As Mr. Austin Dobson has pointed out,[5] Mrs. Haywood's novel is remarkable for its scant allusions to actual places and persons. Once mention is made of an appointment "at General Tatten's bench, opposite Rosamond's pond, in St. James's Park," and once a character refers to Cuper's Gardens, but except for an outburst of unexplained virulence directed against Fielding,[6] there is hardly a thought of the novelist's contemporaries. Here is a change indeed from the method of the chronique scandaleuse, and a restraint to be wondered at when we remember the worthies caricatured by so eminent a writer as Smollett. But even more remarkable is the difference of spirit between "Betsy Thoughtless" and Mrs. Haywood's earlier and briefer romances. The young romancière who in 1725 could write, "Love is a Topick which I believe few are ignorant of … a shady Grove and purling Stream are all Things that's necessary to give us an Idea of the tender Passion,"[7] had in a quarter of a century learned much worldly wisdom, and her heroine likewise is too sophisticated to be moved by the style of love-making that warmed the susceptible bosoms of Anadea, Filenia, or Placentia. One of Betsy's suitors, indeed, ventured upon the romantic vein with no very favorable results.
"'The deity of soft desires,' said he, 'flies the confused glare of pomp and public shews;—'tis in the shady bowers, or on the banks of a sweet purling stream, he spreads his downy wings, and wafts his thousand nameless pleasures on the fond—the innocent and the happy pair.'
"He was going on, but she interrupted him with a loud laugh. 'Hold, hold,' cried she; 'was there ever such a romantick description? I wonder how such silly ideas come into your head—"shady bowers! and purling streams!"—Heavens, how insipid! Well' (continued she), 'you may be the Strephon of the woods, if you think fit; but I shall never envy the happiness of the Chloe that accompanies you in these fine recesses. What! to be cooped up like a tame dove, only to coo, and bill, and breed? O, it would be a delicious life, indeed!'"[8]
Thus completely metamorphosed were the heroines of Mrs. Haywood's maturest fiction. Betsy Thoughtless is not even the innocent, lovely, and pliable girl typified in Fielding's Sophia Western. She is eminently hard-headed, inquisitive, and practical, and is justly described by Sir Walter Raleigh as "own cousin to Roderick Random."[9]
Whether she may be considered also the ancestor of Evelina must briefly be considered. Dunlop, who apparently originated the idea that "Betsy Thoughtless" might have suggested the plan of Miss Burney's novel, worked out an elaborate parallel between the plots and some of the chief characters of the two compositions.[10] Both, as he pointed out, begin with the launching of a young girl on the great and busy stage of life in London. Each heroine has much to endure from the vulgar manners of a Lady Mellasin or a Madam Duval, and each is annoyed by the malice and impertinence of a Miss Flora or the Misses Branghton. Through their inexperience in the manners of the world and their heedlessness or ignorance of ceremony both young ladies are mortified by falling into embarrassing and awkward predicaments. Both in the same way alarm the delicacy and almost alienate the affections of their chosen lovers. "The chief perplexity of Mr. Trueworth, the admirer of Miss Thoughtless, arose from meeting her in company with Miss Forward, who had been her companion at a boarding-school, and of whose infamous character she was ignorant. In like manner the delicacy of Lord Orville is wounded, and his attachment shaken, by meeting his Evelina in similar society at Vauxhall. The subsequent visit and counsel of the lovers to their mistresses is seen, however, in a very different point of view by the heroines." The likeness between the plots of the two novels is indeed sufficiently striking to attract the attention of an experienced hunter for literary parallels, but unfortunately there is no external evidence to show that Miss Burney ever read her predecessor's work. One need only compare any two parallel characters, the common profligate, Lady Mellasin, for instance, with the delightfully coarse Madam Duval, to see how little the author of "Evelina" could have learned from the pages of Mrs. Haywood.
But if it deserves scant credit as a model for Miss Burney's infinitely more delicate art, "Betsy Thoughtless" should still be noticed as an early attempt to use the substance of everyday life as material for fiction. It has been called with some justice the first domestic novel in the language. Although the exact definition of a domestic novel nowhere appears, the term may be understood—by expanding the French roman à la tasse de thé—as meaning a realistic piece of fiction in which the heroine serves as chief protagonist, and which can be read with a teacup in one hand without danger of spilling the tea. Mrs. Haywood indeed drew upon her old stock of love scenes tender or importunate, duels, marital disputes, and elopements to lend interest to her story, but except for the mock-marriage with a scoundrelly valet from which the imprudent Betsy is rescued in the nick of time by her former lover, no passage in the four volumes recommends itself particularly either to sense or to sensibility. There are few high lights in "Betsy Thoughtless"; the story keeps the even and loquacious tenor of its way after a fashion called insipid by the "Monthly Review," though the critic finally acknowledges the difficulty of the task, if not the success of the writer. "In justice to [our author], however, this may be further observed, that no other hand would, probably, have more happily finished a work begun on such a plan, as that of the history of a young inconsiderate girl, whose little foibles, without any natural vices of the mind, involve her in difficulties and distresses, which, by correcting, make her wiser, and deservedly happy in the end. A heroine like this, cannot but lay her historian under much disadvantage; for tho' such an example may afford lessons of prudence, yet how can we greatly interest ourselves in the fortune of one, whose character and conduct are neither amiable nor infamous, and which we can neither admire, nor love, nor pity, nor be diverted with? Great spirit in the writer, and uncommon beauties in the expression, are certainly necessary to supply the deficiency of such a barren foundation."[11] Neither of the latter qualities was at the command of the "female pen" that composed "Betsy Thoughtless," but in spite of the handicap imposed by the plan of her work and the deficiencies of her genius, she produced a novel at once realistic and readable. Without resorting to the dramatic but inherently improbable plots by which Richardson made his writings at once "the joy of the chambermaids of all nations"[12] and something of a laughing stock to persons capable of detecting their absurdities, Mrs. Haywood preserved his method of minute fidelity to actual life and still made her book entertaining to such a connoisseur of fiction as Lady Mary Wortley Montagu.[13]Though rarely mentioned with entire approbation, "Betsy Thoughtless" was widely read for fifty years after its publication,[14] and undoubtedly deserves its place among the best of the minor novels collected in Harrison's "Novelist's Library."
In the same useful repertory of eighteenth century fiction is the second of Mrs. Haywood's domestic novels, only less famous than its predecessor. Like her earlier effort, too, "The History of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy" (1753) contains a great number of letters quoted at full length, though the narrative is usually retarded rather than developed by these effusions. Yet all the letters, together with numerous digressions and inserted narratives, serve only to fill out three volumes in twelves. To readers whose taste for fiction has been cloyed by novels full of incident, movement, and compression, nothing could be more maddening than the leisurely footpace at which the story drags its slow length along. No wonder, then, that Scott recorded his abhorrence of the "whole Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy tribe," while to Coleridge and Thackeray "Jemmy Jessamy stuff" was a favorite synonym for the emotional inane.[15] But Mrs. Haywood made no pretense of interesting such readers. In the running fire of comment on the narrative contained in the lengthy chapter headings she confesses that her book "treats only on such matters as, it is highly probable, some readers will be apt to say might have been recited in a more laconick manner, if not totally omitted; but as there are others, the author imagines much the greater number, who may be of a different opinion, it is judged proper that the majority should be obliged." She has no hesitation either in recommending parts of the story that "cannot fail of giving an agreeable sensation to every honest and good-natured reader," or in sparing him a "digression of no consequence to the history" which may be "read or omitted at discretion." But those who love to "read in an easy-chair, either soon after dinner, or at night just going to rest," will find in the tale "such things as the author is pretty well convinced, from a long series of observations on the human mind, will afford more pleasure than offence."
We have every reason to believe that what the novelist terms her "distressful narrative" succeeded in its appeal to the Martha Buskbodys of the generation, for even Goethe's Charlotte took a heartfelt interest in the fortunes of Miss Jenny.[18] It was indeed so far calculated to stir the sensibilities that a most touching turn in the lovers' affairs is labeled "not fit to be read by those who have tender hearts or watry eyes." But though popular with sentimental readers, the new production was not wholly approved by the critic of the "Monthly Review."[17] He finds the character and conduct of Miss Jessamy more interesting to the reader than those of Miss Thoughtless, but he does not fail to point out that the fable is equally deficient in plot and in natural incidents. The history, in fact, though it does not want a hero, having like "The Fortunate Foundlings" double the usual number of protagonists, has a more uncommon want, that of a story.
When the novel begins, Jemmy, son of a landed gentleman, and his cousin Jenny, daughter of a wealthy merchant, have long been affianced by their respective parents, but each is left an orphan before their union can be accomplished. Thereupon Jemmy leaves Oxford and comes up to London, where he and Jenny indulge innocently, but with keen relish, in the pleasures of the town.
But the numerous instances of marital levity and unhappiness that come to their notice, make them decide to defer their marriage until they have gained more knowledge of the world and of their own sentiments. In pursuance of this delicate experiment each communicates to the other his observations on the jealousy, discontent, and misery attending marriage. Jenny notes how Mrs. Marlove's partiality for her froward maid promotes discord in the family, and Jemmy is shocked to find the fair Liberia so fond of cards that "though at present a profest enemy to religion, she would be the greatest devotee imaginable, were she once persuaded there were gaming-tables in heaven."