Criminals: They aren't just for breakfast anymore

Reading the Old Bailey online was a rather interesting and educational experience. For those readers who have not perused this archive, either go to here for a description of some obscure crimes (for instance, did you know that cursing the king was illegal?) or here for the front page.

Another place to find gloriously delicious tales of criminals (especially fine if you do not mind the odd sensationalist lean) would be at The Newgate section of www.exclassics.com. Most noteable for this reader was William Cady , a man exaggerated in his hateful likeability, rivalled only by the wonderful Richard III. Reading him brings to mind the question, "why do we love those despicable characters who are meant to bring our hatred?" As an avid horror movie enthusiast, I am constantly loving the boogeyman, the serial killer, and all different forms of creatures, slithering disgusting beasts, that I should, according to sensibility, be scorning. Perhaps it is, as a critic of children's literature speaks, the childish, innocent part of us calls out for vengeance, for justice without mercy, while the wicked, adult part of us becomes more satisfied with mercy... so perhaps the side of us that cheers as the man with spikes through his face (I am thinking specifically of Clive Barker style horror classics such as Hellraiser ).

For information on the critic I above quoted, see J. R. R. Tolkien's essay "On Fairy Stories" from Monster and the Critics.

At any rate, criminals are a delightfully entertaining read, if not a morbid fascination. The plethora of crime "shows" on the television attests to our morbidity.

We are all sick sick people.

I am going to go play XIII now. God bless rocket-launchers.

Eliza Hayword at the Tea-Table

Reading Fantomina and The Tea-Table (Eliza Hayword) brings a rather immediate emotional sensation. One either likes the characters, or despizes them, and this is most true of the main character in Fantomina. The most jarring part of Fantomina was the depravity of the characters. Though the female character is adventurously (and arguably with reason) filled with strange morals-- such as deciding to play the part of a prostitute for fun and games-- her male counterpart, tantalizingly called Beauplaisir, strikes one as a rather cartoonish man. The only role he seems to play with any relish is the teaser, a male who makes pretenses toward love and yet cannot fulfill anyone in a satisfyingly emotional manner (other than the allure of mystery).

The character Fantomina can be liked for her ability to do as she pleases, without any regard for any social laws of decorum, but one can just as easily dislike her character for the same reasons. She becomes a prostitute to speak with a fellow, and she expects depth of character from a man who, as deplorable as HE is, cannot be said to be capricious (although his final enforcement of the act of sexual congress is a stain which cannot be said to be understandable). Should one pursue love, it is a strange game indeed to pursue it in the garb of a prostitute.

And yet the other games Fantomina plays become less shocking, and as her costumes become more pure, her character becomes more interesting and, at the same time, Beauplaisir becomes more despicable. She has become captivated by this man by dark means, but the more she desires his love, the more her games become understandable and human. Her conduct is still not moral, for sneaking, lying, and pretenses can hardly be said to be moral, but her reasons and motivations become pure and, ironically considering her liberal sexuality, chaste to Beauplaisir; that is, she knows no other love other than him, although in playing in her game, Beauplaisir is willingly committing what he would believe to be debauchery, even though it is with one who loves him greatly.

Although one can love Fantomina for her liberality, in the end, she is a liar, and her lies come back to haunt her in a rather brutal way. Her flaw is not that she was liberal but that she was false; however, for readers who felt empathy for her, there is the consideration that had she proved honest, Beauplaisir probably would have acted in the same way, becoming bored with her and moving on to another conquest.

However, there is the dilemma of trusting a man whose name translated means "good pleasure." Knowing his fickle nature, knowing his faults and his immoral desires, through attempting to be his "pleasure", Fantomina becomes tainted by his immorality, and the reader could easily anticipate that there must be an end to her game, and that, in the end, she would not win. In sleeping with 'the enemy', she becomes her own destruction.