobriety, religion, and morality. These suspected lapses into her old habits should serve as seasoning to the statement of the "Biographia Dramatica" that Eliza Haywood was "in mature age, remarkable for the most rigid and scrupulous decorum, delicacy, and prudence, both with respect to her conduct and conversation." If she was not too old a dog to learn new tricks, she at least did not forget her old ones. Of her circumstances during her last years little can be discovered. "The Female Spectator," in emulation of its famous model, commences with a pen-portrait of the writer, which though not intended as an accurate picture, certainly contains no flattering lines. It shows the essayist both conscious of the faults of her youth and willing to make capital out of them.
"As a Proof of my Sincerity, I shall, in the first place, assure him [the reader], that for my own Part I never was a Beauty, and am now very far from being young; (a Confession he will find few of my Sex ready to make): I shall also acknowledge that I have run through as many Scenes of Vanity and Folly as the greatest Coquet of them all.- Dress, Equipage, and Flattery were the Idols of my Heart.-I should have thought that Day lost, which did not present me with some new Opportunity of shewing myself.-My Life, for some Years, was a continued Round of what I then called Pleasure, and my whole Time engross'd by a Hurry of promiscuous Diversions.-But whatever Inconveniences such a manner of Conduct has brought upon myself, I have this Consolation, to think that the Publick may reap some Benefit from it:-The Company I kept was not, indeed, always so well chosen as it ought to have been, for the sake of my own Interest or Reputation; but then it was general, and by Consequence furnished me, not only with the Knowledge of many Occurrences, which otherwise I had been ignorant of, but also enabled me ...to see into the most secret Springs which gave rise to the Actions I had either heard, or been Witness of-to judge of the various Passions of the Human Mind, and distinguish those imperceptible Degrees by which they become Masters of the Heart, and attain the Dominion over Reason....
"With this Experience, added to a Genius tolerably extensive, and an
Education more liberal than is ordinarily allowed to Persons of my
Sex, I flatter'd myself that it might be in my Power to be in some
measure both useful and entertaining to the Publick."
A less favorable glimpse of the authoress and her activities is afforded
by a notice of a questionable publication called "A Letter from H--
G-- g, Esq." (1750), and dealing with the movements of the Young
Chevalier. It was promptly laid to her door by the "Monthly Review."[32]
"The noted Mrs. H-- d, author of four volumes of novels well known, and other romantic performances, is the reputed author of this pretended letter; which was privately conveyed to the shops, no publisher caring to appear in it: but the government, less scrupulous, took care to make the piece taken notice of, by arresting the female veteran we have named; who has been some weeks in custody of a messenger, who also took up several pamphlet-sellers, and about 800 copies of the book; which last will now probably be rescued from a fate they might otherwise have undergone, that of being turned into waste-paper, ... by the famous fiery nostrum formerly practised by the physicians of the soul in Smithfield, and elsewhere; and now as successfully used in treasonable, as then in heretical cases."
This unceremonious handling of the "female veteran," in marked contrast to the courteous, though not always favorable treatment of Mrs. Haywood's legitimate novels, suggests the possibility that even the reviewers were ignorant of the authorship of "The History of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy" (1753) and "The Invisible Spy" (1755). Twenty years later, in fact, a writer in the "Critical Review" used the masculine pronoun to refer to the author of "Betsy Thoughtless." It is quite certain that Mrs. Haywood spent the closing years of her life in great obscurity, for no notice of her death appeared in any one of the usual magazines. She continued to publish until the end, and with two novels ready for the press, died on 25 February, 1756.[33]
"In literature," writes M. Paul Morillot, "even if quality is wanting, quantity has some significance," and though we may share Scott's abhorrence for the whole "Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy tribe" of novels, we cannot deny the authoress the distinction accorded her by the "Biographia Dramatica" of being-for her time, at least-"the most voluminous female writer this kingdom ever produced." Moreover, it is not Richardson, the meticulous inventor of the epistolary novel, but the past-mistress of sensational romance who is credited with originating the English domestic novel. Compared with the delicate perceptions and gentle humor of Fanny Burney and Jane Austen, Mrs. Haywood's best volumes are doubtless dreary enough, but even if they only crudely foreshadow the work of incomparably greater genius, they represent an advance by no means slight. From "Love in Excess" to "Betsy Thoughtless" was a step far more difficult than from the latter novel to "Evelina." As pioneers, then, the author of "Betsy Thoughtless" and her obscurer contemporaries did much to prepare the way for the notable women novelists who succeeded them. No modern reader is likely to turn to the "Ouida" of a bygone day-as Mr. Gosse calls her-for amusement or for admonition, but the student of the period may find that Eliza Haywood's seventy or more books throw an interesting sidelight upon public taste and the state of prose fiction at a time when the half created novel was still "pawing to get free his hinder parts."
FOOTNOTES
[1] E. Bernbaum, Mrs. Behn's Biography a Fiction, PMLA, XXVIII, 432.
[2] David Erskine Baker, Companion to the Play House, 1764.
[3] The London Parish Registers contain no mention of an Eliza Fowler in 1693, but on 21 January, 1689, O.S., "Elizabeth dau. of Robert ffowler [Transcriber's note: sic] & Elizabeth his wife" was christened at St. Peter's, Cornhill. Later entries show that Robert was a hosier to his trade. Possibly in suppressing the other particulars of her life, Mrs. Haywood may have consigned to oblivion a year or two of her age, but in her numerous writings I have not found any allusion that could lead to her positive identification with the daughter of Robert Fowler.
[4] He was the author of An Examination of Dr. Clarke's Scripture-Doctrine of the Trinity, with a Confutation of it (1719). The work is a paragraph by paragraph refutation from the authority of scripture of the Scripture Doctrine of the Trinity (1712) by the metaphysical Dr. Samuel Clarke, whose unorthodox views prevented Queen Caroline from making him Archbishop of Canterbury. The Reverend Mr. Haywood was upon safe ground in attacking a book already condemned in Convocation.
[5] "Whereas Elizabeth Haywood, Wife of the Reverend Mr. Valentine Haywood, eloped from him her Husband on Saturday the 26th of November last past, and went away without his Knowledge and Consent: This is to give Notice to all Persons in general, That if any one shall trust her either with Money or Goods, or if she shall contract Debts of any kind whatsoever, the said Mr. Haywood will not pay the same."
[6] Tatler, No. 6 and No. 40.
[7] W.R. Chetwood, A General History of the Stage, 56.
[8] Genest, III, 59.
[9] Genest, III, 73.
[10]
John Rich opened the New Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields during
December, 1714.
[11] Genest, III, 113.
[12] Genest, III, 241.
[13] Biographia Dramatica. The production is mentioned by Genest, III, 281.
[14] W.R. Chetwood, A General History of the Stage, 57.
[15] Genest, III, 408.
[16] In Kane O'Hara's later and more popular transformation of Tom Thumb into a light opera, the song put into the mouth of the dying Grizzle by the first adapters was retained with minor changes.
"My body's like a bankrupt's shop,
My creditor is cruel death,
Who puts to trade of life a stop,
And will be paid with this last breath; Oh!"
Apparently O'Hara made no further use of his predecessors.
[17] S.P. Dom. George I, Bundle 22, No. 97.
[18] In spite of the fact that "Translated from the French" appeared on the title-page, Mrs. Haywood has hitherto been accredited with the full authorship of these letters. They were really a loose translation of Lettres Nouvelles.... Avec Treize Lettres Amoureuses d'une Dame à un Cavalier (Second Edition, Paris, 1699) by Edme Boursault, and were so advertised in the public prints.
[19] Probably a misprint. When the novels appeared, Idalia was the Unfortunate Mistress, Lasselia the Self-abandon'd. Perhaps because the work outgrew its original proportions, or because short novels found a readier sale, the five were never published under the inclusive cautionary caption.
[20]
E. Gosse, Gossip in a Library, 161, "What Ann Lang Read." Only one of
Mrs. Haywood's novels, The City Jilt, was ever issued in cheap form.
T. Bailey, the printer, evidently combined his printing business with
the selling of patent medicines.
[21] The latter may be read in Savage's Poems, Cooke's edition, II, 162. The complimentary verses first printed before the original issue.
[22] His poem To Mrs. Eliza Haywood on her Writings was hastily inserted in the fourth volume of Secret Histories, Novels, and Poems when that collection had reached its third edition (1732). In the fourth edition of ten years later it stands, with the verses already described, at the beginning of Volume I.
[23] In the Preface to Lasselia (1723), for instance, she feels obliged to defend herself from "that Aspersion which some of my own Sex have been unkind enough to throw upon me, that I seem to endeavour to divert more than to improve the Minds of my Readers. Now, as I take it, the Aim of every Person, who pretends to write (tho' in the most insignificant and ludicrous way) ought to tend at least to a good Moral Use; I shou'd be sorry to have my Intentions judg'd to be the very reverse of what they are in reality. How far I have been able to succeed in my Desires of infusing those Cautions, too necessary to a Number, I will not pretend to determine; but where I have had the Misfortune to fail, must impute it either to the Obstinacy of those I wou'd persuade, or to my own Deficiency in that very Thing which they are pleased to say I too much abound in-a true description of Nature."
[24] An eight page verse satire entitled The Female Dunces. Inscribed to Mr. Pope (1733) after criticizing the conduct of certain well known ladies, concludes with praise of a nymph who we may believe was intended to represent Eliza Haywood:
"Eliza good Examples shews in vain,
Despis'd, and laugh'd at by the vicious Train;
So bright she shines, she might adorn a Throne
Not with a borrow'd Lustre, but her Own."
[25] A single exception was The Surprise (1724), dedicated to Steele in the following words: "The little History I presume to offer, being composed of Characters full of Honour and Generosity, I thought I had a fit Opportunity, by presenting it to one who has made it so much his Study to infuse those Principles, and whose every Action is a shining Example of them, to express my Zeal in declaring myself with all imaginable Regard," etc., etc.
[26] See the Dedication to The Fatal Secret (1724). "But as I am a Woman, and consequently depriv'd of those Advantages of Education which the other Sex enjoy, I cannot so far flatter my Desires, as to imagine it in my Power to soar to any Subject higher than that which Nature is not negligent to teach us. "Love is a Topick which I believe few are ignorant of; there requires no Aids of Learning, no general Conversation, no Application; a shady Grove and purling Stream are all Things that's necessary to give us an Idea of the tender Passion. This is a Theme, therefore, which, while I make choice to write of, frees me from the Imputation of vain or self-sufficient:-None can tax me with having too great an Opinion of my own Genius, when I aim at nothing but what the meanest may perform. "I have nothing to value myself on, but a tolerable Share of Discernment."
[27] See the Preface to The Injur'd Husband quoted in Chap. IV.
[28] Preface to The Memoirs of the Baron de Brosse (1725). A similar complaint had appeared in the Dedication of The Fair Captive (1721). "For my own part ... I suffer'd all that Apprehension could inflict, and found I wanted many more Arguments than the little Philosophy I am Mistress of could furnish me with, to enable me to stem that Tide of Raillery, which all of my Sex, unless they are very excellent indeed, must expect, when once they exchange the Needle for the Quill."
[29] See a poem by Aaron Hill, To Eliza upon her design'd Voyage into Spain (undated), Hill's Works, III, 363. Also The Husband, 59. "On a trip I was once taking to France, an accident happen'd to detain me for some days at Dover," etc. Mrs. Haywood's relations with Hill have been excellently discussed by Miss Dorothy Brewster, Aaron Hill (1913), 186.
[30] The first of these was a translation of the Chevalier de Mouhy's best known work, La Mouche, ou les Aventures et espiègleries facétieuses de Bigand, (1730), and may have been done by Mrs. Haywood herself. The second title certainly savors of a typical Haywoodian production, but I have been unable to find a copy of these alleged publications. Neither of them was originally published at the Sign of Fame, and they could hardly have been pirated, since Cogan, who issued the volume wherein the advertisement appeared, was also the original publisher of The Busy-Body. The Anti-Pamela had already been advertised for Huggonson in June, 1741, and had played a small part in the series of pamphlets, novels, plays, and poems excited by Richardson's fashionable history. If Mrs. Haywood wrote it, she was biting the hand that fed her, for The Virtuous Villager probably owed its second translation and what little sale it may have enjoyed to the similarity between the victorious virgin and the popular Pamela.
[31] B.M. (MSS. Sloane. 4059. ff. 144), undated.
[32] Monthly Review, II, 167, Jan. 1750.
[33] The Biographia Dramatica gives this date. Clara Reeve, Progress of Romance, I, 121, however, gives 1758, while Mrs. Griffith, Collection of Novels (1777), II, 159, prefers 1759. The two novels were Clementina (1768), a revision of The Agreeable Caledonian, and The History of Leonora Meadowson (1788).
Alexander's coldness was laid bare before Florrie; he even asked her to buy morning-after pills for another woman. Enduring the pain became her routine, all because Alexander was a stand-in for Alec, her lost love. But one day, she tricked him into signing the divorce papers and said, "I never loved you." Devastation clung to him, his gaze clouded by despair. "You can't leave. I won't sign." Then Alec returned as a conglomerate heir. She searched his face for love and found none-until she turned away. He cracked, tears falling. "I'm sorry," he begged. "I love you."
Linsey was stood up by her groom to run off with another woman. Furious, she grabbed a random stranger and declared, "Let's get married!" She had acted on impulse, realizing too late that her new husband was the notorious rascal, Collin. The public laughed at her, and even her runaway ex offered to reconcile. But Linsey scoffed at him. "My husband and I are very much in love!" Everyone thought she was delusional. Then Collin was revealed to be the richest man in the world. In front of everyone, he got down on one knee and held up a stunning diamond ring. "I look forward to our forever, honey."
Being second best is practically in my DNA. My sister got the love, the attention, the spotlight. And now, even her damn fiancé. Technically, Rhys Granger was my fiancé now-billionaire, devastatingly hot, and a walking Wall Street wet dream. My parents shoved me into the engagement after Catherine disappeared, and honestly? I didn't mind. I'd crushed on Rhys for years. This was my chance, right? My turn to be the chosen one? Wrong. One night, he slapped me. Over a mug. A stupid, chipped, ugly mug my sister gave him years ago. That's when it hit me-he didn't love me. He didn't even see me. I was just a warm-bodied placeholder for the woman he actually wanted. And apparently, I wasn't even worth as much as a glorified coffee cup. So I slapped him right back, dumped his ass, and prepared for disaster-my parents losing their minds, Rhys throwing a billionaire tantrum, his terrifying family plotting my untimely demise. Obviously, I needed alcohol. A lot of alcohol. Enter him. Tall, dangerous, unfairly hot. The kind of man who makes you want to sin just by existing. I'd met him only once before, and that night, he just happened to be at the same bar as my drunk, self-pitying self. So I did the only logical thing: I dragged him into a hotel room and ripped off his clothes. It was reckless. It was stupid. It was completely ill-advised. But it was also: Best. Sex. Of. My. Life. And, as it turned out, the best decision I'd ever made. Because my one-night stand isn't just some random guy. He's richer than Rhys, more powerful than my entire family, and definitely more dangerous than I should be playing with. And now, he's not letting me go.
After two years of marriage, Kristian dropped a bombshell. "She's back. Let's get divorced. Name your price." Freya didn't argue. She just smiled and made her demands. "I want your most expensive supercar." "Okay." "The villa on the outskirts." "Sure." "And half of the billions we made together." Kristian froze. "Come again?" He thought she was ordinary-but Freya was the genius behind their fortune. And now that she'd gone, he'd do anything to win her back.
Lyric had spent her life being hated. Bullied for her scarred face and hated by everyone-including her own mate-she was always told she was ugly. Her mate only kept her around to gain territory, and the moment he got what he wanted, he rejected her, leaving her broken and alone. Then, she met him. The first man to call her beautiful. The first man to show her what it felt like to be loved. It was only one night, but it changed everything. For Lyric, he was a saint, a savior. For him, she was the only woman that had ever made him cum in bed-a problem he had been battling for years. Lyric thought her life would finally be different, but like everyone else in her life, he lied. And when she found out who he really was, she realized he wasn't just dangerous-he was the kind of man you don't escape from. Lyric wanted to run. She wanted freedom. But she desired to navigate her way and take back her respect, to rise above the ashes. Eventually, she was forced into a dark world she didn't wish to get involved with.
Evelina, a mute girl, married Andreas believing he alone would shield her from a world of misery. Three years later, she carried invisible bruises: a miscarried child, a smirking mistress who shamed her in public, and a husband who treated her as a pawn. Love no longer tempted her, nor did she crave another chance. Andreas thought Evelina would never leave him, but when she walked out without a backward glance, panic set in. "Andreas, face the truth. It's over," Evelina declared firmly. He blinked back tears as he stated, "I can't let go." For the first time, she chose herself-and let her heart lead the way.
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