The Female Quixote: “would certainly make a Convert of Lady Bella”

Having now said goodbye to Arabella, I’m going to jot down some final thoughts (the blog post will be short as I’m ill and miserable). 

My main two criticisms of the novel remain true till the end. The Female Quixote is a one-trick pony—Charlotte Lennox may be funny at first but the joke soon gets stale. When Fielding was taking the piss out of Richardson’s Pamela, he knew his simple premise was not enough to sustain a full-length novel, so Shamela is just a novella or a long short story. Joseph Andrews, the full-length novel that started off as a parody of Pamela, soon went in another direction and developed into something else. Arabella’s misreading of everything in life as resembling 17th century French romances is not enough material for 400 pages, but Charlotte Lennox also adds nothing for variation or depth—even when she brings her protagonist to Bath and then to London, it’s the same joke over and over and over again.

The other problem is, as I said, the characterisation of Arabella. Lennox tells us now and again that Arabella is an accomplished lady, that she has great wit and delicacy, that she has a noble mind and good reasoning as long as the subject of conversation is neither love nor romances, but where is it? Lennox doesn’t show it. There may be a remark here and there where Arabella moralises about something, such as about raillery, but she would then come across as moralistic.

My new complaint, now that I’ve read the whole novel, is that the resolution is unsatisfying. The hurried, abrupt, contrived ending feels like an interference from outside—either Samuel Johnson or Samuel Richardson—especially when the introduction of the Countess seemed to be potentially important (“Mr. Glanville at his Return to the Dining-Room, finding Arabella retired, told his Father in a Rapture of Joy, that the charming Countess would certainly make a Convert of Lady Bella”) but that plotline got suddenly cut off. What happened? 

As for characterisation in general, it’s generally weak. I said that in Evelina, every character was defined by a single trait, but at least Frances Burney gave each one a distinct voice—her characters may not be complex but they feel alive—I can’t say the same about Charlotte Lennox’s characters. What is Mr Glanville’s trait, for instance? Apart from being in love with Arabella (for some reason) and continually getting second-hand embarrassment because of her ridiculous behaviour? Arabella is defined by a single trait; most other characters don’t even have a personality trait. The best character in The Female Quixote, I would say, is not Arabella but Miss Glanville, sister of the poor Mr Glanville. She is frivolous, she is envious and petty, she is not extraordinary; but she loves and hates, she is human, she is flesh and blood.

Great novels such as Anna Karenina, Don Quixote, or Moby Dick should be read and reread multiple times throughout one’s life. Some novels like Evelina or Joseph Andrews may not be so great and complex to require multiple readings, but they’re worth reading once. I’m not sure I can say The Female Quixote, unless you have some specialist interest, is worth reading once.