Her book, which from its heroine is also called _Arabella_, is clever and not unamusing, though it errs (in accordance with the moral-critical principles of the time) by not merely satirising the "heroic" romances of the Gomberville-La Calprenede-Scudery type, but solemnly discussing them.

Arabella, the romance-bitten daughter of a marquis, is, for all her delusion, or because of it, rather a charming creature.

Her lover Glanville, his Richardsonian sister, and the inevitable bad Baronet (he can hardly be called wicked, especially for a Baronet) are more commonplace: and the thing would have been better as a rather long _nouvelle_ than as a far from short novel.

It alternately comes quite close to its original (as in the intended burning of Arabella's books) and goes entirely away from it, and neither as an imitation nor independently is it as good as Graves's _Spiritual Quixote_: but it is very far from contemptible.
Yet though the aptitude of women for novel-writing was thus early exemplified, it is not to be supposed that the majority of persons who felt the new influences were of that sex.

By far the larger number of those who crowded to follow the Four were, like them, men.
That not exactly credit to the Tory party, Dr.John Shebbeare, has had his demerits in other ways excused to some extent on the score of _Lydia_--whose surname, by the way, was "Fairchild," not unknown in later days of fiction.