Eliza Haywood's Frederick, Duke of Brunswick-Lunenburgh

Prince Frederick, heir apparent to the English crown, landed in England on 7 December 1728 from Hanover. Three months later, on Tuesday, 4 March 1729, Eliza Haywood's hastily written tragedy, Frederick, Duke of Brunswick-Lunenburgh, dedicated to the prince, opened. It closed, after three performances, on 8 March.

In her preface to the printed edition of the play, Haywood complains about its "indifferent Reception" and then considers (some would say rationalizes) possibilities for its failure. ¹ Mostly, she is angry that the "ROYAL FAMILY had not vouchsafed to honour it with their Presence," leading people to believe it was "built . . . upon a fabulous Foundation" or that she "had drawn so ill a Picture of the Hero" that they would not attend. She also speculates that some of her enemies "industriously spread Abroad" the rumor that it was a poor play.

Most would agree that the tragedy was bad. John Genest calls it "an indifferent Tragedy" and comments that "the love scenes are dull." ² George Whicher says that it "contains almost nothing . . . but rant" and "fully deserved the deep damnation of its taking off." ³ Jacqueline Pearson is troubled by its "deeply contradictory" portrayal of the title character. ⁴ Its treatment of the hero is problematic--hardly complimentary to the prince--so that one must wonder if Haywood was serious in her bid for royal patronage. And why was she so angry that the Royal family did not attend?

Haywood's plays had been "indifferently" received previously. In 1723, her only other original play, A Wife to Be Lett, ran only three nights, but she uttered no complaint. Apparently she felt some emotional attachment to her tragedy. Her preface to it is bitter, even paranoid in tone. Haywood claims that "it was chiefly owing to [her] little Interest with any Person proper to make an Application in [her] Behalf" to the Royal family that denied her their appearance at her première. She also implies that her moral principles prohibited her from soliciting the "Interest" (or bribing) any person close to the Royal ear.

Haywood's artistic alienation from the court parallels, on a very diminished level, Frederick, Prince of Wales's personal plight. Dubbed "Poor Fred" by the English people, Frederick had been abandoned by George and Caroline in Hanover when he was seven; he had suffered his parents' attempt to exclude him from the English throne in favor of his younger brother; he was not summoned to London until he was twenty-two (and then it was an unceremonious, backstairs arrival); he was hated by both his parents and kept financially dependent upon them his whole life. And the one "Person" who might bridge the gap between him and the king--Sir Robert Walpole--was a friend to neither the arts nor the prince. ⁵

After she has listed her political conspiracy theories, it may seem odd for Haywood to speculate that "the Diction" may have contributed to the play's failure. She hopes that "the candid Reader will forgive the Want of those Embellishments of Poetry, which the little Improvements [her] Sex receives from Education, allow'd [her] not the Power to adorn it with." Her feminine claim to disempowerment by those who deny women an adequate education works to tie together her sexual political and party political concerns. Like Aphra Behn and Mary Delarivier Manley before her, Haywood draws attention to her weaknesses as a mere woman to deflect attention from her political agenda. Her last suggestion for the failure of her play, apparently shouldering some personal responsibility by pointing out her own lack of art, is offered, I believe, facetiously. Readers of her preface would know that "Diction"--eloquence and rhetoric--was Walpole's primary power and one that he employed to deceive the British people. Haywood insinuates, through her feminine cry, that her poetry wants "those Embellishments," that her play is straightforward, honest...