Dalinda's unhappy passion for Malvolio incites him to ruin her, and though he deludes her with an unregistered marriage at the Fleet, he has no scruples against marrying the rich Flavilla. Wishing to possess both Flavilla's fortune and Dalinda's charms, he effects a reconciliation with the latter by promising to own their prior contract, but when he comes out into the open and proposes to entertain her as a mistress, she indignantly returns to her grandmother's house, where she summons her brother and her faithful lover, Leander, to force her perfidious husband to do her justice. The latter half of the novel is a tissue of intrigue upon intrigue, with a complication of lawsuits and letters in which Malvolio's villainy is fully exposed, and he is forced to separate from Flavilla, but is unable to exert his claims upon Dalinda. She in turn cannot wring from him any compensation, nor can she in conscience recompense the faithful love of Leander while her husband is living. Thus all parties are sufficiently unhappy to make their ways a warning to the youth of both sexes.
Evidently the history, though indeed founded on fact, differs from the works of Mrs. Haywood's imagination only in the tedious length of the legal proceedings and the uncertainty of the outcome. The only reason for basing the story on the villainy of Mr. Cresswell was to take advantage of the momentary excitement over the scandal. A similar appeal to the passion for diving into the intrigues of the great is apparent in the title of a novel of 1744, "The Fortunate Foundlings: Being the Genuine History of Colonel M——rs, and his Sister, Madame du P——y, the issue of the Hon. Ch——es M——rs. Son of the late Duke of R—— L——D. Containing many wonderful Accidents that befel them in their Travels, and interspersed with the Characters and Adventures of Several Persons of Condition, in the most polite Courts of Europe." The Preface after the usual assurances that the work is compiled from original documents and is therefore more veracious than "the many Fictions which have been lately imposed upon the World, under the specious Titles of Secret Histories, Memoirs, &c," informs us that the purpose of the publication is to encourage virtue in both sexes by showing the amiableness of it in real characters. Instead of exposing vice in the actions of particular persons, the book is a highly moral laudation of those scions of the house of Manners whose names are adumbrated in the title. It cannot, therefore, be classed as a scandal novel or secret history.
The latter term, though loosely applied to the short tale of passion for the purpose of stimulating public curiosity, meant strictly only that type of pseudo-historical romance which interpreted actual history in the light of court intrigue. In France a flood of histories, annals, anecdotes, and memoirs,—secret, gallant, and above all true,—had been pouring from the press since 1665. The writers of these works proceeded upon the ostensible theory that secret history in recognizing woman's influence upon the destiny of nations was more true than "pure" history, which took into account only religious, political, social, or moral factors in judging the conduct of kings and statesmen. Did not Anthony suffer the world to slip from his fingers for the love of Cleopatra? Although the grand romances had a little exhausted the vein of classical material, Mme Durand-Bedacier and Mme de Villedieu compiled sundry annals of Grecian and Roman gallantry.[2] But the cycle of French secret history was much more extensive. Romancing historians ferreted out a prodigious amount of intrigue in every court from that of Childeric to Louis XIV, and set out to remodel the chronicle of the realm from the standpoint of the heart. Nearly every reign and every romantic hero was the subject of one or more "monographs," among which Mme de La Fayette's "Princesse de Clèves" takes a prominent place. The thesaurus and omnium gatherum of the genus was Sauval's "Intrigues galantes de la cour de France" (1695), of which Dunlop remarks that "to a passion, which has, no doubt, especially in France, had considerable effect in state affairs, there is assigned … a paramount influence." But romancers with a nose for gallantry had no difficulty in finding material for their pens in England during the times of Henry VIII, Elizabeth, and Henrietta Maria. But most frequently of all was chosen the life of the Queen of Scots.
From fifteen or sixteen French biographies of the romantic Mary[3] Mrs. Haywood drew materials for an English work of two hundred and forty pages. "Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots: Being the Secret History of her Life, and the Real Causes of all Her Misfortunes. Containing a Relation of many particular Transactions in her Reign; never yet Published in any Collection" (1725) is distinguishable from her true fiction only by the larger proportion of events between set scenes of burning passion which formed the chief constituent of Eliza's romances. As history it is worthless, and its significance as fiction lies merely in its attempt to incorporate imaginative love scenes with historical fact. It was apparently compiled hastily to compete with a rival volume, "The History of the Life and Reign of Mary Stuart," published a week earlier, and it enjoyed but a languid sale. Early in 1726 it passed into a second edition, which continued to be advertised as late as 1743.
"Mary Stuart" is the only one of Mrs. Haywood's romances that strictly deserves the name of secret history. But late in 1749 a little romance that satisfied nearly all the conditions of the type insinuated itself into the pamphlet shops without the agency of any publisher. "A Letter from H—G—g, Esq. One of the Gentlemen of the Bedchamber to the Young Chevalier, and the only Person of his own Retinue that attended him from Avignon, in his late Journey through Germany, and elsewhere; Containing Many remarkable and affecting Occurrences which happened to the P—— during the course of his mysterious Progress" has been assigned to Mrs. Haywood by the late Mr. Andrew Lang,[4] perhaps on the authority of the notice in the "Monthly Review" already quoted.
The pretended author of the letter was a certain Henry Goring, a gentleman known to be in attendance upon the last of the Stuarts. The preface gives a commonplace explanation of how the letter fell into the hands of the editor through a similarity of names. Apparently the pamphlet was thought seditious because it eulogized the Young Chevalier, hinting how advantageous it would be to have him on the throne. As the secret journey progresses, the Prince has a chance to expose his admirable political tenets in conversation with a nobleman of exalted rank; in rescuing a young woman from a fire, caring for her in distress, and refusing to take advantage of her passion for him, he gives evidence of a morality not accorded him by history and proves "how fit he is to govern others, who knows so well how to govern himself"; and when assaulted by hired assassins, he manifests courage and coolness, killing one of the bravos with his own hand. It is unnecessary to review the various stages in the Pretender's travels, which are related with a great air of mystery, but amount to nothing. The upshot is that the Prince has not renounced all thoughts of filling the throne of his ancestors, but has ends in view which the world knows nothing of and which will surprise them all some day. Had the Prince shown himself more susceptible to the charms of the merchants' daughters who fell in his way, this bit of romancing might claim the doubtful distinction of being Mrs. Haywood's only original secret history, but as it stands, no part of the story has the necessary motivation by passion. The intrigue is entirely political.
There would seem to be little dangerous stuff in this performance even five years after the insurrection of 1745, but if as the "Monthly Review" ill-naturedly hints, Eliza Haywood really suffered for her supposed connection with it, the lesson was at any rate effectual, for the small references to the P—— occasionally noticeable in her previous works suddenly ceased, and thereafter the novelist scrupulously refrained from mingling fiction and politics. Previously, however, she had at least once attempted to write a political satire elaborately disguised as a romance. In July, 1736, according to the list of books in the "Gentleman's Magazine," numerous duodecimo volumes emanated from the shop of S. Baker and were sold under the title of "Adventures of Eovaai, Princess of Ijaveo. A Pre-Adamitical History. Interspersed with a great Number of remarkable Occurrences, which happened, and may again happen, to several Empires, Kingdoms, Republicks, and particular Great Men … Written originally in the Language of Nature, (of later Years but little understood.) First translated into Chinese … and now retranslated into English, by the Son of a Mandarin, residing in London."[5]
After the introduction has given a fantastic account of the Pre-Adamitical world, and explained with elaborate unconvincingness how the manuscript of the book came into existence, the tale commences like a moral allegory, but soon lapses into mere extravagant adventure. Capable at all times of using a deus ex machina as the readiest way of solving a situation, Mrs. Haywood here makes immoderate use of magic elements.
Eojaeu, King of Ijaveo, leaves to his daughter, Eovaai, a precious jewel, upon the keeping of which her happiness depends. One day as she is gazing at it in the garden, it slips from its setting and is carried away by a little bird. Immediately the princess is forsaken by her quarreling subjects and abandoned by her suitors, save only the wicked Ochihatou, prime minister of the neighboring kingdom of Hypotofa, who has gained ascendancy over his sovereign by black magic, caused the promising young prince to be banished, and used his power to promote his ambitions and lusts. By infernal agencies he conveys Eovaai to the Hypotofan court, where he corrupts her mind and is about to triumph in her charms when he is summoned to quell a political disturbance. The princess, left languishing in a bower, is saved by her good Genius, who enables her to discern the true deformity of her betrayer and to escape to the castle of the good Alhahuza, and ultimately into the kingdom of Oozoff, where Ochihatou's magic has no power over her. During her stay there she listens to much political theorizing of a republican trend. Ochihatou succeeds in kidnapping her, and she is only saved from his loathed embraces by discovering one of his former mistresses in the form of a monkey whom she manages to change back into human shape and substitutes in her stead. While the statesman is employed as a lover, the populace led by Alhahuza storm the palace. Ochihatou discovers the trick that has been played upon him, hastily transforms his unlucky mistress into a rat, and conveys himself and Eovaai through the air into a kingdom near at hand, where he hopes to make head against the rebels. His pretensions are encouraged, but learning by his magic that the Hypotofan monarch has been freed from the power of his spells, he persuades the princess to return to Ijaveo with him in hopes of regaining her kingdom. He transforms her into a dove, himself into a vulture, and flies with her to a wood near the Ijavean court. There he restores their natural shapes and makes a base attack upon her honor. In the struggle she manages to break his wand, and he in a fury hangs her up by the hair and is about to scourge her to death, when she is rescued by a glorious young stranger. The wicked Ochihatou dashes his brains out against an oak. Her deliverer turns out to be the banished prince of Hypotofa, who restores to her the lost jewel, weds her, and prosperously governs their united realms.
The fantastic story, however, was probably little calculated to sell the book. It was addressed to those who could read between the lines well enough to discern particular personages in the characters of the fiction, and especially a certain great man in the figure of the evil prime minister.