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.
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.
posted by Shannon | 7:46 AM
2 Comments:
Shannon, you have brought up some points that I am sure will come up in class. My question for you is: when you talk about the (im)morality of the characters' behaviour, whose standards are you using? Their own (i.e. 18thc standards as you understand them)? Or yours? And what are the implications for each of these approaches, in terms of studying cultural and literary texts?
I am responding to her (im)morality in probably a practical perspective (namely that, given her actions, the probability that she should evade consequence is fairly nonexistent, thus making her actions impractical in a manner often considered the moral realm-- i.e., sexuality) In this way, my perspective was intented to be Absolutist and thus somewhat devoid of chronological concerns, but if I had to say whether I spoke from or against the time period, I would have to say considering her love remained "chaste" (at least in the medieval sense) then she is not particularily acting in an immoral way (or so considered at the time) but in a rather childish and impractical way.
As for the details of the chronology, I admit ignorance toward the views of sexuality of the time period. Understandably, the views were obviously focused on freedom and they obviously did not have the scorn for sexuality that the victorians would later embrace (although sexuality seems to hold some power as a taboo even within the reception of Eliza Haywood), so for me, it becomes hard to place. Personally, on an Absolutist perspective (that Morality has nothing to do with time and place, at least in terms of truth, even if much can be said about what is acceptable over what is true) I think her actions to be outside of morality, for she has no evil intentions per se, nor does she seem to have much planning unto the greater good, so her decisions cannot be said to be "wrong" or "right" inasmuch as poorly thought out.
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