Joseph Andrews: “one Gentleman had thought proper to produce some Poetry upon me”

(Drawing of Parson Adams, by Thomas Rowlandson) 

1/ In an earlier blog post, I wrote that Joseph Andrews, like Vanity Fair over a century later, wasn’t rich in metaphor—Fielding is no Dickens. 

“No sooner had Joseph grasped his Cudgel in his Hands than Lightning darted from his Eyes; and the heroick Youth, swift of Foot, ran with the utmost speed to his Friend’s Assistance. He overtook him just as Rockwood had laid hold of the Skirt of his Cassock, which, being torn, hung to the ground. Reader, we would make a Simile on this occasion, but for two Reasons: the first is, it would interrupt the Description, which should be rapid in this Part; but that doth not weigh much, many Precedents occurring for such an Interruption: the second and much the greater Reason is, that we could find no Simile adequate to our Purpose: for indeed, what Instance could we bring to set before our Reader’s Eyes at once the Idea of Friendship, Courage, Youth, Beauty, Strength, and Swiftness? all which blazed in the Person of Joseph Andrews. Let those, therefore, that describe Lions and Tigers, and Heroes fiercer than both, raise their Poems or Plays with the Simile of Joseph Andrews, who is himself above the reach of any Simile.” (Vol.3, ch.6) 

Good, that. A simile would interrupt the description, but the intrusive narration does not? One can’t help liking Fielding. He has a charming authorial persona. 

“Thus far the Muse hath with her usual Dignity related this prodigious Battle, a Battle we apprehend never equalled by any Poet, Romance or Life-writer whatever, and, having brought it to a Conclusion, she ceased; we shall therefore proceed in our ordinary Style with the Continuation of this History.” 

This is a good scene, in which Parson Adams is chased by hounds and by someone who is “a great Hunter of Men” (for sport, not for meat). The following scene, at the Squire’s, is amusing—the Squire’s friends all play pranks on him, turning him into the butt of their jokes, “which the inoffensive Disposition of his own Heart made him slow in discovering”—it is clearly modelled after one scene in Don Quixote. There’s also a bit where Parson Adams, like Don Quixote, makes a fool of himself by dancing, “to the infinite Joy of the Beholders, who declared he was the best Dancer in the Universe.” 

(The quote in the headline comes from the same scene). 

One of the central differences between Parson Adams and Don Quixote is that we know Fielding’s character is unaware at first, because of his naïveté, then he realises and feels the insult, whereas with Cervantes, things are uncertain—is Don Quixote truly mad, or does he play mad? Is he a victim of cruel pranks, or does he know it but play along? Does he genuinely think he’s a knight, or does he know he’s not but choose to be one anyway? Does he live in delusion, seeing everything through a distorted lens, or does he fight against reality and against his own reason, wanting to mould his own fate? 

We don’t have such uncertainties about Parson Adams. We may have different opinions about him, but I don’t think he invites or allows for multiple interpretations. That is not to denigrate Fielding’s achievement. There are some characters so rich, so elusive, so full of meaning—like Don Quixote and Hamlet (shall I also say Moby Dick?)—that critics and readers ponder over them and argue about interpretation for centuries. That’s not the case for most great characters—even Tolstoy’s greatest characters such as Pierre, Andrei, Natasha, Anna, Levin… don’t invite contradictory interpretations—but they’re still great, in a different way. Parson Adams is a brilliant creation. Isn’t it difficult to create a kind, morally good character? To make them not only believable and rounded but also lovable? Think of all the morally good characters who feel too flat, too unrealistic, too insufferable, too priggish, etc. and you’ll realise how brilliant Parson Adams is. 

2/ After Parson Adams, I think the most delightful characters in Joseph Andrews are Lady Booby and her upper servant Mrs Slipslop, both of whom are older women who are horny for the youthful and handsome Joseph. 

As Joseph Andrews is a picaresque novel, it is episodic and the characters come and go. Some minor characters are very amusing—such as parson-farmer Trulliber, with the farcical scene in the pigsty, or Betty the kind chambermaid who gets fired for being horny—but Fielding generally moves quickly from them, brings the travellers to a different location, and introduces a new set of characters. Lady Booby and Mrs Slipslop have a more vivid existence because we stay with them for a while at the beginning of the novel, before Lady Booby kicks Joseph out of the house for rejecting her; we come across Mrs Slipslop again later during Joseph’s travel; and in the last volume, the travellers return to Booby Hall and we again meet them. 

Fielding depicts very well Lady Booby, who “loved, hated, pitied, scorned, admired, despised the same Person by Fits, which changed in a very short Interval”. She is very much like the lady in The Dog in the Manger by Lope de Vega. 

Mrs Slipslop is also very well-delineated—the kind of servant who looks down on other servants and always acts as though educated, not realising that she regularly uses the wrong word. Fielding gives her malapropism and a sexual appetite (“she was arrived at an Age when she thought she might indulge herself in any Liberties with a Man, without the Danger of bringing a third Person into the World to betray them”), thus giving the character more life. 

These two characters are delightful on their own—put together, they’re hilarious. 

 

3/ Earlier, Fielding wrote that he didn’t pick a simile because “it would interrupt the Description”. Let’s now look at another fighting scene, in which Joseph comes to save his damsel in distress: 

“… He no sooner came within Sight, and perceived her struggling with a Man, than, like a Cannon-ball, or like Lightning, or anything that is swifter, if anything be, he ran towards her…” (Vol.4, ch.7) 

What would Flaubert say? 

But this works—Fielding gets away with it because he is funny. 

In the end, there’s still not much to say about Joseph and Fanny: Fanny spends most of her time getting chased by lustful men and Joseph spends most of his time getting chased by horny women, and defending Fanny. “[For] all my Pleasure is centred in Fanny”, he says. 

Don Quixote and Joseph Andrews are both episodic, which is the nature of the form. Don Quixote holds our interest with the friendship between Don Quixote and Sancho Panza; in addition, Part 1 is held together by Don Quixote’s promise to Sancho about an ínsula; Part 2 is held together by Don Quixote’s goal to disenchant Dulcinea, not to mention the other characters’ knowledge of Part 1 and Don Quixote’s awareness of Avellaneda’s book.

Fielding’s picaresque novel doesn’t have anything to hold it together as such. One may argue that it’s the love story between Joseph and Fanny and all the obstacles thrown their way, but I think everyone would agree that they both are flat characters who are neither interesting by themselves nor interesting together. 

And yet, Fielding does get me to care—he gets me to want them happily married—possibly because Lady Booby is so unreasonable but so powerful, and because Parson Adams risks his livelihood to do the right thing and defend them. 

4/ The Rosinante of Parson Adams, here unnamed, has a funny moment: 

“Mr Adams, greatly exulting on this Occasion (for such Ceremonies were Matters of no small moment with him), accidentally gave Spurs to his Horse, which the generous beast disdaining—for he was of high Mettle, and had been used to more expert Riders than the Gentleman who at present bestrode him, for whose Horsemanship he had perhaps some Contempt—immediately ran away full speed, and played so many antic Tricks that he tumbled the Parson from his Back; which Joseph perceiving, came to his Relief.

[…] 

The Horse having freed himself from his unworthy Rider, as he probably thought him, proceeded to make the best of his way…” (Vol.4, ch.16) 

5/ The Penguin English library edition of Joseph Andrews includes, at the end, an essay by Mark Spilka about the comic resolution of the novel. 

He makes a good point that the bedroom scenes at Booby Hall “neither increase nor heighten the dramatic intensity of the incest plot; rather, they lessen its seriousness”. The next day, the characters are all merry, even Joseph and Fanny and more cheerful; “it becomes obvious that some sort of emotional purgation has occurred and that the resolution of the main plot will be anticlimactic.” 

I did have a blast with those scenes. 

Spilka writes: 

“… if passions never stop working, they are sometimes resolved, and that it is the business of a good comic writer to resolve them. In the night adventures at Booby Hall, Fielding has done just that; with the aid of condensed, violent action, he has stood his book on its head, shaken out of all the themes and passions, and resolved them through warmhearted laughter.” 

I have now finished reading Joseph Andrews.