Chapter II: Short Romances of Passion (2)

The weakness and irresolution of the heroine are made the pivot of each turning point in the plot. When she yields to her lover's entreaties to consummate a hasty marriage; when fear of her father's displeasure induces her to keep their union a secret; when her love of luxurious grandeur at court persuades her to contract a more exalted match; when her terror of Clermont forces her into a shameless expedient for the sake of mollifying his anger; and when after her exposure by her husband, the Marquis, she brazens out her trial in hopes of maintaining the splendor of her rank and fortune, she is welding link by link the chain of circumstance that draws her to ultimate disaster. She is by no means a simple heroine motivated by the elementary passions; instead she is constantly swayed by emotions and desires of the most diverse and complex nature. After her first taste of court life she learns to look back on her husband's rusticity with a sort of contempt, and to regret her precipitate action.

"Not that she hated Clermont; on the contrary, she had yet very great
Remains of her former Passion for him, whenever she reflected on the
Endearments which had past between them: but then she depis'd the
Meanness of his Extraction, and the Thoughts that she had put him in
possession of a Title, which gave him the Power, whenever he pleas'd
to exert it, of calling her from the present Grandeur of her State,
and obliging her to live with him in a mean Retirement; made all
Desires instigated by her Affection, immediately give way to that new
Idol of her Wishes, Greatness! And she more ardently endeavour'd to
find some Stratagem to prevent him from ever seeing her again, than
she had formerly pray'd in the Simplicity and Innocence of her
Affections, never to be separated from him." (p. 14).

When an ambitious marriage is proposed, her first horror at the thought of deserting her country husband yields to a sort of resignation when she persuades herself of the necessity of the step. And when she considers the riches, title, and agreeable person of the Marquis, she almost disdains herself for hesitating to prefer him to Clermont. Her life is the tragedy of a soul too indolent to swim against the current of events. Mrs. Haywood managed to give extraordinary vividness and consistency to the character of the vacillating Henrietta by making the plot depend almost entirely upon the indecision of the heroine. Consequently none of the author's women are as sharply defined as this weak, pleasure-loving French girl. The character drawing, though too much subordinated to the sensational elements in the story, is nevertheless distinct and true to life.

Most probably, however, the few attempts at analysis of character or interrelation of character and plot were of little concern both to the author of emotional fiction and to her readers. The romancer's purpose was not to reveal an accurate picture of life and manners, but to thrill the susceptible bosom by scenes of tender love, amorous rapture, or desperate revenge. The department of sensationalism especially exploited by women writers and generally allowed to be most suited to their genius is sufficiently indicated by the words typographically emphasized on the title-page of one of Mrs. Haywood's few essays. "Reflections on the Various Effects of LOVE, According to the contrary Dispositions of the Persons on whom it operates. Illustrated with a great many Examples of the good and bad Consequences of that PASSION. Collected from the best Ancient and Modern HISTORIES. Intermix'd with the latest AMOURS and INTRIGUES of Persons of the First Rank of both Sexes, of a certain Island adjacent to the Kingdom of Utopia. Written by the Author of The Mercenary Lover, and the Memoirs of the said Island. Love is not sin, but where 'tis sinful Love. Never before made Publick." To any contemporary connoisseur of hectic literature such a feast of Love, Passion, Histories, Amours, and Intrigues as this, offered in the shop of N. Dobb in the Strand for the small price of one shilling, must have been irresistible. No less moving was the appeal of Eliza's fiction to such Biddy Tipkins and Polly Honeycombes as delighted in a tale of amorous adventure, particularly if it was set in the glittering atmosphere of the court. A typical story of intrigues among the great is "Lasselia: or, the Self-Abandoned" (1723).

The heroine, niece of Madame de Montespan, finding herself in danger of becoming her aunt's rival in the affections of Louis XIV, goes secretly into the country to visit her friends M. and Mme Valier, where she falls in love with De L'Amye, a married gentleman. Summoned back to court by the amorous monarch, Lasselia chooses rather to flee from the protection of her friends in the disguise of a pilgrim, and led by lucky chance casts herself on the protection of her lover, who conveys her to a country inn and there maintains her for some time to their mutual felicity. Mile Douxmourie, once affianced to De L'Amye but jilted by him, accidentally discovers the pair and immediately communicates with the gallant's wife, who with the Valiers soon appears to reclaim the recreants. The wife rages at her husband, he at the perfidious Douxmourie, while Lasselia offers to stab herself. By the good offices of her friends, however, the girl is persuaded to enter a nunnery where she becomes a pattern of piety. De L'Amye is reconciled to his wife.

In the first few pages of the story the author makes a noteworthy attempt to create an atmosphere of impending disaster. When De L'Amye first meets the heroine, three drops of blood fall from his nose and stain the white handkerchief in her hand, and the company rallies him on this sign of an approaching union, much to his wife's discomfiture. The accident and her yet unrecognized love fill Lasselia's mind with uneasy forebodings. "She wou'd start like one in a Frenzy, and cry out, Oh! it was not for nothing that those ominous Drops of Blood fell from him on my Handkerchief!--It was not for nothing I was seiz'd with such an unusual Horror--Nor is it in vain, that my Soul shrinks, and seems to dread a second Interview!--They are all, I fear, too sure Predictions of some fatal Consequence." These gloomy thoughts at length give way to an ecstasy of despairing love, and when her affection is reciprocated, to a series of passionate letters and poems, which indeed make necessary the author's apology for the "too great Warmth" of the style.

Since the ultimate disaster of adventurous heroines was regarded as a sop to moral readers, Mrs. Haywood frequently failed to gratify her audience with a happy ending, but occasionally a departure from strict virtue might be condoned, provided it took place in a country far removed from England. The scene of "The Padlock: or, No Guard without Virtue"[14] was appropriately laid in Spain.

Don Lepidio of Seville, by his jealous conduct, completely alienates the affections of his young and beautiful wife, Violante. She finally writes a reply to the earnest entreaties of an unknown lover, and though filled with apprehension at seeing her letter carried off by an ugly black slave, agrees to meet him. Don Honorius, for it was he who had assumed the disguise of the slave, proves to be the wonder of his sex. He persuades her to elope to the house of one of his relations, and after Lepidio has secured a divorce, marries her with great felicity.

That novels of intrigue, even without the tinsel of court dress and the romance of French or Spanish setting, were acceptable to Eliza Haywood's public is shown by the two parts of "The Masqueraders: or, Fatal Curiosity" (1724-5), which in the most luscious language of passion narrate the philanderings of a "charming Rover" called Dorimenus, "whose real Name, for some Reasons, I shall conceal." London masquerades, as the title indicates, play a large part in the plot. A more sprightly tale, though still of the unedifying sort, is "Fantomina: or, Love in a Maze. Being the Secret History of an Amour between two Persons of Condition." The story is so fantastic that it can hardly be suspected of having any connection with an actual occurrence, but the novelist was not unaware of the advertising value of hinted scandal.

A young lady of distinguished birth, beauty, wit, and spirit for a frolic goes masked to the theatre, and there falling in love with the agreeable Beauplaisir, begins an intrigue with him. When his ardor cools, she lures him on again under a different disguise, and thus manages four several _liaisons_ successively as Fantomina, Celia the Chambermaid, the Widow Bloomer, and the fair Incognita. Meanwhile she meets her lover frequently in public assemblies without ever arousing his suspicion of her double, or rather manifold identity. But at length she is unable to disguise the effects of her imprudence, her gallant ungallantly refuses to marry her, and the fair intriguer is packed off to a convent in France.

Though the story cannot pretend to support the cause of morality, the style of this piece is unusually clear and straightforward, sometimes suitably periphrastic, but never inflated. The passion described is that of real life ungarnished by romance. Only greater refinement was needed to make the entertainment fit for ladies and gentlemen.

The cardinal defect of some of Mrs. Haywood's romances-in-little lay, however, in a romantic over-refinement of the passions rather than in a too vigorous animalism. Full of the most delicate scruples is "The Surprise: or, Constancy Rewarded" (1724),[15] appropriately dedicated to the Sir Galahad of comedy, Sir Richard Steele. The story relates how Euphemia discovers that the seemingly faithless Bellamant has, in reality, abandoned her on the day set for their marriage because he was unwilling to have her share in the loss of his fortune. She, meanwhile, has inherited a convenient sum, redeems him from his creditors, and after practicing a little mystification to test his constancy, leads him to the altar. Few of Mrs. Haywood's novels are more entirely moral or more essentially dull.

Though the scene of "The Rash Resolve: or, the Untimely Discovery" (1724) is laid in Porto Rico and in Spain, the romancer took little advantage of her opportunity to introduce the usual "cloak and sword" incidents of Spanish fiction. Instead her tale is one of generous love and melting pathos more characteristic of the romance than of the _novella_ or its successors.

The Porto Rican heiress, Emanuella, is defrauded of her fortune by her guardian, Don Pedro, and imprisoned in his house to force her to marry his son, Don Marco. That generous lover helps her to escape to Madrid, and to emphasize the truth of her claims against his wily father, falls upon his sword in the presence of the court. Emanuella's title to her fortune cleared by this extraordinary measure, she continues to reside at the house of Don Jabin, whose daughter, Berillia, she saves from a monastery by making up the deficiency in her dowry. The ungrateful girl, however, resents Emanuella's disapproval of her foppish lover, and resolves to be revenged upon her benefactress. She, therefore, forwards Emanuella's affair with Emilius until the lovers are hopelessly compromised; then taking advantage of the loss of the lady's fortune at sea, blackens her character to Emilius and provokes him to desert her. The abandoned Emanuella enters a convent.

Emilius is challenged by Octavio as a rival in the love of Julia, and though he had never before heard of the lady, he soon becomes her lover in fact, and eventually marries her. Emanuella escapes from the nunnery and wanders to a little provincial town where she bears a son to Emilius. Berillia, who has been rusticated to a village near by in consequence of her amour, encounters her unfortunate friend by chance and runs away from her duenna to join her. She persuades Emanuella to draw a large sum on Don Jabin, robs her, and goes to join her gallant. The injured lady supports her child by mean drudgery until by chance she meets Emilius and his wife, who do all they can to comfort her. But worn out by her afflictions, she dies of a broken heart, leaving her son to be adopted by his father.

Dr. Johnson might with equal truth have said to Mrs. Haywood as to the author of the "Memoirs of Miss Sydney Biddulph," "I know not, Madam, that you have a right ...to make your readers suffer so much." Even the pathetic "History of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy" has nothing to surpass the train of woes exhibited in this earlier tale.

In the same "soft" style are two novels, "The Unequal Conflict: or, Nature Triumphant" (1725) and its sequel, "Fatal Fondness: or, Love its own Opposer." The plot begins with the writer's favorite situation.

Philenia, affianced to Coeurdemont, falls in love with Fillamour. By the help of a confidant, Antonia, the lovers are enabled to arrange a plan of escape. On the eve of the wedding Fillamour breaks into the house and, leaving his servants to bind and gag the father, flies immediately to his soul's adored.

"He threw himself on his knees, as he approach'd the dear mistress of his soul, and with a voice and manner all soft and love-inspiring.--Now madam, said he, if the adoring Fillamour is not unworthy the glory of your deliverance, I come to offer it, and to assure you, that not only this, but the service of my whole future life is entirely devoted to you. The innocent Philenia had not presently the power of replying, the different emotions of love, and shame, fear, and joy, made such a confusion in her sentiments, that she could only look the meanings of them all: Fillamour, however, found enough in this mute language to make him know, he was in as fair a way of happiness, as he cou'd wish; and returning her glances with others as languishing, as the most melting longing love cou'd teach the loveliest eyes in the world, they continued, for some moments, thus transmitting souls--" until their confidant hurries them out of the house.

After the elopement Fillamour is distracted by the opposing motives of love and interest. To marry Philenia means ruin, for his ambitious uncle, who has proposed an advantageous marriage to him, would never forgive him for a love match. The innocent cause of his distress finally discovers his perplexity and agrees to live a single life until they can marry without loss of fortune. In this state of affairs "their love seem'd to be a copy of that pure and immaterial passion, which angels regard each other with, and, which we are allow'd to hope shall be our portion, when, shaking off our earth, we meet in a happier world, where we are to live and love forever." The lovers' paradise is invaded by Philenia's father, who carries her home and locks her up more closely than before. In a short time she has the shocking intelligence that Fillamour has married according to the wishes of his worldly uncle. She still remains constant to him, but "the remainder of her yet surprising adventures," remarks the author, "and those of Antonia and Coeurdemont must be told another time, having good reason to doubt my reader will be tir'd, when I am so myself."

Eliza was perhaps the first to recover from the fatigue, for in a little more than two months the continuation, costing sixpence more than the first instalment, was offered to her readers.

After making his marriage of _convenance_ Fillamour again pays his court to Philenia, and seizing a lucky moment to surprise her on her daily walk, half by persuasion, half by force, carries his point. But before they can meet a second time she is carried off by a gang of villains, who mistake her for another woman. The languishing Misimene, who has pursued Fillamour into the country in man's clothes, consoles him for the loss of his first love. Upon his return to town he finds that his wife has fled to join her lover. Meanwhile Philenia's honor is preserved by timely shipwreck of the vessel in which the ravishers are carrying her off. Washed ashore on the inevitable plank, she supports herself among the fisher folk by weaving nets until after a year's toil she is relieved by Antonia and Coeurdemont, now happily married. The relation of their adventures occupies some pages. Philenia comes back to town to find her lover weltering in his blood, stabbed by the jealous Misimene. Believing him dead, she seizes the same sword, plunges it into her bosom, and instantly expires. Misimene goes into frenzies, and Fillamour alone recovers to live out a life of undying grief.

"Thus was the crime of giving way to an unwarrantable passion,
punish'd in the persons of Philenia and Misimene, and that of perjury
and ingratitude in Fillamour; while the constancy of Antonia, and the
honour of Coeurdemont, receiv'd the reward their virtues merited, and
they continued, to their lives end, great and shining examples of
conjugal affection."

Apparently Philenia's adventures were somewhat too improbable even for the taste of readers steeped in melodramatic romances, for if we may judge by the few copies that have survived, these effusions did not enjoy a wide popularity. But not to be discouraged by failure, Mrs. Haywood soon produced another extravagant and complicated romance, entitled "Cleomelia: or, the Generous Mistress. Being the Secret History of a Lady Lately arriv'd from Bengall" (1727). The scene might equally well have been laid in the Isle of Wight, but Bengal on the title-page doubtless served to whet the curiosity of readers.

Gasper, secretly affianced to Cleomelia, is conveyed out of Bengal by an avaricious father to prevent him from marrying, and she, believing him unfaithful, gives her hand to the generous Heartlove. Informed of the truth by a letter from her lover announcing his speedy return, she boards a ship bound for England, leaving her husband and lover to fight a duel in which Heartlove falls. Meanwhile the heroine is shipwrecked, finds a new suitor in the ship's captain, and hearing of her husband's death and of Gasper's marriage to a Spanish lady, marries the captain. Hardly has he departed on his first voyage, when the still faithful Gasper returns to claim her, only to find her again the bride of another. In despair he goes to England, and when her second husband is lost at sea, she follows to reward his constancy.

Cleomelia's generosity does not seem to be as notable as the sub-title would indicate, but the story was evidently intended to illustrate virtues exalted to a high romantic level.

With the same end in view Mrs. Haywood attempted an even loftier flight into the empyrean of romance, with the result that "Philidore and Placentia: or, L 'Amour trop Delicat" (1727) is more conventional and stilted than any other work from her pen. It imitates closely the heroic French romances, both in the inflated style and elaborate regard for the tender passion, and in the structure of the plot with little histories of the principal characters interspersed at intervals throughout the story. In substance the tale is simply a mosaic of romantic adventures, though some of the hero's wanderings in the desert after being marooned by pirates and especially his encounter with the "tyger" sound like a faint echo of "Captain Singleton" or of Captain John Smith's "True Travels."

The noble Philidore falls in love with the rich and beautiful Placentia, but as his estate is no match for hers, he contents himself with entering her service in disguise and performing menial offices for the pleasure of seeing her. One day she hears him singing in a grotto, and is charmed by the graceful replies he makes to her questions. A little later he saves her from robbers at the expense of a slight wound. She offers to make him groom of her chamber, but fearful of being recognized, he declines. Finally she lays her fortune at his feet, but he has too much generosity to accept the offer. Leaving a letter revealing his true rank and his poverty, he sails for Persia. Some time later, the return of Placentia's long lost brother, by depriving her of her fortune, puts her on a level with her lover.

Philidore is captured by pirates and with eleven others set on shore on a desert strand. Three of the little company reach civilization. After recuperating their strength, they set out for Persia overland, but a tiger deprives Philidore of his two companions. A little later he rescues an unknown youth from three assailants, but not before the stranger has been seriously wounded. A passing traveller carries them to the castle of a Persian nobleman. There Philidore waits with the utmost impatience for the wounded man to recover strength enough to relate his story, but this, as also the misfortunes, perplexities, and dangers to which the despairing passion of the enamoured Placentia occasioned her to reduce herself, and the catastrophe of Philidore's surprising fate, must be told in a Second Part.