A French Review of Haywood's Anti-Pamela, 1741

Nine years ago now, I added to my list of “Eliza Haywood Reviews” (here), the following review in French, of the French translation of Eliza Haywood’s The Anti-Pamela; or Feign'd Innocence Detected. At that time, I merely linked to the Google Books text of the review in Bibliothèque Britannique, 22.2 (January–March 1744): 358–66.

Somewhat belatedly, I have now transcribed and translated this fascinating review, which is quite positive towards Haywood’s Anti-Pamela, and (rightly) strongly negative towards Richardson’s improbable, inconsistent, and implausible Pamela. Haywood’s Syrene is praised as realistic, consistent, and psychologically plausible—unlike Richardson’s idiotic Pamela. The reviewer specifically praises Haywood’s “moral design,” since the novel genuinely serves, as promised, as a moral warning.

Although the reviewer complains that Anti-Pamela (and Pamela) is badly translated, full of awkward expressions, and solecisms, he praises the translator—in a wonderful peroration—for omitting the many indecencies found in the English original: French readers, the reviewer notes, are spared from reading “a quantity of filth, which English readers are fortunate enough not to be so alarmed by.” Naughty, filthy English readers.

* * * * *

|358|
ARTICLE VII.
I.

L'Anti-Pamela, ou la fausse Innocence, découverte dans les Avantures de Syrene: Histoire véritable, et attestée par l'Expérience de tous les Jours, écrite pour servir de Préservatif aux Jeunes-Gens contre les Ruses des Coquettes, et traduite de l'Anglois par Mr. de M ***. Amsterdam, Arkstée et Merkus, 1743, in 12, 445 pages, sans l'Avertissement.

CET Anti est un Roman Moral, fait pour en réfuter un autre de même Espece, composé par un Mr. RICHARDSON, intitulé Pamela, ou la Vertu récompensée, et dans lequel, selon l'Avertissement qui précede celui-ci, les Regles de la Vraisemblance sont assez mal obsérvées.
  EN EFFET, y dit-on, l'on eft surpris, en lisant cet Ouvrage, d'y voir une Fille, qu'on nous donne pour une Niaise, raisonner, tantôt en Philosophe, tantôt en Théologienne; une Fille, qui a un Attachement presque inoui pour la Vertu; et qui, néanmoins, est la plus grande Grimaciere, et la plus ambitieuse du Monde. Elle veut, et ne veut pas: elle semble n'aimer la Vertu, que pour jetter de la Poudre aux Yeux, et pour mieux parvenir à ses Fins. En un mot, c'est un Caractere si compliqué, |359| qu'à chaque Feuille du Livre on croit voir une autre Héroïne …. Et l'on pourroit peut-être ajouter bien d'autres Choses sur ses Défauts, et ceux de son Panégyrique: ne fussent, par Exemple, que la Grossiéreté, et même la Brutalité des prémieres Propositions et Démarches du Héros de la Piéce, qui ne peuvent que rebuter d'abord tout Lecteur tant soit peu délicat et sensé; et que la ridicule Envie de devenir les Maitreffes et les Epouses de leurs Maitres, que la Réüffite des Minauderies de PAMELA peut aussi abusivement que naturellement faire naitre dans la petite Cervelle de quantité de sottes et imbécilles Créatures que son Avanture aura séduites.
  ON n'aura pas lieu, continue l'Avertissement déjà cité, d'appliquer ces Reproches généraux à SYRENE. Ici, le Caractere est soutenu du Commencement jusqu'à la Fin. C'est toujours une Coquette, qui ignore tout, excepté l'Art de tromper, dans lequel elle excelle. On voit même croitre son Habileté avec son Age: et, par un Effet ordinaire à la Coquetterie, son Gout pour la Débauche augmente à mesure qu'elle a plus d'Habitude avec les Hommes; et, à la fin, elle accorde par Libertinage ce qu'elle ne cédoit que par Intérêt …… Pamela est malheureusement une Espece de Phénix, qu'on ne trouve nulle-part. Syrene est un Personnage, qui est dans tous les Païs, et dans toutes les Villes du Monde. En un mot, on voit avec agrément, dans ce Roman-ci, le Tableau réel et naïf de la Vie, des Ruses, |360| et des Déréglemens outrez des Femmes débauchées; au lieu qu'on voit d'abord à regret, que l'autre n'est qu'un Conte fait à plaisir, forgé dans le Cabinet de l'Auteur, qui y parle toujours, sans laisser presque jamais parler, comme il l'auroit dû selon son Plan, une Fille simple et modeste, dont l'aimable Naïveté auroit cent fois fait plus de Plaisir à tout Lecteur judicieux, que tous les Rafinemens d'Amour quintessenciez et mistiques, qu'on lui prête très mal-habilement. S'il est vrai, comme on le débite, qu'un Prédicateur de Soutwarck n'ait point fait Difficulté de recommander publiquement en Chaire la Lecture de cette Histoire Romanesque, on ne doit point craindre d'y recommander de même celle de Télémaque, de Guzman d'Alfarache, et de quelques autres Romans Moraux de pareille Espece: car les Leçons de Morale, qu'on y donne, y sont bien plus habilement enchassées, beaucoup plus judicieusement distribuées, et par conséquent bien plus propres à produire un heureux Succès.
  POUR répondre parfaitement au Titre de Pamela, ou la Vertu récompensée, la Réfutation, dont il s'agit ici, auroit peut-être dû être intitulée Anti-Pamela, ou le Vice puni, puisqu'en effet chaque Projet criminel de Syrene est toujours mis à néant par le Manque de Succès: en quoi la Conduite et les Leçons de l'Auteur paroissent très judicieuses et très dignes d'Approbation. Quoi qu'il en soit, ces Avantures qui sont |361| au Nombre de IX, peuvent effectivement tenir lieu de Préservatif contre les Ruses des Coquettes: et c'est ce dont on pourra se former une Idée par le Détail suivant.
  I. DANS la prémiere, Syrene, mise en Apprentissage à contre-cœur chés une Couturiere, et bien instruite par sa Mere, Femme d'Intigue fort expérimentée, de ne jamais s'attacher à qui que ce fût que par Intérêt, mais entrainée par son Penchant à la Volupté, s'amourache étourdiment d'un Aigresin de Lieutenant, quil'entraine adroitement dans une Taverne, où, moïennant une Paire de Bas, et quelques Verres de Ratafia redoublez, il en obtient enfin les Gans. Après quoi, à propos de quelques Plumes qu'elle tâche en vain de lui arracher, il la plante-là enceinte de son Fait: mais, à l'aide d'un Breuvage officieux, sa digne Mere, Femme de longue-main familiarisée avec le Crime, la tire bientôt de ce mauvais Pas.
  II. LA seconde se passe dans une Maifon de Qualité, où Syrene, placée pour lire auprès d'une vieille Dame, et avoir soin de sa Chambre, trouve Moïen de mettre dans ses Filets son Gendre, et le Fils de ce Gendre, auquel elle s'abandonne enfin, mais qu'elle accuse aussi-tôt de l'avoir violée, et qui se voïoit sur le Point d'être forcé à l'épouser, ou exposé aux Rigueurs de la Justice, si une Lettre, imprudemment écrite par la Mere de Syrene, et heureusement remise à la Famille du Jeune-Homme, |362| n'avoit enfin découvert leur Complot scélérat.
  III. LA Scene de la troisieme fut à Greenwich, où Syrene, déjà entretenue par un Marchand Portugais, lie encore deux autres Intigues, l'une avec un Capitaine de Vaisseau, et l'autre avec un Jeune-Homme de Distinction, qui, aïant découvert, que sa Perfidie, et la Scélératesse de sa Mere, avoient causé la Mort de sa Fiancée, l'accable des plus violens Reproches, la quitte avec Horreur, et va porter sa Douleur et ses Regrets en Amérique.
  IV. L' OPERA et la Mascarade furent l'Occasion de la quatrieme, où l'on voit Syrene s'accrocher fort cavaliérement à un Lord déguisé de même qu'elle, passer fort voluptueusement la Nuit avec lui; après l'avoir effrontément ensuite été relancer jusque dans son propre Domicile, en recevoir les Railleries les plus ameres, et les Menaces les plus accablantes; et, enfin, en être le plus ignominieusement chassée.
  V. ON remarque dans la cinquieme avec quelle Facilité elle plume impitoïablement un Idiot de Marchand, qui, aïant enfin découvert son Infidélité et ses Friponneries en faveur d'un Avanturier, et se voïant à peu près ruïné, veut se tuër lui-même, mais en est empêché par sa Femme, qui lui pardonne généreusement ses Egaremens, pendant que, d'autre côté, Syrene et son
Galant, après avoir promtement dissipé ce |363| qu'ils lui avoient volé, se brouillent, se querellent, se battent, et enfin se quittent pour toujours.
  VI. ON voit dans la sixieme Syrene s'abandonner brutalement à son Insatiabilité pour les Hommes, se livrer sans mesure, non seulement aux Desirs empressez d'un Lord qui l'entretenoit en Chambre, mais même aux Emportemens brutaux de tout Venant, de qui elle ne manque point de recevoir de fort mauvais Présens, qu'elle communique au Lord, qui ne s'abstient de la traiter comme elle méritoit, que pour ne point appreter à rire au Public à ses Dépens.
  VII. LA septieme, l'une des plus intéressantes de tout le Livre, représente Syrene comme aïant fortuitement fait Connoissance dans le Parc de Saint-James avec un vieux Gentil-Homme veuf, qui la prend pour diriger sa Maison, et de l'Esprit duquel elle sait si bien s'emparer, par son Maintien modeste et hipocrite, qu'il alloit incessamment l'épouser, si son Fils, qu'il lui présentoit, n'eût fait d'Etonnement quatre Pas en arrierre, et si elle-même à son Aspect n'eût jetté un grand Cri de Surprise, qui jettérent le Bon-Homme dans un Embarras encore plus grand que le leur. Le Dénoûment fut, que ce Jeune-Homme se jetta aux Pieds de son Pere, lui demanda Pardon de ses Débauches, et lui avoua sincérement que cette Créature étoit une Fille-de-Joie des plus impudiques, et qui lui avoit passé quantité de fois par les Mains, |364| dans divers mauvais Lieux; ce qui la sit aussitôt, non seulement dépouiller des Habits magnifiques et des Joïaux précieux dont on l'avoit parée, mais même ignominieusement chaffer d'une riche et puissante Maison, dont elle alloit devenir la Maitresse.
  VIII. LE Héros de la huitieme fut un Jeune-Homme d'assez bonne Famille, mais pour le moins aussi gueux que Syrene, et qu'elle acheva de dépouiller impitoïablement jusqu'au dernier Fardin, sous prétexte de Mariage: mais, l'aïant enfin surprise en flagrant Délict avec le prémier Avanturier qui l'avoit débauchée, l'un et l'autre indignez de se voir également jouëz et duppez, la couvrirent d'Injures, et l'abandonnérent à sa mauvaise Conduite.
  IX. LA neuvieme et derniere commença à un Encan, d'où un Gentil-Homme la tira pour la mettre en Chambre, d'où sa Femme, extrémement jalouse, sçut à son Tour la tirer, pour être conduite, par Ordre du Magistrat, dans une Prison de Prostituées, en attendant qu'on la chassat honteusement de Londres, et qu'on la reléguât dans le Fond du Païs de Galles.
  TELLES sont les prémieres Avantures de Syrene, qui en font naturellement attendre de secondes. Et s'il est vrai qu'elle n'eût alors que dix-sept Ans, comme le dit expressément quelque part le Livre, elle pouvoit à très juste Titre parodier ainsi pour elle-même ce fameux Vers du Cid de Corneille: |365|

   Je suis jeune il est vrai; mais, aux Ames mal nées,
   Le Vice n'attend pas le Nombre des Années.

  IL ne sera peut-être pas inutile d'ajouter, que les deux Traductions de ces Romans de Pamela, et d'Anti-Pamela, ne sont nullement bien écrites, et se sentent fort souvent du Langage altéré des Lieux qu'habitent leurs Auteurs. Sans insister sur la prémiere, qui est fort irréguliere dans l'Edition de Londres, et que par cette Raison l'on a été obligé de rajuster tant bien que mal en beaucoup d'Endroits des Editions d'Amsterdam, il suffira d'indiquer ici quelques Irrégularitez de la seconde, telles que la Barette quittée par une Fille, pag. 3; une Tailleuse, pag. 4; tourner des Dispositions vers des Desirs, pag. 7; faire un Tour fur la Cour, pag. 24, et de même pagg. 31, 42, &c; ce fut férieux, pag. 25; se torturer, pag. 54; le Milord jugea … que Syrene … deviendroit une Espece de Bardane, pag. 236; une Cloaque, pag. 273; et sur-tout cet admirable Vers,

Fuiez la dangereuse Beauté des. Coquettes,

pag. 266: en sorte qu'on peut très légitimement conclurre, qu'ainsi que le Crispin Médecin de Haute-Roche étoit aussi habile en Astrologie qu'en Médecine, le Traducteur |366| de l'Anti-Pamela n'est guere moins habile en Vers qu'en Prose.
  AU RESTE, les Lecteurs François lui doivent être fort redevables de leur avoir épargné la Lecture de quantité de Saletez, dont les Lecteurs Anglois sont en Possession de ne s'effaroucher pas de même.

* * * * *

|358|
ARTICLE VII.
I.

The Anti-Pamela, or False Innocence, Discovered in The Adventures of Syrene: A True Story, Attested by Everyday Experience, Written to Serve as a Preservative for Young Men Against the Tricks of Flirts, and Translated from the English by Mr. de M***. Amsterdam, Arkstée [and] Merkus, 1743, in 12mo, 445 pages, without the Advertisement.

This Anti is a Moral Novel, written to refute another of the same kind, composed by a Mr. RICHARDSON, entitled Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, and in which, according to the Advertisement preceding it, the Rules of Verisimilitude are rather poorly observed.
  Indeed, it is said, one is surprised, upon reading this work, to see a girl, whom we are told is a simpleton, reasoning sometimes like a philosopher, sometimes like a theologian; a girl who has an almost unheard-of attachment to virtue; and who, nevertheless, is the greatest charlatan and the most ambitious in the world. She wants and she doesn't want: she seems to love virtue only to throw dust in people's eyes and to better achieve her ends. In short, she is such a complicated character, |359|, that on every page of the book one thinks one sees another heroine…. And one could perhaps add many other things about its faults, and those of its praise: for example, the crudeness, even the brutality, of the hero's initial proposals and actions, which cannot help but repel any reader with even a modicum of refinement and sense; and the ridiculous envy of becoming the mistresses and wives of their masters, which the sheer volume of PAMELA's coquettishness can so easily, yet naturally, inspire in the small minds of countless foolish and imbecilic creatures whom her adventure has seduced.
  It will not be necessary, continues the already-cited Advertisement, to apply these general reproaches to SYRENE. Here, the character is consistent from beginning to end. She is always a coquette, ignorant of everything except the art of deception, in which she excels. We even see her skill grow with her age; and, by an effect common to coquetry, her taste for debauchery increases as she becomes more accustomed to men; and, in the end, she grants through libertinism what she previously yielded only through self-interest… PAMELA is unfortunately a kind of phoenix, which is found nowhere else. SYRENE is a character who is found in every country and in every city of the world. In short, we see with pleasure, in this novel, the real and naive picture of the life, the ruses, |360| and the extreme debaucheries of debauched women; instead, we see at first with regret that the other is only a Tale made for pleasure, forged in the Author's Cabinet, who always speaks there, without almost ever letting a simple and modest Girl speak, as he should have according to his Plan, whose amiable Naiveté would have given a hundred times more Pleasure to any judicious Reader than all the quintessential and mystical Refinements of Love, which are very clumsily attributed to him. If it is true, as is claimed, that a preacher from Southwark had no difficulty publicly recommending the reading of this historical romance from the pulpit, then one should not hesitate to recommend likewise that of Telemachus, Guzman d'Alfarache, and some other moral romances of the same kind: for the moral lessons given therein are much more skillfully embedded, much more judiciously distributed, and consequently much more likely to produce a happy success.
  To perfectly match the title Pamela, or Virtue Rewarded, the Refutation in question here might perhaps have been entitled Anti-Pamela, or Vice Punished, since indeed every criminal scheme of Syrene is always thwarted by its lack of success: in which respect the author's conduct and lessons appear very judicious and highly worthy of approval. In any case, these Adventures, which |361| number IX, can indeed serve as a safeguard against the wiles of coquettes: and this is something one can form an idea of from the following detail.
  I. In the first story, Syrene, reluctantly apprenticed to a seamstress and well-instructed by her mother, a woman of considerable experience and intrigue, never to become attached to anyone except for self-interest, but led astray by her inclination towards pleasure, falls foolishly in love with a swindler of a lieutenant, whom she cleverly lures into a tavern, where, by means of a pair of stockings and several glasses of double-strength ratafia, he finally obtains her gloves. After which, over some feathers she tries in vain to pluck from him, he leaves her pregnant with his child; but, with the help of a potent brew, her worthy mother, a woman of long standing familiar with crime, soon rescues her from this predicament.
  II. The second takes place in a House of Quality, where Syrene, placed to read beside an old Lady and to look after her Room, finds a way to ensnare her son-in-law and his son-in-law, to whom she finally gives herself, but whom she immediately accuses of having raped her. He was about to be forced to marry her or exposed to the rigors of Justice, if a letter, imprudently written by Syrene's Mother and fortunately delivered to the Young Man's Family, |362| had not finally uncovered their wicked plot.
  III. The scene in the third scene took place in Greenwich, where Syrene, already kept by a Portuguese merchant, becomes embroiled in two further affairs, one with a ship's captain, and the other with a young man of distinction. This young man, having discovered that her treachery and his mother's wickedness had caused the death of his fiancée, heaps the most violent reproaches upon her, abandons her in horror, and goes to America to bear his grief and regrets.
  IV. The opera and the masquerade were the occasion for the fourth scene, in which Syrene is seen quite cavalierly latching onto a lord disguised like herself, spending the night with him in a most voluptuous manner; after having brazenly pursued him even to his own home, receiving the bitterest mockery and the most crushing threats. and, finally, to be most ignominiously driven out.
  V. One notices in the fifth one with what ease she mercilessly fleeces an idiotic merchant who, having finally discovered his infidelity and roguery in favor of an adventurer, and seeing himself nearly ruined, wants to kill himself, but is prevented by his wife, who generously forgives his indiscretions, while, on the other hand, Syrene and her gallant, after having promptly squandered |363| what they had stolen from her, quarrel, fight, and finally part forever.
  VI. In the sixth scene, we see the Syrene brutally abandon herself to her insatiable hunger for men, surrendering herself without restraint not only to the eager desires of a Lord who entertained her in his chamber, but also to the brutal outbursts of every passerby, from whom she invariably receives very poor gifts, which she then passes on to the Lord, who only refrains from treating her as she deserves so as not to become a laughingstock to the public at her expense.
  VII. The seventh, one of the most interesting in the whole book, represents Syrene as having fortuitously made acquaintance in the park of Saint James with an old widowed gentleman, who takes her to manage his house, and whose mind she knows so well how to seize, by her modest and hypocritical demeanor, that he was about to marry her, if his son, whom he was presenting to her, had not taken four steps back in astonishment, and if she herself at his sight had not thrown a great cry of surprise, which threw the good man into an embarrassment even greater than theirs. The outcome was that this young man threw himself at his father's feet, begged his forgiveness for his debauchery, and sincerely confessed that this creature was a most shameless prostitute who had passed through his hands many times |364| in various disreputable places; which immediately led to her not only being stripped of the magnificent clothes and precious jewels with which she had been adorned, but even ignominiously taken from a rich and powerful household, of which she was to become the mistress.
  VIII. The hero of the eighth tale was a young man from a fairly good family, but at least as destitute as Syrene, whom she ruthlessly stripped of every last penny under the pretext of marriage. But, having finally caught him in the act with the first adventurer who had seduced her, both, indignant at being equally deceived and tricked, heaped insults upon her and abandoned her to her wicked ways.
  IX. The ninth and last began at an auction, from which a gentleman took her to put her in a chamber, from which his extremely jealous wife in turn took her, to be taken, by order of the magistrate, to a prison of prostitutes, while waiting to be shamefully driven out of London, and relegated to the depths of Wales.
  Such are the first adventures of Syrene, which naturally lead one to expect more. And if it is true that she was only seventeen at the time, as the book expressly states somewhere, she could quite rightly parody for herself that famous line from Corneille's Le Cid: |365|

   I am young, it is true; but, for ill-born souls,
  Vice does not wait for the number of years.

It may perhaps be useful to add that the two translations of these novels, Pamela and Anti-Pamela, are by no means well written, and very often reflect the altered language of the places inhabited by their authors. Without dwelling on the first, which is quite irregular in the London edition, and which for this reason has had to be readjusted as best as possible in many places in the Amsterdam editions, it will suffice to point out here some Irregularities of the second, such as the Barette left by a Girl, p. 3; a Seamstress, p. 4; turning Dispositions towards Desires, p. 7; taking a Tour of the Court, p. 24, and similarly pag. 31, 42, etc.; it was ferocious, p. 25; torturing oneself, p. 54; the Lord judged… that Syrene… would become a Kind of Burdock, p. 236; a cesspool, p. 273; and above all this admirable Verse,

Flee the dangerous beauty of… Coquettes,

p. 266: so that one can very legitimately conclude that, just as Crispin Physician of Haute-Roche was as skilled in Astrology as in Medicine, the Translator |366| of Anti-Pamela is scarcely less skilled in Verse than in Prose.
  Moreover, French readers owe him a great deal of gratitude for having spared them the reading of a quantity of filth, which English readers are fortunate enough not to be so alarmed by.

A French Review of Haywood's Letter from Henry Goring

Eliza Haywood's Ab.66 A Letter from H---- G----g Esq; One of the Gentlemen of the Bed-chamber to the Young Chevalier … To a Particular Friend (1749) was translated as Lettre de H.... G....g Ecuyer, un des Gentilshommes de la Chambre du jeune Chevalier de S. George … qui l'ait accompagne d'Avignon … Traduite de l'Anglois par M. l'Abbe *** (1756).

This French translation was reviewed (in French) in L'Année littéraire, 7 (1756): 38–43, which is online here (as previously noted on this blog), but also here. Below is my transcription and translation (via Google Translate). If anyone cares to improve on either transcription or translation please let me know.

* * * * *

Lettre sur le Prétendant.

  L'histoire des disgraces du Prince Edouard a fait autrefois, Monsieur, le sujet d'une de mes Lettres *. Les voyages de ce Prince depuis son départ d'Avignon jusqu'à son arrivée en Lithuanie font la matière d'une brochure in-12 qui se vend chez Prault, Quai de Conti, à la descente du Pont-Neuf. Elle est intitulée: Lettre de H..... G.... G.... Ecuyer, un des Gentilshommes de la Chambre du jeune Chevalier de Saint George, et la seule personne de sa Cour qui l'ait accompagné d'Avignon dans son voyage en Allemagne et autres lieux: contenant plusieurs aventures touchantes et remarquables qui sont arrivées à ce Prince pendant le cours de son voyagé secret: à un ami particulier; traduite de l'Anglois par M. l'Abbé ***.
  On raconte dans cette Lettre vraie ou prétendue qu'un gentilhomme, qui se faisoit appeller le Chevalier de la Luze, étant arrivé à Avignon, eut avec le Prince des conférences secrettes, et partit peu de jours après. Le Prince ne tarda pas à le suivre, accompagné seulement d'un gentilhomme, d'un valet de chambre et de deux domestiques. Pour n'être point connu, il se fit appeller le Comte d'Espoir, et il prit sa route par Lyon. Il descendit dans un village à deux lieues plus loin que cette ville; il s'enferma dans une chambre, passa la nuit à écrire des lettres, et le lendemain il renvoya tout son monde excepté son gentilhomme. L'hôte chez lequel il logeoit lui trouva d'autres domestiques. Le Prince continua sa route par Dijon et par Nancy, et il arriva à Strasbourg où le Chevalier de la Luze lui avoit fait préparer un logement. Quelques jours après le feu prit pendant la nuit dans une maison qui étoit vis à-vis de son appartement. Il fut bientôt éveillé par le bruit; il s'habilla et sortit pour aller au secours. Ses gens voulurent le retenir: Eh quoi, s'écria-t-il, sommes nous donc nés pour avoir soin seulement de nous mêmes? Et aussi-tôt il vole à l'endroit où le feu faisoit le plus de ravage. L'objet qui le frappe d'abord est une jeune femme qui avoit la moitié du corps passé hors de la fenêtre, et qui crioit au secours parce qu'elle étoit dans une chambre où le feu avoit pris de toutes parts. Le Prince lui dit de se jetter en bas, et qu'il la recevroit dans ses bras. Il la reçut en effet sans qu'elle se fît aucun mal; et comme elle étoit en chemise, dit l'auteur, il l'emporta chez lui, la mit dans son lit, l'enveloppa dans ses couvertures pour empêcher qu'elle ne s'enrhumât. La crainte du danger avoit fait perdre connoissance à cette jeune et aimable personne, de sorte que pendant tout ce temps elle sut totalement insensible au soin qu'il prenoit d'elle. Le Prince de son' côté, loin de profiter de l'état où elle se troavoit, ne s'occupoit qu'à la saire revenir de son évanouissement. Quand elle eut repris ses sens, il la, recommanda à la maîtresse du logis, et retourna au feu qui duroit toujours. Le lendemain il dîna avec la jeune Demoiselle, le Chevalier de lu Luze, et son gentilhomme. Le repas sut gai, la conversation tendre et galante; et la Demoiselle, pénétrée de reconnoissance et frappée des vertus et de la bonne mine de son libérateur, se troubla, quitta la table, et alla prendre l'air un moment à la fenêtre. Le Prince la suivit et lui parla; la Luze et son gentilhomme voulurent le laisser seul avec elle. Il les retint auprès de lui dans la crainte qu'un tête à tête ne lui fît perdre le prix de son bienfait. Il se sépara de cette charmante personne, comme Aléxandre qui voyant la beauté des filles de Darius se retira sur le champ de leur présence.
  Tandis que le Prince Edouard étoit à Avignon, un Anglois, qui se disoit gentilhomme, étoit venu lui demander un emploi auprès de fa personne. Comme ìl n'y en avoit point de vacant, le Prince lui donna quelque argent, et lui permit de venir manger dans son palais. On le soupçonna bientôt d'être un imposteur et un espion. On communiqua ces soupçons au Prince: cela pourroit bien être, répondit-il; mais nous n'en sommes pas certains; nous sçavons seulement qu'il est dans le besoin; et j'aimerois mieux secourir cent ennemis que de refuser à un ami, sur un simple soupçon, le peu de secours que je puis lui donner. Cet homme avoit disparu quelque temps avant le départ du Prince; on sut fort étonné de le retrouver à Strasbourg dans l'hôtellerie où logeoit son Altesse Royale. Le jout même le Prince quitta Strasbourg, passa le Rhin, et continua sa route par Wirtzbourg. A quelque distance de cette ville, cinq hommes bien montés, masqués et armés, déchargèrent leurs pistolets tous à la fois et sans dire mot dans la chaise où étoit le Prince. Aucune des balles ne le blessa; il sauta de sa chaise, sit feu à son tour contre les assassins, en tua deux, et mit les autres en suite. Un des morts écoit le traître à qui son Alteste Royale avoit donné de l'argent à Avignon.
  Le Prince partit pour Léipsick, et le Chevalier de la Luze, après avoir exécuté sa commission en le conduisant en une certaine Cour d'Allemagne où il demeura dix jours, prit congé de lui. Edouard, accompagné seulement de son gentilhomme et de deux domestiques, passa dans différens Etats dont les Souverains n'étoient pas tous également disposés en sa faveur. A son arrivée en Lithuanie il reçut la visite d'une personne très-illustre qui lui est intimement attachée. Il eut avec elle plusieurs entrevues secrettes dans un château appartenant à la maison de Wizinski. Bien des gens, dit l'auteur, ont assûré que ce Prince étoit marié; mais rien n'est plus faux; il est vrai, ajoûte-t-il, qu'il aime une Princesse et qu'il en est aimé, et que, si ses affaires prennent une face plus favorable, cette union ne tardera pas à se faire; mais dans la position où il est actuellement il ne veut point se marier, pour ne pas devenir père, comme il dit lui-même, de mendians Royaux. Voilà, Monsieur, jusqu'où l'auteur de cette Lettre a conduit son héros. Il ne nous apprend ni ce qu'il devient, ni quel est le but de son voyage. Cette brochure est d'ailleurs très-mal écrite.

*Voyez l'Année Littéraire 1756, Tome II page 289.

Letter about the Pretender.

  The story of Prince Edward's misfortunes was once, Sir, the subject of one of my letters.* The travels of this Prince from his departure from Avignon to his arrival in Lithuania form the subject of a small octavo pamphlet sold at Prault's, Quai de Conti, near the Pont-Neuf. It is entitled: Letter from H..... G.... G.... Esquire, one of the Gentlemen of the Chamber to the young Chevalier de Saint George, and the only person of his Court who accompanied him from Avignon on his journey to Germany and other places: containing several touching and remarkable adventures that befell this Prince during the course of his secret journey: to a special friend; translated from the English by Abbot ***.
  This letter, true or purported, recounts that a gentleman calling himself the Chevalier de la Luze arrived in Avignon, held secret conferences with the Prince, and departed a few days later. The Prince soon followed him, accompanied only by a gentleman, a valet, and two servants. To remain anonymous, he called himself the Count d'Espoir and made his way through Lyon. He stopped in a village two leagues beyond the city, shut himself in a room, spent the night writing letters, and the next day dismissed everyone except his gentleman. The innkeeper where he stayed found him other servants. The Prince continued his journey via Dijon and Nancy, arriving in Strasbourg where the Chevalier de la Luze had arranged lodgings for him. A few days later, a fire broke out during the night in a house opposite his apartment. He was soon awakened by the noise; he dressed and went out to help. His servants tried to stop him: "What!" he cried, "were we born to only take care of ourselves?" And immediately he flew to the place where the fire was raging the most. The first thing that struck him was a young woman who had half her body hanging out of a window, crying for help because she was in a room that was ablaze on all sides. The Prince told her to throw herself down, and that he would catch her in his arms. He did indeed catch her without her being harmed; And as she was in her shift, the author says, he took her home, put her in his bed, and wrapped her in his blankets to prevent her from catching a cold. The fear of danger had caused this young and charming person to lose consciousness, so that during all this time she remained completely unmoved by his care for her. The Prince, for his part, far from taking advantage of her condition, was only concerned with helping her recover from her faint. When she had regained her senses, he commended her to the lady of the house and returned to the fire, which was still burning. The next day he dined with the young lady, the Chevalier de Luze, and his gentleman. The meal was cheerful, the conversation tender and gallant; And the young lady, filled with gratitude and struck by the virtues and handsome appearance of her liberator, became flustered, left the table, and went to the window for a moment to get some fresh air. The Prince followed her and spoke to her; Luze and her gentleman wished to leave him alone with her. He kept them with him, fearing that a private conversation might cause him to lose the reward of his kindness. He parted from this charming woman, like Alexander who, upon seeing the beauty of Darius's daughters, withdrew immediately from their presence.
  While Prince Edward was in Avignon, an Englishman, who called himself a gentleman, came to ask him for a position in his household. As there was no vacancy, the Prince gave him some money and allowed him to dine in his palace. He was soon suspected of being an imposter and a spy. These suspicions were communicated to the Prince: "That could well be true," he replied, "but we are not certain; we only know that he is in need; and I would rather help a hundred enemies than refuse a friend, on mere suspicion, the little help I can give him." This man had disappeared some time before the Prince's departure; everyone was quite astonished to find him in Strasbourg at the inn where His Royal Highness was staying. That very day, the Prince left Strasbourg, crossed the Rhine, and continued his journey via Wirtzburg. Some distance from this city, five well-mounted, masked, and armed men discharged their pistols all at once and without a word into the chair where the Prince was sitting. None of the bullets wounded him; he jumped from his chair, returned fire on the assassins, killed two, and put the others to death. One of the dead receives the traitor to whom His Royal Highness had given money in Avignon.
  The Prince departed for Leipzig, and the Chevalier de la Luze, after carrying out his mission by escorting him to a certain German court where he remained for ten days, took his leave. Edward, accompanied only by his gentleman-in-waiting and two servants, traveled through various states whose sovereigns were not all equally well-disposed towards him. Upon his arrival in Lithuania, he received a visit from a very illustrious person to whom he was intimately attached. He had several secret meetings with her in a castle belonging to the House of Wizinski. Many people, the author says, have asserted that this Prince was married; but nothing could be further from the truth; it is true, he adds, that he loves a Princess and is loved in return, and that, if his affairs take a more favorable turn, this union will soon take place. But in his current situation, he refuses to marry, so as not to become, as he himself says, a father of royal beggars. There you have it, sir, how far the author of this letter has taken his hero. He tells us neither what becomes of him, nor the purpose of his journey. Moreover, this pamphlet is very poorly written.

*See Année Littéraire 1756, Volume 2, page 289.

For for a complete list of reviews of Eliza Haywood's works—including works in translation, such as this—see here.

Another French Review of The Rash Resolve

In 2023, I located this, a second, very short review of Emanuella (An 9), the 1801 French translation of Haywood’s The Rash Resolve (1724).

This review appeared in Nouvelle bibliothèque des romans [the New Library of Novels], Vol. 36 (An 3 [1800]): 187 (online here and here), in the section for "Des Romans qui ont paru dans le premier trimester de la troisième année de la Bibliothèque des Romans [Novels that were published in the first quarter of the third year of the Bibliothèque des Romans].

* * * * *

EMANUELLA, ou la Découverte prématurée, par madame Elise Haywood; 1 vol. avec figures, traduit de l'anglais. Paris chez Ouvrier, libraire, rue Saint-André-des-Arcs, no. 41.

  Séduite par un jeune homme, volée par son amie, Emanuella est reçue par une pauvre femme elle accouche d'un fils, reconnaît son amant qui est devenu l'époux d'une autre, et meurt de chagrin: style agréable, et de l'intérêt.

[EMANUELLA, or the Premature Discovery, by Mrs. Eliza Haywood; 1 vol. with illustrations, translated from English. Paris, at Ouvrier, bookseller, rue Saint-André-des-Arcs, no. 41

Seduced by a young man, robbed by her friend, Emanuella is taken in by a poor woman, she gives birth to a son, recognizes her lover who has become the husband of another, and dies of grief: a pleasant style, and of interest.]

For for a complete list of reviews of Eliza Haywood's works—including works in translation, such as this—see here.

A German Review of Jenny and Jemmy Jessamy

Haywood's The History of Jenny and Jemmy Jessamy (1753) was translated into German as Die Schule des Ehestandes, oder die Geschichte Herrn Jacob Jessamy und Miß Jenny Jessamys (1777).

A short review of this edition appeared in Allgemeines Verzeichniß neuer Bücher, mit kurzen Anmerkungen nebst einem gelehrten Anzeiger, Auf das Jahr 1777 [i.e., General list of new books, with brief notes and a scholarly review, for the year 1777].

I missed this review when I was researching my Bibliography of Eliza Haywood in 2004, but I stumbled upon it on Google Books in 2022, and it has been in my backlog of posts since then. Below is my transcription and translation (via Google Translate). If anyone cares to improve on either transcription or translation please let me know.

Allgemeines Verzeichniß neuer Bücher, vol. 2, no. 11 (November 1777): 838 (No. 1695) (here and here):

1695. Die Schule des Ehestandes, oder die Geschichte Herrn Jacob Jessamy und Miß Jenny Jessamys, von dem Verfasser der Geschichte der Elisabeth Thougthleß. Aus dem Englischen übersetzt. Drey Theile. Lüneburg, bey Joh. Friedr. Wilhelm Semcke, 1777. 2 Alphab[ete]. 1¼ Bogen in 8. I thlr. 4gr.

So sehe auch Deutschland von theils eignen, theils fremben Romanen wimmelt, so zeichnen sich doch diejenigen, die aus dem Englischen übergetragen werden, immer noch am meisten aus. Der gegenwärtige, dessen Verfasser sich schon durch die Geschichte der Elisabeth Thoughtleß bekannt gemacht hat, enthalt zwar nichts Außerordentliches, es geht alles nach der gewöhnlichen Art, aber demohnerachtet ift er nicht übel geschrieben, und läßt sich ganz wohl lesen.

[1695. The School of Marriage, or the Story of Mr. Jacob Jessamy and Miss Jenny Jessamy, by the author of the History of Elizabeth Thoughtless. Translated from the English. Three parts. Lüneburg, published by Joh. Friedr. Wilhelm Semcke, 1777. 2 alphabets [plus] 1¼ gatherings in 8vo [i.e., 47¼ signed 8vo gatherings]. 1 thaler, 4 groschen.

Although Germany teems with novels, some native and some foreign, those translated from English are still the ones that stand out the most. The present work, whose author is already known for The History of Elizabeth Thoughtless, contains nothing extraordinary; it all proceeds in the usual manner. Nevertheless, it is not badly written and is quite easy to read.]

For for a complete list of reviews of Eliza Haywood's works—including works in translation, such as this—see here.

An Anonymous Review of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy, 1865

An unsigned review of Eliza Haywood's The History of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy appeared in The Saturday Review of Politics, Literature, Science, and Art, vol. 20, no. 506 (8 July 1865): 52a–53b (here). It seems to have been prompted by the writer reading Sir Walter Scott’s novel Old Mortality (1816), which is alluded to at the start of this review.

In the Conclusion of Old Mortality, an old woman declares: “I have not been more affected … by any novel, excepting the ‘Tale of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy,’ which is indeed pathos itself.” The old woman is a figure of fun. In his autobiographical “Memoirs of the Life of Sir Walter Scott,” Scott writes: “The whole Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy tribe I abhorred; and it required the art of Burney, or the feeling of Mackenzie, to fix my attention upon a domestic tale.”

The old woman’s enthusiasm for the History of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy is not unlike Isabella’s enthusiasm for the “horrid novels” mentioned in Northanger Abbey, books that had been so thoroughly forgotten that they “were later thought to be of Austen’s own invention” until “Montague Summers and Michael Sadleir re-discovered in the 1920s that the novels actually did exist.” (here)

The anonymous author of the present review seems to have had a similar motivation to Summers and Sadleir: being an enthusiast for Scott (rather than Austen), and wanting to establish that The History of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy “actually did exist”—like the “Northanger ‘horrid’ novels.”

His conclusion is that The History of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy, not only exists, but "is skillfully constructed, without sacrifice of probability, or recourse to claptrap of any kind"—that it is "by no means a contemptible book … and if it never excites, it never becomes wholly devoid of interest."

Not only is this one of the longest, but it is also one of the fairest reviews Haywood's novel received in the two centuries following its release. It is a shame that [1] it is anonymous and [2] it has been overlooked completely. (For my post on "Eliza Haywood's Reputation before the 20C," see here; for 18C reviews of works by Haywood, see here.)

* * * * *

JEMMY AND JENNY JESSAMY.*

IN the preface or introduction to one of Sir Walter Scott’s novels, an old lady is represented discoursing with the author, and expressing her admiration of some previous production of his brain. The novel she commends is, in her opinion, the best that was ever written, except the History of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy. As for that immortal history, it was an ideal of perfection, never to be equalled in this defective world. Mankind had only to wonder that such excellence had ever been presented in a visible shape. Unless memory is very treacherous, we once in early youth saw [page 52b] on the walls of some country inn or lodging-house two coloured prints, respectively representing a young gentleman and lady in old-fashioned costume, and purporting to be Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy. We are even inclined to recollect that in those works of art an attempt was made to combine the effects of painting and sculpture by an extremely simple process not uncommon in the last century. The coloured figures were carefully cut out and pasted upon a black ground, but one of the arms was purposely left destitute of the adhesive material, and allowed to project forwards. If the figure was that of a lady, and the unstuck hand held a nosegay, the effect was considered by competent judges to be pretty and natural. What an instructive paper, by the way, might be written on the successive ornaments that have decorated the walls and mantelpieces of the less opulent classes during (say) the last hundred years! The record would be of quaint designs in worsted, of violently-coloured mezzotints traceable to the now forgotten establishment of Messrs. Bowles and Carver in St. Paul’s Churchyard, of horrid waxwork groups on scriptural subjects, of black velvet used as an imitation of the feline coat, of elder-pith and minute rolls of paper applied to the adornment of various unserviceable boxes—all objects that belonged to a past generation, and can never return save through a retrogression in taste that is scarcely to be considered possible.
  Such a thing of the past is the History of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy, which, as we have seen, was most famous in its day. When a book, or an actor, or an event becomes the subject of a casual reference or of a cheap print, and that in an age when there are no illustrated newspapers hungering after appropriate topics, we may be assured that it was familiar to a very large number of persons, and that the knowledge of it was by no means confined to those of superior culture. We may assume that Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy were characters known to that large class of the public which in the last century certainly did not read much. That to the ears of many of our readers the names of interesting couple will have something of a familiar ring, we are inclined to believe. Still more strong is our opinion that the whole body of those who know of them any more than their names might easily be accommodated in a china-closet of moderate dimensions. Nay, having carefully, and with no small effort, read through the novel, we are ready to confess a certain complacent satisfaction at the circumstance that we are in possession of a modicum of erudition vouchsafed to almost none of our fellow creatures. We feel that it is simply a moral restraint which prevents us from indulging in the most reckless mendacity while describing Mrs. Eliza Haywood’s work, and that if we refrain from saying, for example, that Jemmy Jessamy is King James II., and Jenny Jessamy the Duchess of Marlborough in disguise, we are governed wholly by regard for truth, and not by any fear of detection in falsehood.
  There is something very misleading both in the title of the novel and in the fact of its former popularity. There is a sort of affinity between the words “Jessamy” and “Jessamine” (or Jasmine), and there is a homely Anglicism in the “ Jemmy” and the “Jenny,” that lead one to expect a tale of pastoral love in which the insipidity of the ordinary Damon and Phyllis will be rendered additionally nauseous by an infusion of home-grown sentimentality. No one can be more fluent than your genuine Britisher in twaddling about the innocence of rural life. With this hypothesis deduced from the title-page of the book, the ingenious speculator may account for the rise and fall of the Jessamy mania. Once people liked stories about well-bred rustics who talked a great deal of highflown stuff, but they have long ceased to relish incitements of the sort. Jenny Jessamy was some village maiden, dishonourably courted by some wicked squire, who cruelly persecuted her proper lover, Jemmy. At last virtue triumphed, the squire was overthrown, and very probably Jemmy turned out to be the lawful owner of his wrongly-held estate. All very well in its time, but folks like something different now. Since the days of the old-fashioned romances they have been well fed with historical fictions, and, having become tired of them in their turn, have comfortably settled into a contemplation of modern actual life, viewed, just at present, under somewhat stormy aspects.
  So much more plausible does this hypothesis look than many serious historical theories, that one feels a regret in demolishing it utterly with the declaration that never was a book less sentimental, less pastoral, or less obviously addressed to any transient caprice of the reading world than this same story of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy. The young gentleman is heir to a large estate, and has been duly educated at Eton and Oxford. The young lady, a distant cousin, is daughter of a wealthy merchant, and grows up a model of high-bred propriety. The respective parents of Jemmy and Jenny destine them for each other, and die, leaving them in a state of complete independence at an early age. They are expected by their acquaintance to marry immediately, but several instances of domestic unhappiness which come under their immediate notice determine them not to be too precipitate, Jenny being the leader on the road of wisdom. “Every one,” says that sage young maiden, “before they engage in marriage, should be well versed in all those things, whatever they are, which constitute the happiness of it; this town is an ample school, and both of us have acquaintance enough in it to learn, from the mistakes of others, how to regulate our own conduct and passions so as not to be laughed at ourselves for what we laugh at in them.” For these remarks she is well rewarded by Jemmy with the exclamation, “Spoken like a philosophoress”! The [page 53a] instances of conjugal discomfort form the subjects of short episodes, the authoress throughout adopting the method which we find employed by Cervantes, Scarron, Le Sage, Fielding, Smollett, etc., of interweaving the main story with others sometimes scarcely connected with it. Generally the incidents narrated are not of a very exciting kind, though they sometimes illustrate a lax state of society. Here a married gentleman of distinction has a mistress in every respect inferior to his own wife; there a married lady of quality pays her gaming debts at the expense of her honour. More eccentric than these is a certain Lady Fisk, who “went to Covent Garden in man’s clothes, picked up a woman of the town, and was severely beaten by her on the discovery of her sex.” But the prevailing tone of the book is decidedly grave and moral, and, though there is more plain-speaking than at the present day, it is quite obvious that the authoress is never intentionally licentious.
  When Jemmy and Jenny have wisely resolved to prepare them-selves for the marriage state, they are separated for some time, Jenny going to Bath with some friends of rank and position, whose mild adventures help to swell out the volumes, and Jemmy, through some business engagement, being constantly hindered from joining her. Though the young gentleman is somewhat of a libertine, and apt to indulge in transient amours, he never thinks of breaking his engagement with his dear Jenny, who, on her side, never indulges in jealousy. Her virtue, indeed, while of the purest quality, is at the same time of that robust kind that does not depend on innocence, and at little more than twenty years of age she can perfectly distinguish between the aimless peccadilloes of male unmarried youth and those aberrations that are likely to result in a breach of promise of marriage. The following little speech which she makes on one occasion to her Jemmy illustrates with singular plainness her general views on the subject of masculine constancy:

“Make no vows on this last head (fidelity) I beseech you. I have heard people much older and more experienced than ourselves say that the soonest [sic, for surest] way to do a thing is to resolve against it. Besides, my dear Jemmy,” added she, with the most engaging sprightliness, “I shall not be so unreasonable to expect more constancy from you than human nature and your constitution will allow; and if you are as good as you can, may very well content myself with your endeavours to be better.”

The only serious obstacle to the happiness of these lovers arises through the machinations of Bellpine, a false friend of Jemmy’s, who, having become enamoured of Jenny and her fortune, vainly tries to make Jemmy fall seriously in love with a certain Miss Chit, famed for the excellence of her singing, but is more successful in spreading a report of Jemmy’s serious inconstancy which reaches the ears of Jenny. When the machinations of Bellpine are discovered, he is so terribly mauled by the injured Jemmy, in single combat, that his life is despaired of, and the avenger flies to France to escape the consequences of too successful duelling. However, the wounded man recovers; Jenny, going as one of a wedding-party to Paris, joins the disconsolate Jemmy, and brings him back safe and sound to marry her in the “Abbey Church of Westminster.”
  There is the whole story—that is to say, the main story, stripped of its details and ramifications. That in itself it is not “sensational,” will be at once perceived; let us hasten to state that nothing whatever is done to make it so. The personages part, meet again flirt, quarrel, faint, and fall into each other’s arms; but, do what they will, they no more lay claim to our sympathies than would a set of well-dressed and cleverly-managed puppets in a Fantoccini. We are told a great deal about love and hatred, but we never see them expressed. Of the art of representing an emotion, so as to kindle something corresponding in the mind of any reader of the present day, the authoress has not the slightest notion; and even when a passion is declared by one of the principal characters, we are convinced that the speaker is less concerned about his heart than about the rounding of his periods, though these are not very well rounded after all. Nor is any appeal made to the appreciation of wit and repartee, as in the writings of Congreve, and other heartless hierarchs of a peculiar worship of intellect. In the whole compass of three good-sized volumes there is not a smart saying that one would care to record as a specimen of superficial brilliancy.
  At humour or at delineation of character no attempt is made. The personages all belong to the highest ranks of a very artificial society, lounge through their time in London and Bath, amuse one another with elaborate gallantries, and indulge in copious but not reckless verbosity. More pains are taken with Jenny’s character than with that of the others, but she is such a mere incarnation of the views entertained by the authoress that her speeches are scarcely to be distinguished from the moral exordia which are uttered by Mrs. Eliza Haywood, in her own person, at the commencement of many chapters.
  Some of the personages, void of individuality as they all are, were possibly intended to adumbrate well-known realities of the day. Miss Chit, who attracts all the fashionable world by her excellent singing, and is supposed to have a father of higher station than her ostensible parent; Celandrine, a cowardly lady-killer, who ignominiously refuses a challenge at a period when a recognition of the old code of honour was implied in social morality; Lady Fisk, who gets into street rows—these might perhaps have been recognised by the readers of the middle of the last century as persons whose follies and vices were the subject of common talk. In her early days, Mrs. Haywood, who seems to have been born somewhere about 1693, and died in 1756, formed herself upon the more celebrated Mrs. Manley, and wrote two books—[53b] entitled the Court of Carimania, and the New Utopia—which owed their popularity to the quantity of scandal they contained, and caused Pope to bestow upon their authoress a few coarse lines in the Dunciad, which, whatever might have been the provocation, were most disgraceful to the poet. When she wrote her later works, of which Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy, attained the greatest celebrity, she had become a reformed character, and a most ostentatious preacher of such morality as was current at the time. But there is no reason to assume that she entirely left off her old habits, and altogether forbade herself the pleasure of writing a little harmless unobtrusive scandal at the expense of her acquaintance. If the cap did not fit, no harm was done; if it did, the reader was to be blamed for putting it on.
  But what will most strike a modern thinker is the tone of wisdom in which Mrs. Haywood utters her ethical platitudes. It is hard to conceive the degree of naïveté with which both writer and reader must have been endowed when passages like following were considered instructive:

Youth, beauty, and wit have deservingly a very powerful influence on [sic, for over] the human heart; and every day’s [sic, for day,] experience obliges us to own that wealth without the aid of any of these, is of itself sufficient to captivate; it supplies all other defects; it smooths the wrinkles of fourscore; it shapes deformity into comeliness, and gives graces to idiotism itself; as it is said by the inimitable Shakespeare:

Gold! yellow glittering precious gold!
Gold! that will make black white; foul fair; wrong right;
Base noble; old young; cowards valiant.

But when the gifts of nature are joined with those of fortune, how strong is the attraction! How irresistible is the force of such united charms! According to the words of the humorous poet—

Hence ’tis, no lover has the pow’r
T’enforce a desperate amour,
As he that has two strings to’s bow,
And burns for love and money too.

  We ought not therefore, methinks, to judge with too much severity on the vanity of a fine lady; who seeing herself perpetually surrounded with a crowd of lovers, each endeavouring to excel all his rivals in the most extravagant demonstrations of affection, can hardly believe she deserves not some part, at least, of the admiration she receives. But what pretence soever we may make to excuse the weakness of exulting in a multiplicity of lovers, it is still a weakness which all imaginable care ought to be taken to subdue; as it may draw on the most fatal consequences both on the admirers and admired.

All this is sound and charitable enough, but one could scarcely find a more perfect specimen of the grave kind of twaddle. Let a fluent writer once choose his moral theory, and he may cover as many pages as there are lines in the above with a specious exhibition of wisdom that will scarcely require the most moderate expenditure of thought. The quotations from Shakespeare and Butler are singularly illustrative of the period at which the book was written. The old pedantic habit of overloading a text with citations from Greek and Latin authors crudely massed together, after the manner of Burton, had passed away, but far more celebrated writers than Mrs. Haywood show us that people in the middle of the last century had not learned clearly to distinguish between illustration and proof. If the fair Eliza can back up an opinion, which none but a lunatic would think of contradicting, with a distich from that great master of the human heart, Mr. Dryden, or with half a dozen lines from Cowley, “who was certainly as great a judge of love as was Ovid himself,” she feels that she has made assurance doubly sure.
  With all the peculiarities which will seem so strange to a modern reader, the History of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy is by no means a contemptible book. The story is skillfully constructed, without sacrifice of probability, or recourse to claptrap of any kind; and if it never excites, it never becomes wholly devoid of interest. Moreover, it would be hard to find a more perfect specimen of that satisfaction with a thoroughly worldly and semi-Pagan morality which at a later period earned for the eighteenth century the epithet “Godless,” than in the rules of life laid in the course of this once famous novel.

*The History of Jemmy and Jenny Jessamy. By Mrs. Haywood.

A Dutch Review of Idalia (1723)

The following review of Idalie, of De ongelukkige minnares (1803), a Dutch translation of the 1770 French translation of Idalia: Or, The Unfortunate Mistress (1723), appeared in Vaderlandsche letteroefeningen, No.15 (1804): 656–57 (online here; for information on this newly-discovered translation, see my earlier post here; for a complete list of reviews of Eliza Haywood's works—including works in translation—see here).

As far as I can tell from my crude translation below, the reviewer was not terribly impressed with the plot, the protagonist, or the moral of the story, but the characterisation of Idalia (a "coquettish, manly girl"), plot outline ("madly in love, carelessly careless, raped, seduced, and complicated in many sadnesses") the criticisms offered ("such girls must be locked up"!) do suggest why a modern reader might enjoy the book a bit more than our 1803 reviewer did!

Hopefully, someone fluent in Dutch, French and English will sit down one day and compare the three texts, and let us know how much the plot has been changed from English to French and French to Dutch. Our reviewer does not really say enough about the plot to indicate whether it has been changed radically, but in the case of The Fortunate Foundlings, which was translated from English to French and then from French back into English, the ending was changed completely each time, giving three quite different plots, to say nothing of the characterisation etc.

* * * * *

Idalie, of de Ongelukkige Minnares. Naar het Fransch. Met Plaaten. Te Amsterdam, by G. Roos. In gr. 8vo. 300 bl.

Een Boek, waar by wy juist driemaal zyn ingesluimerd; eindelyk zyn wy het toch doorgeworfteld, en weten nu de geschiedenis van de ongelukkige Minnares en nog van ene Barbarysche Princesse, maar werden er noch wyzer, noch beter door, en de lezing gaf ons zelfs geen enkel aangenaam ogenblik. Wy kennen nu toch Idalie; zodanige meisjes moest men opsluiten, indien namentlyk hare deugd niet beter bevestigd is, dan die van dit coquette, manzieke meisje, niemand toch kon haar aanzien, of hy werd ogenbliklyk op haar verliefd, en vergat ook aanstonds alle zyne verbintenissen en betrekkingen. Wy zien haar hier, in mannen en vrouwen gewaad, te water en te land, mal verliefd, voorbeeldloos onvoorzichtig, verkracht, verleid, en in velerleije verdrietlykheden ingewikkeld. Het verhaal is smaakloos, en styl en taal zyn, in deze overzetting althands, ellendig genoeg. Eindelyk steekt zy zich zelve dood, en, hoezeer wy den zelfmoord wraken, was ons dit nu toch aangenaam, omdat wy nu niets meer van haar horen zullen. De Voorredenaar meent, dat, daar het Leezen van Romanicke geschriften t hands zo zeer als ooit, in den smaak der jonge lieden valt, men niet genoegzaam kan zorgen dat zy dezen kunnen smaak aan zulke geschriften kunnen voldoen, waarin niets schadelyks voor de goede zeden is aan te treffen; en daarom heeft hy dan voor de vertaling uit het Fransch van deze oorspronglyk Engelsche Roman gezorgd. Wie kan berekenen, welk een aantal soortgelyke Geschriften deze zyne zorgvuldigheid ons in het vervolg nog ter beöordeling bezorgen zal? Dat de man zich toch minder met onnodige zorgen mogt pynigen!

[Idalie, or the Unfortunate Lover. From the French. With plates. At Amsterdam, by G. Roos. In gr. 8vo. 300 bl.

A Book, whereby we have justly snoozed three times; I finally got through it, and now I know the history of the Unfortunate Lover and one Barbary Princess, but they [the characters] didn’t get any wiser or better, and the reading didn’t even give us a single pleasant moment. We now know Idalia; such girls must be locked up, if her virtue is not better confirmed than that of this coquettish, manly girl; no one could look at her, or he fell in love with her, and soon forgot all his commitments and relationships. We see her here, in men’s and women’s robes, on water and on land, madly in love, carelessly careless, raped, seduced, and complicated in many sadnesses. The story is tasteless, and style and language are, in this translation, miserable enough. Finally she stabs herself to death, and—however much we disapprove of suicide—this was now pleasant to us, because we will not hear from her anymore. The Preface-writer believes that since the Reading of Novel writings is as much as ever in the taste of the young people, one cannot sufficiently ensure that they can taste such writings in which there is nothing harmful to good morals can be found; and therefore he arranged for the translation from French of this originally-English novel. Who can calculate, what number of similar writings this care will still provide us with in the future? That a man may be less concerned about unnecessary worries!]

[Updated 7 November 2019]

Early Reviews of Haywood's Memoirs of Utopia (1725–26)

The following note and editorial addition, concerning Haywood's Memoirs of a Certain Island Adjacent to the Kingdom of Utopia, appears in the Critical Review, 4 (November 1757): 272 (online here):

To the Author of the Critical Review.

SIR,
  LAST winter a book called Modern Lovers was published, pr. 3 s. but in fact was only part of The Memoirs of Utopia. This month the same publisher has exhibited a book called Prostitutes of Quality, which is likewise extracted from Memoirs of Utopia, and yesterday a book was published, called Memoirs of B— Tracey, which in fact is only a part of an absence book, called A History of the Human Heart, which is not fit to be read by the public.

Nov. 26, 1757.
      Your obedient servant,
            T. L.

N. B. The authors of The Critical Review are obliged to T. L. for the above letter; and should be obliged to him for the same sort of information hereafter; for they would heartily join him in detecting such notorious and infamous impositions on the public.

The four works mentioned here are:

[1] Modern Lovers; Or, The Adventures of Cupid, the God of Love: A Novel (London: Printed for J. Cooke, at the King’s-Arms, in Great-Turnstile, Holbourn, 1756); ESTC: t66385.

[2] Prostitutes of Quality; Or, Adultery á-la-mode. Being Authentic and Genuine Memoirs of Several Persons of the Highest Quality (London: Printed for J. Cooke, and J. Coote, opposite Devereux-Court, in the Strand, 1757); ESTC: t46030.

[3] Memoirs of B— Tracey (London: Printed for J. King, in Great Turnstile, Holborn, [1757]); ESTC: t118902.

[4] A History of the Human Heart; Or, The Adventures of a Young Gentleman (London: Printed for J. Freeman, 1749); ESTC: n17696.

* * * * *

Putting aside, for a moment, the question of whether [1] Modern Lovers and [2] Prostitutes of Quality are, in fact, "only part of The Memoirs of Utopia"—the other two works are certainly related to each other: [3] Memoirs of B— Tracey is "in fact is only a part of" [4] A History of the Human Heart—about two-thirds of the former being a word-for-word reprint of the latter (i.e., about 214 of 314 pages). Both titles appear in George Colman's imaginary "Catalogue of a Circulating Library," as nos. 142 and 89, which I posted here.

T. L. wasn’t the only person to comment on the thefts. The Monthly Review, notes Memoirs of B— Tracey is “All stolen from a wretched book, published about seven years ago, entitled, The History of the Human Heart; and now imposed upon the Public for a new Work.” And the reviewer at Annales typographiques comments on “Mémoires du baron Tracey,” that it is “Pillé d'un mauvais livre publié il y a sept ans, intitulé: The history of the human heart [Stolen from a wicked book published seven years ago, entitled: The history of the human heart].

* * * * *

As for [1] Modern Lovers and [2] Prostitutes of Quality (Coleman nos. 153 and 163): both are comprised exclusively of unauthorised reprints from Haywood’s Memoirs of a Certain Island Adjacent to the Kingdom of Utopia (1725–26), 2 vols. The eighteen chapters of Modern Lovers being very lightly revised, out-of-sequence excerpts from Memoirs of Utopia (1725), 61–71, 89–91, 103–25, 140–74, 177–94, 196–210, 260–74; the six stories in Prostitutes of Quality being even more lightly revised, out-of-sequence excerpts from Memoirs of Utopia (1725), 58–71, 72–120, 121–26, 126–56, 265–75 and Memoirs of Utopia, vol.2 (1726), 126–40.

The publisher of these two unautorised reprints, J. Cooke, appended the following to his first volume of stolen text:

I am but just commenced Author, and therefore cannot form any Judgment of my Ability to please or instruct the Public; but one Thing I can venture to promise, that if this Performance meets with a general Approbation, the Public shall hear again from their
      Most obedient Servant,
            Cupid

The publisher's misdirection continued in the Gazetteer and London Daily Advertiser, 10 November 1756, where Cooke notes "Great Enquiry having been made to discover the Author of this Performance; this is to assure the Public … that the Characters herein are all general, and not pointed at any particular Person, as hath been most falsely suggested.”

In 1756, the Monthly Review did not recognise Cooke desception, commenting only that Cupid “is here made to relate a number of silly, barren stories, each chapter being a distinct history," and noting that "At the end of the book, the public is threatned with a future visitation from the same quarter.” That "future visitation" was [2] Prostitutes of Quality.

With the publication of Prostitutes of Quality in 1757, both the Critical Review and Monthly Review recognised Cooke desception. The Critical Review is quoted at the start of this post—the Monthly Review adds that Prostitutes of Quality is “Cull’d from the lewd Eutopian romances that so much delighted the chamber-maids and ’prentices of the last age:—Surely, such wretched author-craft cannot fail of its reward!”

What is particularly interesting here is to see the reaction of reviewers when confronted with Haywood’s early work—after her death—work that was published before any of these journals, dedicated to reviewing literature, were established. The Monthly Review described the passages from Memoirs of Utopia as "silly, barren stories" in 1756, and “lewd” and “wretched” in 1757, but there is a back-handed complement, a grudging recognition, that the book “delighted … chamber-maids and ’prentices.” T. L., however, identifies all of the works he(?) mentions as “not fit to be read by the public.”

* * * * *

BTW: I am not really sure what "an absence book" is, unless absence is Latinate pun with ab- and sense: ab- being a prefix meaning "off, away, from" and, therefore, absence may be synonymous with something like "senseless." But this is a stretch. If there is an accepted meaning of this word/phrase, I am not familiar with, and neither are the editors of the OED.

Alternatively, "an absence book" may be a book in which absentees from Sunday School were noted, i.e., a naughty-book. The phrase is first recorded in the early nineteenth-century, but may be earlier. See, for instance, here in Hints for Conducting Sunday Schools (1811).

[NOTE: this is a revised and expanded version of a post I did almost six years ago.]

A French Review of A Letter from Henry Goring

The following review of Lettre de H.... G....g ecuyer, un des gentilshommes de la chambre du jeune Chevalier de S. George, a French translation of Haywood’s A Letter from H---- G----g, Esq; One of the Gentlemen of the Bed-Chamber to the Young Chevalier, appears in L’Année littéraire, 7 (1756): 38–43 (here).

The review is comprised mainly of a summary of the contents of Ab.66 A Letter from H---- G----g, but it begins with an explanation that the pamphlet was sold by monsieur Prault, on the Quai de Conti (a wharf, over-looking the Seine), towards the Pont Neuf (the "new Bridge" to Sainte Chapelle and Notre-Dame Cathedral on Île de la Cité). This appears to be the same "Chez Prault l’Aîné, Quai de Conti" who later published the French translation of The History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless early in 1754 (Ab.67.11 L’Etourdie).

The anonymous review concludes with a pithy assessment of the writing: "That, sir, is how far the author of this Letter led his hero. He does not tell us what he is, or what is the purpose of his journey. This pamphlet is also very poorly written."

* * * * *

Lettre sur le Prétendant.

  L'histoire des disgraces du Prince Edouard a fait autrefois, Monsieur, le sujet d'une de mes Lettres.* Les voyages de ce Prince depuis son départ d'Avignon jusqu'à son arrivée en Lithuanie font la matière d'une brochure in-12 qui se vend chez Prault, Quai de Conti, à la descente du Pont-Neuf. Elle est intitulée: Lettre de H..... G.... G.... Ecuyer, un des Gentilshommes de la Chambre du jeune Chevalier de Saint George, [et] la seule personne de sa Cour qui l'ait accompagné d'Avignon dans son voyage en Allemagne [et] autres lieux: contenant plusieurs aventures touchantes [et] remarquables qui sont arrivées à ce Prince pendant le cours de son voyagé secret: à un ami particulier; traduite de l'Anglois par M. l'Abbé ***.
  On raconte dans cette Lettre vraie ou prétendue qu'un gentilhomme, qui se faisoit appeller le Chevalier de la Luze, étant arrivé à Avignon, eut avec le Prince des conférences secrettes, [et] partit peu de jours après. Le Prince ne tarda pas à le suivre, accompagné seulement d'un gentilhomme, d'un valet de chambre [et] de deux domestiques. Pour n'être point connu, il se fit appeller le Comte d'Espoir, [et] il prit sa route par Lyon. Il descendit dans un village à deux lieues plus loin que cette ville; il s'enferma dans une chambre, passa la nuit à écrire des lettres, [et] le lendemain il renvoya tout son monde excepté son gentilhomme. L'hôte chez lequel il logeoit lui trouva d'autres domestiques. Le Prince continua sa route par Dijon [et] par Nancy, [et] il arriva à Strasbourg où le Chevalier de la Luze lui avoit fait préparer un logement. Quelques jours après le feu prit pendant la nuit dans une maison qui étoit vis à-vis de son appartement. Il fut bientôt éveillé par le bruit; il s'habilla [et] sortit pour aller au secours. Ses gens voulurent le retenir: Eh quoi, s'écria-t-il, sommes nous donc nés pour avoir soin seulement de nous mêmes? Et aussi-tôt il vole à l'endroit où le feu faisoit le plus de ravage. L'objet qui le frappe d'abord est une jeune femme qui avoit la moitié du corps passé hors de la fenêtre, [et] qui crioit au secours parce qu'elle étoit dans une chambre où le feu avoit pris de toutes parts. Le Prince lui dit de se jetter en bas, [et] qu'il la recevroit dans ses bras. Il la reçut en effet sans qu'elle se fît aucun mal; [et] comme elle étoit en chemise, dit l'auteur, il l'emporta chez lui, la mit dans son lit, l'enveloppa dans ses couvertures pour empêcher qu'elle ne s'enrhumât. La crainte du danger avoit fait perdre connoissance à cette jeune [et] aimable personne, de sorte que pendant tout ce temps elle sut totalement insensible au soin qu'il prenoit d'elle. Le Prince de son' côté, loin de profiter de l'état où elle se troavoit, ne s'occupoit qu'à la saire revenir de son évanouissement. Quand elle eut repris ses sens, il la, recommanda à la maîtresse du logis, [et] retourna au feu qui duroit toujours. Le lendemain il dîna avec la jeune Demoiselle, le Chevalier de lu Luze, [et] son gentilhomme. Le repas sut gai, la conversation tendre [et] galante; [et] la Demoiselle, pénétrée de reconnoissance [et] frappée des vertus [et] de la bonne mine de son libérateur, se troubla, quitta la table, [et] alla prendre l'air un moment à la fenêtre. Le Prince la suivit [et] lui parla; la Luze [et] son gentilhomme voulurent le laisser seul avec elle. Il les retint auprès de lui dans la crainte qu'un tête à tête ne lui fît perdre le prix de son bienfait. Il se sépara de cette charmante personne, comme Alexandre qui voyant la beauté des filles de Darius se retira sur le champ de leur présence.
  Tandis que le Prince Edouard étoit à Avignon, un Anglois, qui se disoit gentilhomme, étoit venu lui demander un emploi auprès de fa personne. Comme ìl n'y en avoit point de vacant, le Prince lui donna quelque argent, [et] lui permit de venir manger dans son palais. On le soupçonna bientôt d'être un imposteur [et] un espion. On communiqua ces soupçons au Prince: cela pourroit bien être, répondit-il; mais nous n'en sommes pas certains; nous sçavons seulement qu'il est dans le besoin; [et] j'aimerois mieux secourir cent ennemis que de refuser à un ami, sur un simple soupçon, le peu de secours que je puis lui donner. Cet homme avoit disparu quelque temps avant le départ du Prince; on sut fort étonné de le retrouver à Strasbourg dans l'hôtellerie où logeoit son Altesse Royale. Le jout même le Prince quitta Strasbourg, passa le Rhin, [et] continua sa route par Wirtzbourg. A quelque distance de cette ville, cinq hommes bien montés, masqués [et] armés, déchargèrent leurs pistolets tous à la fois [et] sans dire mot dans la chaise où étoit le Prince. Aucune des balles ne le blessa; il sauta de sa chaise, sit feu à son tour contre les assassins, en tua deux, [et] mit les autres en suite. Un des morts écoit le traître à qui son Alteste Royale avoit donné de l'argent à Avignon.
  Le Prince partit pour Léipsick, [et] le Chevalier de la Luze, après avoir exécuté sa commission en le conduisant en une certaine Cour d'Allemagne où il demeura dix jours, prit congé de lui. Edouard, accompagné seulement de son gentilhomme [et] de deux domestiques, passa dans différens Etats dont les Souverains n'étoient pas tous également disposés en sa faveur. A son arrivée en Lithuanie il reçut la visite d'une personne très-illustre qui lui est intimement attachée. Il eut avec elle plusieurs entrevues secrettes dans un château appartenant à la maison de Wizinski. Bien des gens, dit l'auteur, ont assûré que ce Prince étoit marié; mais rien n'est plus faux; il est vrai, ajoûte-t-il, qu'il aime une Princesse [et] qu'il en est aimé, [et] que, si ses affaires prennent une face plus favorable, cette union ne tardera pas à se faire; mais dans la position où il est actuellement il ne veut point se marier, pour ne pas devenir père, comme il dit lui-même, de mendians Royaux. Voilà, Monsieur, jusqu'où l'auteur de cette Lettre a conduit son héros. Il ne nous apprend ni ce qu'il devient, ni quel est le but de son voyage. Cette brochure est d'ailleurs très-mal écrite.

*Voyez l'Année Littéraire 1756, Tome II page 289.

A French Review of Haywood's The Rash Resolve (1724)

The following very short review is of Emanuella, a French translation of Haywood’s The Rash Resolve, which appears in the Bibliothèque Française 9 (Nivôse An 9 [December 1800–January 1801]): 190–91 (here). It seems that the review is by the blind "homme de lettres" [man of letters] Marie Charles Joseph de Pougens (1755–1833)—he has a (French) Wikipedia page here—since it appears in a section titled "Notices par Charles Pougens" (ibid., 171). This review is not mentioned in my Bibliography of Eliza Haywood (under Ab.9.2).

* * * * *

Emanuella, ou la découverte prématurée. par mad. Elise Haywood. Trad. de l’Anglais. I v. in-12 de 264 p., fig. Ouvrier, rue St.-André-des-Arcs, no. 41.
  Des aventures simples, un style naturel, tels sont les principaux caractères de ce roman, dont la lecture plaira à tous ceux qui aiment à n’être que doucement intéressés.

[Emanuella, or The Premature Discovery. By Madam Elise Haywood. Translated from the English. 1 vol., 12mo. …
  Simple adventures and natural style, these are the principle characteristics of the novel, the reading of which will appeal to those who like to be only mildly engaged.]

For for a complete list of reviews of Eliza Haywood's works—including works in translation, such as this—see here.

[UPDATED 7 June 2026]

Contemporary Reviews of Haywood's New Present for a Servant-Maid (1771)

Below are transcripts of two contemporary reviews of Eliza Haywood's A New Present for a Servant-Maid (1771), a revision of A Present for a Servant-Maid (1743), with links to the original texts (now on Google Books). See here for a complete list of early reviews of Haywood's works available online.

* * * * *

Ab.58.9 A New Present for a Servant-Maid, Monthly Review 46 (April 1772): 463 (Article 59)—online here

Art. 59. A new Present for a Servant-Maid: containing Rules for her moral Conduct, both with respect to herself and her Superiors: the whole Art of Cookery, Pickling, Preserving, &c. With Marketing Tables, and Tables for calling- up Expences, &c. By Mrs. Haywood. 12mo. 2s. bound, Pearch, &c. 1771.

The Present for a Servant-Maid has been published, as a twelve-penny pamphlet, above 20 years; and was esteemed by your good housewifes (the race was not quite extinct, in this island, about 20 years ago) as a well-designed and valuable tract. The additions now made, relating to Cookery, and other domestic concerns, must render the work still more extensively useful.

* * * * *

Ab.58.9 A New Present for a Servant-Maid, The Critical Review 33 (June 1772): 500 (Art.43)—online here

43. A new Present for a Servant-Maid. 12mo. 2s. Pearch.

This is an improved edition of a pamphlet which has long been considered as useful.

Contemporary Reviews of Haywood's Clementina (1768)

Below are transcripts of three contemporary reviews of Eliza Haywood's Clementina (1768), a revision of The Agreeable Caledonian (1728–29), with links to the original texts (now on Google Books). See here for a complete list of early reviews of Haywood's works available online.

* * * * *

Ab.41.3 Clementina, Critical Review 25 (January 1768): 59 (Article 14)—online here

14. Clementina; or, the History of an Italian Lady, who made her Escape from a Monastery, for the Love of a Scots Nobleman, 12mo. Pr. 2s. 6d. Noble.

This is a republication of a dull, profligate, Haywoodian production, in which all the males are rogues, and all the females whores, without a glimpse of plot, fable, or sentiment

* * * * *

Ab.41.3 Clementina, The London Review 37 (January 1768): 47–48—online here

Clementina, or, The History of an Italian Lady, who made her Escape from a Monastery, for the Love of a Scots Nobleman, Noble.

In an advertisement prefixed to this little volume we learn, that it was written by Mrs. Haywood in the year 1728, and published under the title of the Agreeable Caledonian, so that it is now only vamped up with little more that a different title-page, and cannot consequently claim any attention as a new production.

* * * * *

Ab.41.3 Clementina, Monthly Review 38 (May 1768): 412 (Article 45)—online here

Art. 45. Clementina; or the History of an Italian Lady, who made her Escape from a Monastery, for the Love of a Scots Nobleman. 12mo. 3s. Noble.

We are told, in the advertisement prefixed to this Novel, that, it is not a new work; that it made its first appearance in 1728, under the title of The Agreeable Caledonian; that its author was the late Mrs. Eliza Haywood; and that the present edition is printed from a copy corrected by her, not long before her death,—It is like the rest of Mrs. Haywood's novels, written in a tawdry style, now utterly exploded; the romances of these days being reduced much nearer to the standard of nature, and to the manners of the living world.

Contemporary Reviews of Haywood's History of Leonora Meadowson (1788)

Below are transcripts of two contemporary reviews of Eliza Haywood's The History of Miss Leonora Meadowson (1788), a revision of Cleomelia (1726), with links to the original texts (now on Google Books). See here for a complete list of early reviews of Haywood's works available online.

* * * * *

Ab.35.2 The History of Leonora Meadowson, Critical Review 65 (March 1788): 236—online here

The History of Leonora Meadowson. By the Author of Betsy Thoughtless. 2 Vols. 5s. Noble.

The spirit which dictated Betsy Thoughtless is evaporated; the fire of the author scarcely sparkles. Even two meagre volumes could not be filled, without a little History of Melinda Fairfax;—without the Tale of Cornaro and the Turk,—a tale told twice, in verse and prose,—a tale already often published, and as often read.[**] Alas, poor author! we catch with regret thy parting breath.

But, as this is probably the last time that we shall meet, as we owe somewhat to the author of Betsy Thoughtless, our first guide in these delusive walks of fiction and fancy, we mast give a short account of the present work.—Leonora yields indiscreetly to the wishes of her first lover; she then marries another; the marries again, before she is happy, with the faithful Fleetwood, whom she thought inconstant. Mrs. Munden acted more prudently, though at first thoughtless and indiscreet. The tale is, however, neatly told, and we are interested in the fate of our heroine, notwithstanding her first indiscretion, and her two subsequent very unaccountable matches.

The story of Melinda Fairfax is that of the “Guardian,” which has been so often seen on the stage, though with some little variation. The Tale of Cornaro is well known: the poetical version we do not recollect. If it is the work of the author, he deserves our applause: the versification is elegant, and sometimes highly poetical. The descriptive parts are extremely well executed.

[**seemingly, a reference to John Whaley, "Cornaro and the Turk: A Tale," A Collection of Original Poems and Translations (London: Printed for the Author, 1745), 1–28 [ESTC: t101302], which was often reprinted. The Tale starts "Where, 'mid Italia's ever sunny lands; / Fast by the streams of Po, Ferrara stands." For reprints online, see here (1780, often reprinted), here (1807) and here (1811, sans title).]

* * * * *

Ab.35.2 The History of Leonora Meadowson, Town and Country Magazine 20 (April 1788): 154—online here.

The History of Leonora Meadowson. By the Author of Betsy Thoughtless 2 Vols. 5s. Noble.

In this work very little of the author's original fancy and spirit is to be found; but the poetical version of Camaro, a tale well known, is elegant and well executed.

Another French Review of The Female Spectator

I mentioned here that the “Avvertimento” (the preface) to the Italian translation of Eliza Haywood’s The Female Spectator (1744–46) quotes from a glowing review of this journal in the “Biblioteca Britannia”—but that I was unable to find the review in question until Google Books made it available. Since it is now available, I thought it would be useful to transcribe the French text here so that I can translate it (see Bibliothèque Britannique, vol.23, pt.2 (July–September 1746): 395–416 (Art 10).

[BTW: I have had to replace all 114 ampersands below with "[et]" since Blogger cannot be persuaded to display this character. Stupid Blogger. I have silently corrected a few typos—mostly t/r errors—but I have left archaic spellings intact, though these trip up Google Translate.]

[UPDATE 18 March 2017: since it is clear that I am not going to get around to doing a proper translation, I have added a Google translation of this text below.]

* * * * *

ARTICLE X.

The Female Spectator. London, printed and published by T. Gardner, at Cowley's Head, opposite St. Clement’s Churcb, in the Strand.

C'est-à-dire,

La Spectatrice: à Londres, chez T. Gardner. [et]c. C'est un in 8vo, dont il paroit tous les Mois une Brochure de 60 à 80 pagg. [et] dont la prémiere parut sur le milieu d'Avril 1744.

L'auteur de cet Ouvrage a beaucoup hazardé de se produire sous un Titre, qui reveille d'abord l’Idée d'un excellent Livre, dont il étoit à craindre que la Comparaison ne fût désavantageuse au sien. Pour |396| soutenir le Caractère de Spectatrice, [et] ne point deshonorer le Spectateur, dont on se dit la Sœur, il faut des Talens peu communs. Sans cela, il est à craindre, qu'un Ecrivain, qui s'est aquis, à si juste Titre, tant de Réputation, ne renie le Parentage, [et] ne fasse passer cette prétendue Sœur pour un Enfant supposé, qui ne fut jamais de sa Famille. La facilité, avec laquelle ces Réflexions se présentent à l'Esprit, ne nous permet pas de douter que la Spectatrice ne les ait faites; [et] qu'elle n'ait senti combien son Entreprise étoit périlleuse. Mais, si cela est, il faut que, remplie d'une noble Confiance, elle ait crû pouvoir soutenir un si grand Nom, [et] faire un Ouvrage, si non égal à celui de son Frere, du moins qui en approche, dans la même proportion qu'il y a entre les Talens [et] la Capacité d'un Homme dont l'Esprit est cultivé par l'Etude, [et] ceux d'une Femme qui n'a pas eu le même Avantage. Si l'on envisage la Spectatrice dans ce point de vûe, nous osons bien assurer, qu'elle ne s'est point trompée dans l'Idée avantageuse qu'elle a conçue d'elle même [et] de ses forces. Son Livre en général est, non seulement digne de la Sœur du Spectateur, mais on y trouve de plus un très grand Nombre de Morceaux, que son Frere feroit Gloire d'avoir composé, [et] qui nè lui feroient pas moins d'Honneur que ce que nous avons déjà de lui. On seroit même tenté de croire, qu'elle est en possession des Papiers du des- |397| sunt, [et] qu'elle ne fait autre chose que de mettre en œuvre, à sa maniere, les Matériaux que le Spectateuravoit amassé pour la Continuation de son Ouvrage. Ce qu'il y a de sûr c'est que la Sœur puise dans la mê-me Source que le Frère a puisé. Le but de celui-ci a été de corriger l'un [et] l'autre sexe de ses défauts; mais celle là en veut sur tout à ceux du beau-sexe. Pour cet effet, ils mettent tous deux en usage ce que le bon sens, l'Esprit, [et] l'usage du Monde peuvent fournir de bon [et] d'agréable; avec cette différence qu'on remarque plus de savoir dans les Ecrits du Frère, [et] que la, Sœur semble être mieux au fait de toutes les petites Histoires qui forment ce qu'on appelle la Chronique Scandaleuse. Elle les raconte d'une maniere fort agréable, sans nommer les Originaux, [et] les accompagne de Réflexions également judicieuses [et] délicates. Mais, voyons comment la Spectatrice parle elle même de sa personne, de son but, des moyens d'y arriver, [et] des secours qu'elle aura pour y atteindre.

[397–403, quote from “Liv. I. p. 4.”—starting with “Pour preuve de ma sincerité, dit-elle (a) je vous déclare d'abord que je n'ai jamais été belle, [et] que je suis bien éloignée d'être jeune; aveu que peu de Personnes de mon sexe seroient disposées à faire” and ending with “Tous ceux donc qui prétendront faire tomber, sur quelques Personnes en particulier, le blâme des Actions dont il fera fait mention dans ce Livre, ou qui voudront y faire ce qu'on appellé une Clé, doivent s'attendre à être traité, dans la partie suivante, avec toute la sevérité que mérite la Noirceur de leur procédé.” This is Ab.60.1 FS Book 1 (1744), pp.2–7: “As a Proof of my Sincerity, I shall, in the first place, assure him, that for my own Part I never was a Beauty, and am now very far from being young” to “Whoever, therefore, shall pretend to fix on any particular Person the Blame of Actions they may happen to find recorded here, or make what they call a Key to these Lucubrations, must expect to see themselves treated in the next Publication with all the Severity so unfair a Proceeding merits.”]

  Malgré cette Menace [et] toutes les autres précautions de la Spectatrice pour empêcher qu'on ne découvre les Originaux qu'elle a en Vûe, il ne faut pas douter que ceux de fes Lecteurs, qui sont un peu au fait de ce qui se passe en Angleterre, [et] surtout à Londres, n'en reconuoissent plusieurs. Au reste, il nous semble qu'elle ne doit point s'en mettre en peine; parce qu'il n'y aura que ceux qui savent déjà les Histoires qu'elle raconte, qui connoîtront les Masques. C'est à eux à avoir la discrétion de ne les point nommer. Quant aux autres, qui voudront déviner, il est probable qu'ils donneront à gauche plus souvent qu'ils ne rencontreront juste. La raison en est toute naturelle. Les Ornemens, qui accompagnent le Récit de la Spectatrice, dépaïseront aisément les Lecteurs , [et] seront Cause qu'on trouvera avec bien de la peine des Personnes à qui conviennent tous les traits, par lesquels elle caractérise les Acteurs qu'elle introduit fur la Scene. Cette difficulté, [et] la crainte de donner à faux, doivént empêcher toute Personne raisonnable de |404| se livrer à des Conjectures, propres à noircir, dans son Esprit, [et] dans celui de ceux à qui elle les communiquera, la réputation de son prochain.

  Pour achever l'exposition, que nous nous sommes proposé de faire, du plan [et] du but de la Spectatrice, il ne sera pas inutile de rapporter ici la maniére dont elle s'explique sur l'Article des Nouvelles que ses Espions devoient lui envoyer des païs étràngers. Ce qui lui donna lieu de le faire, ce fut une Lettre qu'elle reçut plusieurs Mois après que son Ouvrage eut commencé à paroitre (a). L'Auteur se plaint de ce que, malgré ses promesses, elle n'avoit encore régalé le Public d'aucune Nouvelle Politique.

[404–5, quote from “Liv. VIII. p. 118.”—starting “Châcun s'imaginoit, lui dit il que vous avies la Clé du Cabinet des Princes, [et] un fil pour vous guider dans le plus épais du Labyrinthe des Mystéres d'Etat; [et] que vous pénétriés sans peine dans tous les secrets ressorts de l'Ambition, de l'Avarice , [et] de la Vangeance, qui font de si terribles ravages.” ending “De grandes flottes couvrent l'Ocean, [et] aucun des Vents, qui font enfler tant de voiles, n'a apporté à la Spectatrice la Nouvelle du but de ces prodigieux Arméniens, ni des grands Exjploits que ceux qui les commandent ont faits, ou sont sur le point de faire.” This is: Ab.60 FS, Book 8 (1744), pp.119–20; starting “Every body imagin'd you had a Key to unlock the Cabinet of Princes,—a Clue to guide you through the most intricate Labyrinths of State,—and that the secret Springs of Ambition, Avarice and Revenge, which make such dreadful havock.” ending “Huge Fleets cover the Ocean with their spreading Sails, but not all the Wind that fills them wafts to the Female Spectator any Account to what intent equipped, where directed, or what great Feats they yet have done, or are about to do.”]

  La Spectatrice répond à l'Auteur de cette Lettre, qu'elle n'a jamais eu dessein de parler dans son Ouvrage des Nouvelles, dont il lui reproche de n'avoir fait aucune Mention. Ces Choses ne sont point du ressort d'une femme, [et] ne font rien à son but. D'ailleurs, les ressorts qui produisent tous ces grands mouvemens ne sont |406| autre Chose que les Passions des Hommes. En raisonnant fur elles on remonte à la source de tous les désordres qui arrivent dans le monde. II n'est pas si aisé de décider quelle passion dans un Ministre a produit tel désordre particulier. Souvent ce n'est qu'une bagatelle, qui ressèmble assez à ce jeu des Enfans, qui consiste à faire des Noeuds que leurs Camarades doivent ensuite dénouer. Enfin, quand il seroit facile de pénétrer dans les Mystères d'Etat, il ferait imprudent [et], peut-être, peu fur, de le faire. “II y a an ancien Proverbe qui dit, que tout ce qui est licite n'est pas expédient; auquel l'on peut ajouter celui-ci, qu'il y a plusieurs Choses nécessaires qui ne sont pas lictses. Le principal but qu'on se propose dans cet Ouvrage, c'est de s'opposer au prodigieux accroifiement du luxe; [et] de travailler à la réforme des mœurs d'un siécle, de l’aveu de tout le monde, abâtardi [et] corrompu.”

  La prémiere Partie roule en général fur l’Amour [et] le Mariage; [et] fur la Contrainte dans laquelle des Peres [et] des Meres tiennent leurs filles, tandis que d'autres leur accordent une trop grande Liberté. Nous allons en donner un Extrait assez éxact pouvoir juger de la Nature du travail de a Spectatrice.

  De toutes les passions que l’Homme a reçu de son Créateur la plus noble, dit un Poëte, la plus douce, [et] la plus agréable, c'est l'Amour. Cela est exactement vrai quand elle est dirigée |407| par la Raison; mais alors ce n'est plus cette passion telle qu'elle est décrite dans les Romans [et] les Comédies. On représente l'Amour, dans ces Ouvrages, comme le Dieu de plaisirs [et] de la joye; mais, en même tems, on lui donne toute la fureur de Mars, on lui fait fouler aux Pieds tous les devoirs de l'Amitié [et] de l'Affection naturelle; [et] c'est un motif qui sanctifie les plus grands Crimes. La Lecture de ces Livres gate l'Esprit des jeunes gens, qui s'imaginent que l'Amour est réellement tel qu'on l'y trouve dépeint. Ils forment le leur fur ce modèle: faut il être surpris, après cela, de leur voir faire tant d'extravagances? On voie souvent des filles, trop jeunes encore pour qu'on leur parle d'Ámour, ou même pour éprouver cette passion, affecter cette Langueur, ces roulemens d'Yeux, ces soupirs, [et] cent autres folies qu'elles ont lûes; [et] ne s'appliquer uniquement qu'à tâcher de faire croire qu'elles sentent toutes les peines [et] les délicatesses de l'Amour. Dans de tels sentimens, elles sont disposées à se jetter, au mépris de l'Autorité Paternelle [et] de la Raison, à la tête du prémier Fat qui s'addressera à elles. Et comme l'Amour qu'une fille conçoit dans cette circonstance est purement imaginaire, elle s'apperçoit bientôt qu'elle n'aime pas la personne dont elle croioit être charmée, [et] fait un antre Choix. C'est là, la véritable Cause de l'Inconstance dont on accuse à tort les femmes; |408| Car, quand une fois elles aiment bien, rarement elles changent. Il n'y a qu'une suite continuelle de mepris [et] de mauvais traitemens de là part de l'Objet de leur tendresse qui puisse le leur rendre moins cher. La Spectatrice conseille donc à toute fille qui veut se marier, de bien éxaminer son Cœur, pour savoir si elle a une véritable tendresse pour son Amant. Et comme elle ne nait pas tout d'un coup, il ne faut pas se marier avant de se connoitre reciproquement, ni avant qu'on soit en état d'examiner son Cœur.

  Toutes ces Réflexions sont justifiées par l'Exemple de Martesia, qui, à l'âge de quatorze Ans, écouta, contre la Volonté de son Pere, le prémier Homme qui s'addressa à elle, [et] se fit enlever. L'Amour, qu'elle prétendoit avoir pour lui, étoit purement chimérique; aussi ne dura t-il pas longtems. Elle n'eut pas plus-tôt vû le jeune Clitandre, qu'il lui parut plus aimable que son Mari. Dès lors, il n'eut pas de peine à s'en faire écouter; [et] elle oublia bien tôt avec lui tous les Principes d'honneur [et] de vertu qu'on lui avoit inspirés dès son enfance. Le degout, qu'elle marquoit pour la Maison de son Epoux [et] pour sa personne, étoit trop marqué pour ne pas l'appercevoir. Il lui en fit de tendres reproches, auxquels elle répondit de manière à lui saire soupçonner la cause de son indifférence. Quand il fut convaincu que ses soupçons n'étoient pas mal-fondés, il mit tout en |409| usage pour regagner l'Amitié de sa Femme; mais tous ses soins furent inutiles. Alors il résolut de vivre séparément avec elle, sans cependant faire d'éclat. Il s'étoit déjà écoulé quelque tems depuis qu'ils vivoient de cette maniere, lorsqu'elle devint grosse. Le soin de sa réputation lui fit chercher les moyens de la mettre à couvert; à quoi elle ne pût réüssir qu'imparfaitement. On se disoit son Aventure à l'oreille; ce qui, joint au Chagrin qu'elle eut de se voir abandonnée par Clitandre, lui fit prendre la résolution de quitter l’Angleterre pour toujours.

  Ce n'est pas toujours la faute des filles, si elles font de mauvais Mariages. La trop grande Contrainte, dans laquelle leurs Parens les tiennent, leur fait saisir la prémière occasion de sécouër un joug qui leur est à charge. La Chaleur du Climat n'est pas toujours la Cause qu'en Espagne, en Italie, [et] en Turquie, les Femmes acceptent d'abord les prémières propositions d'un homme; mais la prison où on les tient fait que, quand elles jouissent d'un moment de Liberté, elles craignent de refuser une Chose que bies tôt après il ne sera plus en leur pouvour d'accorder. En effet, une fille récluse n'est point accoutumée aux tendres discours que les Hommes tiennent d'ordinaire aux Femmes. S'il lui arrive donc de s'entendre dire quelque chose d'obligeant, elle prend d'abord au Pied de la Lettre ce qui n'étoit qu'une Politesse; [et] s'expose, ou |410| à perdre son Honneur, ou à se rendre ridicule. C'est pour cette raison que, de toutes les Filles, les plus aisées à seduire sont celles qui ont été élevées à la Campagne, où elles n'ont vû d'autre Homme que leur Pere ou leur Curé. Cette contrainte où-on les retient fait qu'elles se jettent assèz soudent entre les bras d'un Laquais ou de quelque jeune Païsan.

  Seomanthe, pour son Malheur, fut élevée par une Vieille Tante, qui ne lui permit de prendre aucun des innocens plaisirs de la jeunesse. Elle ne voyoit, pour toute Compagnie, que quelques Vieilles prudes, Amies de la Tante, qui déclamoient sans cesse contre les Amusemens des gens du Monde. Leurs Discours ne la persuadoient point; [et] elle ne voyoit jamais passer de jeunes gens de l'un [et] de l'autre sexe, un peu bien mis, qu'elle ne souhaitât d'être avec eux. Elle languissoit sur tout de faire Connoissance avec ceux d'entre les Hommes, dont la Figure [et] l’Ajustement lui piaisoient. Ses desirs furent enfin accomplis. Un de ces Hommes, qui n'ont pour tout bien que ce qu'ils ont sur leur Corps, [et] dont l'unique ressource est d'attraper quelque riche Heritiere, entreprit de se rendre Maitre de la personne [et] du bien de Seomanthe. Pour cet effet, il mit en jeu une de ces Entremetteuses, qui, sous prétexte de vendre de belles Nipes, vont de Maison en Maison, pour corrompre la vertu des Femmes [et] des Filles. Cette Créature rendit |411| une Lettre de cet Avanturier à Seomanthe, qui eut la foiblesse d’y faire réponse. Dimanche suivant, il se trouva près d'elle à l'Eglise, où sa Personne, [et] une nouvelle Lettre acheverent de la charmer. Il lui demandoit une entrevue chés la femme qui lui avoit rendu la prémière Lettre, ou ailleurs [et] elle jugeoit à propos; ou, tout au moins, une Réponse, qu'il attendroit le Lendemain matin sous ses Fenêtres. Ne pouvant pas lui accorder la prémière de ses demandes, il fallut se rabattre sur la derniere; [et] ce commerce ayant duré quelque-tems, par le Ministére de l'Entremetteuse, Seomanthese laissa persuader de sortir une Nuit de la Maison de sa Tante, pour se retirer chés le Gallant. Il n'en fut pas plutôt le Maitre, qu'il chercha à se mettre aussi en possession de son Bien. Un petit nombre de jours lui suffirent pour cela; au bout desquels il quitta l’Angleterre, laissant sa Femme dans le désespoir [et] la Misère. Sa Tante ne voulant pas la recevoir, elle fut obligé de se retirer chés des Parens dans la Dépendance desquels elle vit aujourd'hui.

  Si la Contrainte, dans laquelle on retient les jeunes filles, est dangereuse, il ne l'est pas moins de leur accorder trop de Liberté. La mode s'est introduite de les laisser aller aux Mascarades en hyver, [et] aux Ridotis en été; ou elles sont exposées à se trouver avec toutes sortes de gens, [et] à entendre des Discours qui blessent souvent |412| la pudeur. Une telle Compagnie est bien propre à corrompre les mœurs d'une jeune personne, qui, n'ayant pas encore assés de jugement pour se conduire par les Principes de la Raison, se contente de suivre l'exemple des autres. Mais ils sont souvent dangereux dans ces endroits publics, ou la plus infame prostituée, dès qu'elle a un billet, peut entrer aussi bien, que la femme la plus vertueuse. Les Hommes, qui ont un peu de Connoissance du monde [et] de ce qui se passe dans de telles Assemblées, n'aiment pas que leurs femmes les frequentent.

  La Spectatrice rapporte ici la maniere ingénieuse dont un Mari s'y prit pour dégouter sa femme des Mascarades. Elle étoit vertueuse [et] ne vouloit jamais y aller sans lui; mais elle pouvoit cesser de l'être, [et] l'Habitude, qu'elle prenoir de n'en manquer aucune, lui causoit de la dépense. Il ne vouloit paroitre ni jaloux ni Avare, [et] lui inspirer cependant du dégout pour ces Assemblées. Dans ce dessein, il pria un de ses Amis de faire un Habit de Masque parfaitement semblable à celui qu'il devoit mettre. Pendant qu'il dansoit avec sa femme, l'Ami prit adroitement sa place; [et], quand il fut tems de se retirer, elle suivit la Personne qu'elle prenoit pour son Mari: elle monta avec lui dans un Carosse, qui les conduisit à un Cabaret, où elle fut fort surprise de se trouver avec un Etranger, qui lui tenoit des Discours auxquels elle |413| n'étoit point accoutumée. Elle appelloit du monde, lorsque son Mari survint, qui lui représenta les mauvaises Conséquences qu'auroit eu cette Avanture, si elle lui étoit arrivée avec une autre Personne que celle de son Ami. Il ajouta, qu'il avoit remarqué tout ce petit Manege, [et] qu'il les avoit suivi, dans le Dessein de tirer Vangeance de l'Affront, qu'on lui faisoit; mais que, puisque son Ami ne l'avoit point connue, [et] qu'à son Attachement pour lui, il l'avoit prise pour tout autre que ce qu'elle étoit, il n'avoit aucun lieu de se plaindre de lui. Cet Artifice produisit son effet: [et] la femme, qui a ignoré que c'étoit un jeu, a renoncé pour toujours aux Mascarades.

  Il ne faut pas s'imaginer, que la ressemblance des Habits n'ait réellement jamais rien occasionné de semblable dans ces Assemblées. La Spectatrice en rapporte deux Exemples bien funestes. L'un d'une Dame, qui, ayant reconnu son Mari dans une Mascarade, le crut amoureux d'une femme avec qui il s'entretenoit. La Jalousie, qu'elle en conçut, la fit résoudre à ne point le perdre de vue, [et] à le suivre quand il sortiroit. Malheureusement pour elle, il se trouva un Masque habillé de même: le prenant pour son Mari, elle le suivit dans la Maison où il entra. Quand elle eut reconnu son erreur, elle voulut se retirer; mais, les manieres engageantes de cet Homme, l'envie de lui demander des Nouvelles de son Mari, [et] sa Jalousie, la firent |414| rester; [et] l'Amour de la Vengeance la perdit. Son Mari fut instruit de toût dès le Lendemain. Le Ton, sur lequel il lui en parla, la fit rétirer chés ses Parens; qui, dès lors, se brouillérent pour toujours avec lui. Il fallut ensuite se battre contre le Gallant de sa femme; [et] tous deux furent dangereusement blessés. Enfin, après être guéri de ses blessures, le Gallant alla en France, où sa Maitresse le suivit bien-tôt après.

L'autre Exemple est celui d'un Frere [et] d'une Sœur, qui se trouvoient dans cette Assemblée pour la premiere fois. Celle-ci, prenant une autre Personne pour son frere, le pria de vouloir la teminener au Logis. Sans lui répondre, il s'avance avec elle du côté de la porte, la fait monter en Carosse, [et] la conduit chés lui; ou, après en avoir criminellement abusé, il la renvoye, en prenant des précautions pour que sa Maison ne fut point reconnue. Cette jeune Demoiselle, qui devoit se marier avec un Gentil-homme de sa Province, conçut tant de honte du malheur qui lui étoit arrivé, qu'elle ne voulut plus le voir, [et] est allée passer ses jours dans la retraite.

  Vaux-Hall n'est pas tout à fait si dangereux que lé Bal masqué; mais, il ne laisse pas de l'être beaucoup. La Musique, les délicieux Bosquets, les Endroits écartés, [et] la facilité qu'un Amant a d'entretenir sa Maitresse, sont de dangereux ennemis de l’Honneur. Un certain Homme, dont la Connoissance n'est pas fort honorable |415| pour les jeunes Dames, s'est vanté plusieurs fois, que; Vaux-Hall étoit le Temple de Flora, dont, depuis long-tems, il avoit été établi Grand-Prêtre. Il est assez à craindre, que la Chose ne soit que trop vraye.
  L'on trouve, à la suite de ces Réflexions, une petite Historiette, dans la quelle ce Prétendu Grand-Prétre joue un assez vilain Rolle. Il avoit cherché à séduire une jeune Fille, pour la faire servir aux plaisirs d'un Seigneur. Déjà la Mere étoit gagnée, [et] elle promettoit de rendre bon compte de sa fille: déjà il en avoit fait fête à ce Seigneur, au nom du quel il agissoit, lorsque la jeune Fille, préférant son honneur à tout autre chose, quitta la Maison de sa Mere, [et] se retira chez un Curé pour en être protégée. Celui-ci, ne voyant guéres de jour à pouvoir la garder chez lui contre la Volonté de sa Mere, lui proposa de l'épouser; ce qu'elle accepta avec joye.

  Telle est, en gros, la Nature de l'Ouvrage que nous annonçons. Il n'est pas aisé d'en donner une Idée bien juste dans un Extrait. Il faudroit pouvoir en représenter la beauté du stile, la vivacité des pensées, la justesse des raisonnemens, [et] la finesse des réfléxions: mais, pour cela, il seroit nécessaire de s'arréter presque sur tout; [et] ce ne seroit plus un Extrait, mais une Traduction. Il faut espérer, que quelqu'un en donnera bien-tôt une, qui mettra le Public en état de juger du mérite de |416| la Spectatrice*. Son Ouvrage semble devenir de jour en jour plus parfaits [et] l'on s'apperçoit, que, bien loin de tomber , comme la plûpart des Ecrivains périodiques, les dernieres parties ont quelque supériorité sur les précédentes.

*Cet Ouvrage s’imprime à la Haye, chez P. De Hondt.

* * * * *

ARTICLE X.

The Female Spectator. London, printed and published by T. Gardner, at Cowley's Head, opposite St. Clement’s Churcb, in the Strand.

C'est-à-dire,

La Spectatrice: à Londres, chez T. Gardner. [et]c. C'est un in 8vo, dont il paroit tous les Mois une Brochure de 60 à 80 pagg. [et] dont la prémiere parut sur le milieu d'Avril 1744.

The author of this work has hazarded much by appearing under a title [The Female Spectator], which awakens at first the idea of an excellent book [The Spectator], from which it was feared that comparison would be disadvantageous to her. To support the character of the Female Spectator, which the sister is called, and not to dishonour the Spectator, it is necessary to have unusual talents. Without this, it is to be feared, that a writer, who has acquired so just a title, so much reputation, does not renounce the parentage, and does not cause this pretended sister to pass for a supposed child, who never was her family. The ease with which these reflections present themselves to the spirit does not permit us to doubt that the Female Spectator has made them; And that she did not perceive how perilous her enterprise was. But if this is so, it must be filled with a noble confidence, that it has been able to sustain such a great name, and to make a work, if not equal to that of its brother, at least approaching it, in the same proportion between the talents and the capacity of a man whose spirit is cultivated by the study, and those of a woman who has not had the same advantage. If we consider the Spectator from this point of view, we venture to assure her that she has not been deceived in the advantageous idea which she conceived of herself and of her forces. Her book in general is not only worthy of the sister of the Spectator, but also contains a very large number of pieces, which his brother would be glad to have composed, and which would do him no less honour than that which we already have of his. One would even be tempted to believe that she is in possession of the papers of the collection, and that she does nothing but put into execution, in her manner, the materials which the Spectator had amassed for the continuation of his work. What is certain is that the sister draws from the same source that the brother has drawn from. The object of the latter has been to correct both of its faults; but this one has a great deal to do with the fair-sex. For this purpose they both make use of what good sense, spirit, and the use of the world can furnish good and agreeable; with this difference that one notices more knowledge in the writings of the brother, and that the sister seems to be better acquainted with all the little stories which form what is called Chronique Scandaleuse. She recounts them in a very agreeable manner, without naming the originals, and accompanies them with reflections equally judicious and delicate. But let us see how the Female Spectator speaks of her person, of her purpose, of the means of accomplishing it, and of the assistance she will have in reaching it.

[397–403, quote from FS Book 1 (1744), pp.2–7: “As a Proof of my Sincerity, I shall, in the first place, assure him, that for my own Part I never was a Beauty, and am now very far from being young” to “Whoever, therefore, shall pretend to fix on any particular Person the Blame of Actions they may happen to find recorded here, or make what they call a Key to these Lucubrations, must expect to see themselves treated in the next Publication with all the Severity so unfair a Proceeding merits.”]

In spite of this threat and all the other precautions of the Female Spectator to prevent the discovery of the originals she has in view, it must not be doubted that those of her readers, who are a little acquainted with what is happening in England, and especially in London, did not recognize many. Besides, it seems to us that it ought not to trouble itself; because there will be only those who already know the stories that she tells, who will know the masks. It is up to them to have the discretion not to name them. As for the others, who wish to deviate, it is probable that they will give to the left more often than they will meet fairly. The reason is quite natural. The engravings, which accompany the narrative of the Female Spectator, will readily displease the readers, and will be cause to be found with much difficulty of the persons to whom all the traits agree, by which it characterizes the actors whom it introduces on the scene. This difficulty, and the fear of giving falsehood, ought to prevent any reasonable person from engaging in conjectures, calculated to blacken the reputation of his neighbour in his spirit, and in those of whom it communicates them.

In order to complete the exposition which we have proposed to make of the plan and purpose of the Female Spectator, it will not be useless to relate here the manner in which she explains the article of the News which her spies were to send her of foreign countries. That which gave her the right to do so, was a letter which she received several months after her work began to appear. The author complains that, notwithstanding her promises, she had not yet regaled the public with any political news.

[404–5, quote from FS, Book 8 (1744), pp.119–20; starting “Every body imagin'd you had a Key to unlock the Cabinet of Princes,—a Clue to guide you through the most intricate Labyrinths of State,—and that the secret Springs of Ambition, Avarice and Revenge, which make such dreadful havock.” ending “Huge Fleets cover the Ocean with their spreading Sails, but not all the Wind that fills them wafts to the Female Spectator any Account to what intent equipped, where directed, or what great Feats they yet have done, or are about to do.”]

The Female Spectator replies to the author of this letter, which she never intended to speak in her work of the news, of which he reproaches her for not having given any mention. These things are not within the power of a woman, and do nothing to her end. Besides, the springs which produce all these great movements are nothing else than the passions of men. By reasoning on them they trace back to the source of all the disorders which occur in the world. It is not so easy to decide which passion in a Minister has produced such particular disorder. Often it is only a trifle, which resembles in this game of the children, which consists in making knots which their comrades must then untie. Finally, when it would be easy to penetrate into the mysteries of state, it would be imprudent and, perhaps, little to do so. “There is an ancient Proverb which says, that ‘whatever is lawful is not expedient’; to which it may be added, that ‘That there are several necessary things that are not licensed’. The principal object which is proposed in this work is to oppose the prodigious increase of luxury; and to work to reform the manners of a century, by the confession of the whole world, abashed and corrupted.”

The first part is generally about Love and Marriage; And on the Constraint in which the fathers and mothers hold their daughters, while others grant them too great a liberty. We will give an excerpt sufficiently able to judge of the nature of the work of the Female Spectator.

Of all the passions which man has received from his most noble Creator, says a Poet, the sweetest and most agreeable is love. This is exactly true when it is directed by reason; but then it is no longer this passion as it is described in novels and comedies. Love is represented in these works as the God of pleasures and joy; but at the same time he is given all the fury of Mars, and he is made to tread on the feet all the duties of friendship and natural affection; and it is a motive that sanctifies the greatest crimes. The reading of these books bears the spirit of the young men, who imagine that love is really as it is depicted. They form theirs on this model: must we be surprised, after that, to see them do so many extravagances? We often see daughters, too young to be spoken of Amour, or even to experience this passion, to affect this languor, these eloquence, those sighs, and a hundred other follies they have had; And apply themselves only to trying to make them believe that they feel all the pains and delicacies of love. In such sentiments, they are disposed to throw themselves, in defiance of paternal authority and reason, at the head of the first person who will address themselves to them. And as the love which a girl conceives in this circumstance is purely imaginary, she soon perceives that she does not love the person of whom she thought she was charmed, and makes another choice. This is the true cause of inconstancy, of which women are wrongly accused; for, when once they love well, rarely they change. There is but a continual succession of contempt and bad treatment on the part of the object of their tenderness which can make it less dear to them. The Female Spectator therefore advises every girl who wishes to marry, to examine her Heart thoroughly, in order to know whether she has a true tenderness for her lover. And as she is not born all at once, one must not marry until one knows one another, nor before one is able to examine his Heart.

All these reflections are justified by the example of Martesia, who, at the age of fourteen years, listened to the first man, who opposed her Father's will, and took her away. Love, which she pretended to have for him, was purely chimerical; so it did not last long. She had no sooner seen the young Clitandre, than he appeared to her more amiable than her husband. From that moment he had no difficulty in making himself heard; and she soon forgot with her all the principles of honour and virtue which had inspired her from her childhood. The disgust, which she had for the house of her bridegroom and for his person, was too marked for him not to perceive it. He reproached her with tender reproaches, to which she replied so as to suspect the cause of her indifference. When he was convinced that his suspicions were not unfounded, he made every effort to regain the friendship of his wife; but all his care was useless. Then he resolved to live separately with her, but without making any splendour. It had already been some time since they had lived in this way, when she became fat. The care of his reputation made him seek the means of sheltering him; to which it could only imperfectly reap. His adventure was said in his ear; which, combined with the sorrow she felt at seeing herself abandoned by Clitandre, made her resolve to leave England for ever.

It is not always the fault of girls, if they make bad marriages. The too great constrainment, in which their parents hold them, makes them seize the first opportunity of securing a yoke which is a burden to them. The heat of climate is not always the cause in Spain, Italy, and Turkey, Women accept first the first propositions of a man; but the prison in which they are kept does, that when they enjoy a moment of liberty, they fear to refuse a thing which soon afterwards it will no longer be in their power to grant. Indeed, a secluded girl is not accustomed to the tender discourse, which men usually take from women. If, therefore, he happens to be told something obliging, she takes at first to the foot of the letter what was only a politeness; and exposes himself, or loses his honour, or makes himself ridiculous. It is for this reason that, of all the Daughters, the easiest to seduce are those who have been brought up in the country, where they have had no other man but their father or their priest. This constraint, in which they are kept, causes them to throw themselves together in the arms of a Laquais or some young Paisan.

Seomanthus, for her misfortune, was brought up by an old aunt, who did not allow her to take any of the innocent pleasures of youth. She saw only a few old prudes, friends of the aunt, who constantly declaimed against the amusements of the people of the world. Their discourses did not persuade her; and she never saw passing youth of either sex, a little well dressed, that she did not wish to be with them. She languished on all things to make acquaintance with those of the men, of whom the figure and the adjustment inspired her. Her desires were finally fulfilled. One of these men, who have for all good what they have about their bodies, and whose sole resource is to catch some wealthy heiress, undertook to make himself master of the person and goods of Seomanthus. For this purpose he brought into play one of these panders, who, under pretence of selling beautiful clothes, went from house to house to corrupt the virtue of women and girls. This creature returned a letter from this advocate to Seomanthus, who had the weakness to reply to it. On the following Sunday he found himself beside her at the Church, where his person and a new letter finished charming her. He asked her for an interview with the woman who had given her the first letter, or elsewhere, and she thought fit; or at least a reply, that he would wait the next morning under his windows. Not being able to grant him the first of his demands, it was necessary to fall back on the last; and this trade having lasted some time by the ministry of the procuress, Seomanthus persuaded him to go out a night from his aunt's house, to retire to the gallant. He was no sooner the master, than he sought to put himself in possession of his goods. A few days sufficed for it; at the end of which he left England, leaving his woman in despair and misery. Since her aunt did not wish to receive her, she was obliged to retire from the parents in the dependence of which she now lives.

If the constraint, in which young girls are retained, is dangerous, it is none the less to grant them too much liberty. Fashion has been introduced to let them go to the masquerades in winter, and to the ridottos in summer; or they are exposed to be with all sorts of people, and to hear discourses which often hurt modesty. Such a company is well fitted to corrupt the manners of a young person, who, having not yet asserted judgment to conduct herself by the principles of reason, content herself with following the example of others. But it is often dangerous in these public places, for the most infamous prostitute, as soon as she has a ticket, can enter as well as the most virtuous woman. Men, who have a little knowledge of the world and what happens in such assemblies, do not like their wives frequenting them.

The Female Spectator reports here the ingenious manner in which a husband took to disgust his wife with masquerades. She was virtuous, and would never go without him; but she could cease to be so, and habit, which she took to miss none of them, caused her an expense. He did not wish to appear jealous or miserly, and yet inspire him with disgust for these assemblies. With this intention, he begged one of his friends to make a cloth mask perfectly similar to that which he was to wear. While he was dancing with his wife, the friend took his place adroitly; and when it was time to retire, she followed the person she took for her husband. She went with him to a carriage, which led them to a Cabaret, where she was very surprised to find herself with a foreigner, who kept up speeches to which she was not accustomed. She called the world when her husband came, who represented to her the evil consequences that this adventure would have had if it had happened to her with another person than that of his friend. He added, that he had noticed all this little carousel, and that he had followed them, with the design to draw the attention of the affront which was done to him; but that his friend had not known him, and that, but for his attachment for him, he had taken her for whatever she was, he had no cause to complain of him. This artifice produced its effect; and the woman, who had forgotten that it was a game, renounced for ever the masquerades.

It must not be imagined, that the resemblance of the habits has never really occasioned anything like this in these assemblies. The Female Spectator reports two very fatal examples. One of a lady, who, having recognized her husband in a masquerade, thought him in love with a woman with whom he was conversing. Jealousy, as she conceived it, made her resolve not to lose sight of him, and to follow him when he went out. Unfortunately for her, there was a masquerader dressed in the same way: taking him for her husband, she followed him into the house where he entered. When she had recognized her error, she wished to retire; but the man's engaging manners, the desire to ask her for news of her husband, and her jealousy, made her stay; and the love of vengeance lost her. Her husband was informed of everything on the morrow. The tone with which he spoke to her, caused her to withdraw to her parents; who, from that moment, quarreled with him forever. It was then necessary to fight against his wife's gallant; and both were dangerously wounded. At length, after being cured of his wounds, the gallant went to France, where his Mistress followed him soon after.

The other example is that of a Brother and a Sister, who were in this assembly for the first time. She, taking another person for her brother, begged him to bring her to the house. Without answering her, he advances with her towards the door, makes her go up to coach, and leads her to him; or, after having criminally abused her, he dismissed her, taking precautions so that his house was not recognized. This young lady, who was to marry a gentleman of her own province, was so ashamed of the misfortune which had happened to her, that she would no longer see him, and went to spend her days in retirement.

Vaux-Hall is not quite so dangerous as a masked ball; but, not by much. Music, delicious groves, remote places, and the ease that a lover has to maintain his mistress, are dangerous enemies of honour. A certain man, whose knowledge is not very honourable to young ladies, has boasted several times that, Vaux-Hall was the Temple of Flora, of which he had long been the High Priest. It is to be feared, that the Thing is only too true.

One finds, in these reflections, and little histories, that this pretended grand-priest plays a rather ugly role. He had sought to seduce a young girl, to make her serve the pleasures of a Lord. The mother was already gained, and she promised to give due consideration to her daughter. He had already given a feast to this Lord, in whose name he was acting, when the young girl, preferring her honour to anything else, left the house of her mother, and retired to a parish priest to be protected. The latter, seeing a fight to be able to keep her at home against his mother's will, proposed to her to marry him; which she joyfully accepted.

Such, by and large, is the nature of the work which we announce. It is not easy to give a right idea just in an excerpt. It would be necessary to be able to represent the beauty of the style, the vivacity of thoughts, the correctness of reasoning, and the refinement of reflexions; but for this it would be necessary to arrest almost everything; and it would no longer be an extract, but a translation. It is to be hoped that some one will soon give one, which will enable the public to judge of the merit of the Female Spectator. His work seems to become more perfect day by day, and we perceive that, far from falling, like most of the periodical writers, the last parts have some superiority over the preceding ones.

* This work is printed at the Hague, by P. De Hondt.

[UPDATED 18 March 2017]