Eliza Haywood (1693-1756) (born Elizabeth Fowler) was an English writer, actress and publisher. Since the 1980s, Eliza Haywood's literary works have been gaining in recognition and interest. She wrote and published over seventy works during her lifetime including fiction, drama, translations, poetry, conduct literature and periodicals. Haywood is a significant figure of the long 18th century as one of the important founders of the novel in English. Her writing career began in 1719 with the first two installments of Love in Excess. Many of her works were published anonymously. Amongst her other works are Fantomina; or, Love in a Maze (1724), The Fortunate Foundlings (1744), Life's Progress Through the Passions; or, The Adventures of Natura (1748) and The History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless (1751).
Eliza Haywood (1693 – 1756), born Elizabeth Fowler, was an English writer, actress and publisher. Since the 1980s, Eliza Haywood’s literary works have been gaining in recognition and interest. Described as “prolific even by the standards of a prolific age” (Blouch, intro 7), Haywood wrote and published over seventy works during her lifetime including fiction, drama, translations, poetry, conduct literature and periodicals. Haywood is a significant figure of the 18th century as one of the important founders of the novel in English. Today she is studied primarily as a novelist.
I read this for my women's lit class and honestly at first I was bored, but boy does it pick up. I just find the female character in this novel to be ICONIC, a QUEEN that is Doing That! This is total internet/meme terminology that I normally wouldn't use in a Goodreads review, but that's exactly how I feel about this novel. I was describing the plot to my mom afterwards and screaming. We STAN!
Fantomina; or, Love in a Maze is a great, unique read that really hooked me.
I read this for a Brit Lit assignment and I was blown away. The lead female character is very manipulative, trying to get herself a man by donning many disguises. Depending on who looks at it, this woman is either a feminist genius or an evil woman. Either way, she's a really interesting character to follow.
Fantomina tries to woo Beauplaisir. When it doesn't go to plan, she wears numerous disguises and gets him to cheat on her with her. The ruse can't go on forever though. Once she sends many letters and tries to win him, she finds out some tragic news that brings her plight to an end.
Fantomina is a bit of a tragic character yet at the same time very strong. She has high self worth and wants to get what she wants. The struggles she faces are typical for the time, yet she doesn't go about them in a way that is accepted by society. She doesn't end up with the happy ending that would be expected of literature at the time. These disguises were used for comedic effect, yet this story inverts the typical trope of the time.
Overall, this story was awesome! I highly recommend it for people who want to read some older works.
What an absolutely batshit little novella. Oh, this guy doesn't like me? Let me just disguise myself as FOUR other women and seduce him all over again because he's too dumb to notice a difference. This is the actual concept of the text, and it's hilarious. For such an old piece of literature, I thought Fantomina actually did a lot of interesting preliminary work in discussing gender, consent, and relationships, too. One of a few classics I actually enjoyed reading.
My youngest sister was at my apartment while I was reading this. I told her I was reading a somewhat smutty early eighteenth century novel for one of my Master's classes. She then informed me that it couldn't be that smutty, because it was so old. I read her part of it, and her protestations were quelled; she agreed that it was, in fact, smutty.
Fantomina is such an interesting piece because it defies the usual conclusions for the female protagonist. Unlike some other novels written during the same period, Fantomina doesn't die in disgrace. The story is complicated by the fact that Fantomina's first encounter with Beauplaisir occurs when she pretends to be a prostitute. He coerces her into having sex with him, not listening to her protestations, and not understanding why she's upset about it later. This rape parallels other novels of the period, such as The Monk where a virtuous young lady is assaulted by a lecherous man. And yet, Fantomina succeeds in tricking Beauplaisir repeatedly into having sex with multiple characters that she creates. She enacts her agency to not only keep Beauplaisir unknowingly faithful to her, but also apparently to enjoy sex.
It's an interesting, if little read, novel from the period. And yes, it is quite smutty in parts.
When your man starts to loose interest, create various disguises and start seducing him as other people. You will feel perpetually pissed off because he is cheating on you with... well you, and spend way too much time on a toxic relationship with a guy who raped you in the first place. Ah well, you’ve got to find something to alleviate the boredom of your aristocratic existence.
A wonderfully over-the-top novella from 1725, in which the nameless heroine cycles through disguises and identities and roles, essentially engaging in an elaborate kind of sexual roleplaying in order to keep her shallow lover Beauplaisir interested enough to keep having sex with her. This book always surprises my students.
I'd forgotten that I read this about 3 years ago for an early/modern Brit Lit class. Goes to show you how much you plod through without even giving it so much as a second glance. After re-reading it last week, I can honestly say I'll probably forget having read it once again within a few months. Like a lot of the stuff I'm trudging through this semester, Fantomina is a text that I find really fascinating to talk about with others, but that doesn't wow me on some sort of visceral or long-term level. It's like 40 pages, it's repetitive, and not all that well written. It's kind of like a sixteenth-century Harlequin romance, complete with problematic mappings of female sexual consent. But as I said, it was interesting to contextualize alongside Locke's philosophies of consent and consciousness, and to think about emergent female subjectivities at this historical moment--it's a good text to look at literary history through, even if it isn't all that great.
The best part of all is that I'm almost certain Kate Bush's song "Babooshka" is inspired by this text. If you want the book in summary, just listen to that. Heh.
Fantomina follows the story of a wealthy girl interested in exposing men for being non-committal philanderers.
For an 18th century novel (novella?), the points that were made felt very modern and the book was easy to engage with as a result. The guises that the narrator took on were interesting and I think specifically chosen to provoke the reader and show how shocking and sexually promiscuous men at the time were.
Whilst this was a quick and fun read, aspects of the story felt unrealistic. It seemed improbable that a woman of the upper classes would have so much agency and autonomy to travel as the narrator did, unattended and unaccompanied. The ending was also disheartening, given the political stance of the novel. It was not surprising however given the period of its first publication.
That is how the most infuriating discussion I’ve ever been part of in University started.
“She does not know what is good for herself. It’s a bit sad to see her keep chasing Beauplaisir in desperation.”
Now the nature of English literature tutorials, which is not all that unlike the tutorials of other subjects in University, is that sometimes people will not listen to what you have to say at all! They will courteously tilt their head in your direction and patiently pretend they are digesting what is coming out of your mouth. Only, what they are really doing is answering emails, writing a paper for another class, or waiting for their turn to vomit their opinions. (Of course, I do not mean all do this. Something something no… I do not think I’m the only Real ™️ intellect in my classes… you get it. Anyway.) Or, in the case they are listening, they just do not want to let the conversation go in any direction but shallow bullshit. *cough* *cough* my TA for this class.
Perhaps my extreme reaction to those comments on Fantomina’s character could have been because I saw myself in bits of Fantomina. And, well, the attack goes from impersonal to insulting to my person. This is not to say that one should not criticize the made up people in our little books for fear of insulting someone that confides in said character. That would be utterly ridiculous. But my faint connection to Fantomina is what allowed me to feel a bit more sympathy toward the girl than other’s might have. But at the end of the day, we’re all girls. We can all see bits of ourselves in Fantomina. I’m certainly not unique in this. Therefore, we all should look a bit beyond “I just think Fantomina is lost.”.
They’re such defeating claims, those that my classmates made.
But I don’t think that is what Eliza Haywood wrote for her character. I don’t think that’s what she meant to portray with Fantomina at all.
Part One: Do you think Fantomina’s desires are problematic?
Do you think Fantomina’s desires are problematic? Ethical? Right? Dangerous? Hm? Do you?
I don’t. But somehow my TA thought it was an appropriate question to start with. In that same moment, my silly little brain had a thought. It’s this incredibly amazing thing that happens to be ✨ logic ✨. If Fantomina’s desires are so dangerous and problematic… pardon me, but wouldn’t you need to ask the same about Beauplaisir? Or any other man in the text? But if not, and if I am completely wrong to expect the same treatment toward all characters in the text, it is a bit early to ask that question. How can you begin to answer the question of the ethics of Fantomina’s actions before unpacking her motivations for committing said very actions.
Someone did a murder. Do you think what they did is justifiable? Come on, Yes or No?
It does not work like that. Much needed context is lacking. Was an attacker killed in self-defence? Was there a car accident? Revenge killing? The prior events that led to the unfolding of The Act matter. They distinguish the ethical from unethical.
So unless you are ready to discuss Bauplaisir being a manwhore and the ethics behind this fact, I suggest we move on to something else.
Part Two: So Then, What Was Fantomina Doing?
Simple. Experimentation.
In this case, I do not mean sexual experimentation. Although that did occur.
See, Fantomina began to notice something. The men around her do not seem to engage deeply with the women whom they know they might potentially run into again. They will gladly confide in strangers, spilling thoughts that plague them and revealing true opinions. But they will never reveal their true personality to people in their circles.
“She had often seen him in the drawing-room, had talked with him; but then her quality and reputed virtue kept him from using her with that freedom she now expected he would do, and had discovered something in him which had made her often think she would not be displeased, if he would abate some part of his reserve.–“ (Haywood, 610 - Coming from my thick Norton Anthology)
And so, Famtomina is ready to go on a quest, undergo a transformation to turn her into a beguiling single-use stranger in order to see what makes Beauplaisir tick. And what better time to do such a thing when one is young and can bury their youthful activities under “those were but teenage shenanigans, I am wholly changed now”? Fantomina herself says as much. The idea to disguise herself four different ways was born from wonder and trying to understand her male counterparts better. She had “no other aim than the gratification of an innocent curiosity” (Haywood, 610).
And in all honesty, if you could do something inconceivably stupid in your youth, wouldn’t you? Something so asinine that it would only be found in the biography of a radical. Blood pacts, trespassing, prison sentences. Not a soul will bat an eye if you add that it was an Undergrad endeavour. They will be slightly more concerned if you explain you’d done so at mid-age instead.
Part Three: Revisiting the Question
So. Are Fantomina’s desires problematic? Sure.
On a fundamental level, one should always be straight with someone, not conceal one’s identity, be most polite, treat all with kindness, and abstain from manipulation to obtain whatever you wish. In theory, on paper, many things sound quite straightforward. Of course, the world does not function like that, much to the wake-up call I received at thirteen years old. Perhaps Fantomina’s ways are not capital E, “Ethical”. But whose are? It is not a new idea, that there is no such thing as a perfect human being. To call Fantomina’s actions and desires immoral would be to call every person an immoral being.
“But the consequences!” they cry. Yes. The consequences. The only person to suffer any consequences is Fantomina herself. She must now look to rearing a child because of her little experiment. And Beauplaisir? No injuries sustained, his title was not stripped, nor did society shun the gentleman. He got of scot free! And no one expects it of him to help raise Fantomina’s child. But even in the case that he had suffered exactly those consequences, being dishonourably knocked down the social ladder for being promiscuous, it would be just as much his own faults. His actions to pursue these strangers, because let’s be real Fantomina didn’t get pregnant by fucking herself, are his and his alone to answer for.
Fantomina wanted to play. Beauplaisir entertained her proposition and rolled the die all on his own.
This book is, in short, a fictional expose on the fickleness, and inconstancy of men, especially in regards to their affections. A curious woman decides to indulge in her inquisitiveness whilst at a play, that being how gentlemen approach prostitutes, the next evening dressing and acting like one. After particular interest from one guy, the evening after the next she goes back to her lodgings she has procured, with him, having no inclination to indulge in the activities he so very obviously expects from her, but her protestations aren’t listened to. She decides she has particular affections for this man and so starts a love affair. But as is frequently stated, possession only serves to abate desire, and his affections grow insipid. So she takes on the character of another, and they start a love affair, his affections grow cold, this is copied another two times. She seems to have zero reservations in the world about this and believes herself one of the luckiest women in the world, for she was constantly experiencing that ardour of affection which comes at the beginning of an affair, but lo and behold she was not to be so lucky. I didn’t think myself overly absorbed in this, until I was so surprised by a supposed twist which should have been so obvious, that in hindsight I was rather wrapt up in it, but the whole time I was acutely aware, I was enjoying it very much.
I found myself fascinated by this woman, this incredibly powerful Fantomina, for a woman of the 18th century. Fantomina was nothing like a woman was expected to be. She was bold, promiscuous, vain, and above all else, shameless. I spent the short hour it took me to read this, exploring the mind of a young woman rationalising her desire for male attention. She lies, deceives, manipulates. She adopts different personalities and essentially stalks her lover when he becomes disinterested. She was no character to aspire to be, which was maybe what made her so compelling. Fantomina was a character archetype that didn't exist in 1725, that Eliza Haywood so bravely portrays in this novella. I just loved it.