base Monopoly,” but not from an intuitive knowledge of the passions, in which respect the sex were, and are, thought the superiors of insensible man.[26] Consequently her chief excellence in the opinion of her readers lay in that power to “command the throbbing Breast and watry Eye” previously recognized by the Volunteer Laureate and her other admirers.  She could tell a story in clear and lively, if not always correct and elegant English, and she could describe the ecstasies and agonies of passion in a way that seemed natural and convincing to an audience nurtured on French romans a longue haleine and heroic plays.  Unworthy as they may seem when placed beside the subsequent triumphs of the novel, her short romances nevertheless kept alive the spirit of idealistic fiction and stimulated an interest in the emotions during an age when even poetry had become the handmaid of reason.

But although Eliza had few rivals as an “arbitress of the passions,” she did not enjoy an equal success as the “proxy of vindictive heaven.”  When she attempted to apply the caustic of satire instead of the mild balsam of moral tales, she speedily made herself enemies.  From the very first indeed she had been persecuted by those who had an inveterate habit of detecting particular persons aimed at in the characters of her fictions,[27] and even without their aspersions her path was sufficiently hard.

“It would be impossible to recount the numerous Difficulties a Woman has to struggle through in her Approach to Fame:  If her Writings are considerable enough to make any Figure in the World, Envy pursues her with unweary’d Diligence; and if, on the contrary, she only writes what is forgot, as soon as read, Contempt is all the Reward, her Wish to please, excites; and the cold Breath of Scorn chills the little Genius she has, and which, perhaps, cherished by Encouragement, might, in Time, grow to a Praise-worthy Height."[28]

Unfortunately the cold breath of scorn, though it may have stunted her genius, could not prevent it from bearing unseasonable fruit.  Her contributions to the Duncan Campbell literature, “A Spy upon the Conjurer” (1724) and “The Dumb Projector” (1725), in which the romancer added a breath of intrigue to the atmosphere of mystery surrounding the wizard, opened the way for more notorious appeals to the popular taste for personal scandal.  In the once well known “Memoirs of a Certain Island adjacent to the Kingdom of Utopia” (1725-6) and the no less infamous “Secret History of the Present Intrigues of the Court of Carimania” (1727) Mrs. Haywood found a fit repertory for daringly licentious gossip of the sort made fashionable reading by Mrs. Manley’s “Atalantis.”  But though the romans a clef of Mrs. Haywood, like the juvenile compositions of Mr. Stepney, might well have “made grey authors blush,” her chief claim to celebrity undoubtedly depends upon her inclusion in the immortal ranks of Grubstreet.  Her scandal