complicated difficulties.[4] Much
reading in books of this sort filled Mrs. Haywood's mind with images of
exalted virtue and tremendous vice, and like a Female Quixote, she saw
and reported the life about her in terms borrowed from the romances. So,
too, Mrs. Manley had written her autobiography in the character of
Rivella.

This romantic turn of mind was not easily laid aside, but the women
writers made some progress toward a more direct and natural
representation of the passions. The advance was due partly, no doubt, to
a perception of the heroic absurdities of French fiction, but also to
the study of Italian _novelle_ and the "Exemplary Novels" of Cervantes.
But even when imitating the compression of these short tales Mrs.
Haywood did not always succeed in freeing herself from the "amour trop
delicat" of the romantic conventions. In two short "novels" appended to
"Cleomelia: or, the Generous Mistress" (1727) the robust animalism of
the Italian tales comes in sharp contrast with the _delicatesse_ of the
French tradition. "The Lucky Rape: or, Fate the best Disposer"
illustrates the spirit of the _novelle_.

Emilia, rusticated to Andalusia to escape falling in love, gives her
heart to Berinthus, whom she meets at a masquerade. On her way to a
second entertainment to meet her lover, her terror of a drunken cavalier
induces her to accept the protection of the amorous Alonzo and paves the
way for her ruin. Berinthus turns out to be her brother Henriquez.
Alonzo, his friend, marries the lady as soon as her identity is
discovered, and all parties are perfectly content.

Though the scene of "The Capricious Lover: or, No Trifling with a Woman"
is likewise laid in Spain, the atmosphere of the story is far different.

Montano, doubtful of Calista's affection for him, feigns to break with
her, and she, though really loving him, returns an indifferent answer
and marries Gaspero out of pique. The distracted lover thereupon falls
upon his sword in the presence of the newly wedded couple, and the
bride, touched by the spectacle of her lover's devotion, languishes and
dies in a few months.

There is little naturalness in the extravagant passion of the second
story, but until sensationalism cloyed the public palate, realism was an
unnecessary labor. By placing the events in some romantic country like
Spain, Portugal, Italy, or even France, any narrative of excessive love
could be made to pass current. The Latin countries were vagu