Spare me cruel and unusual punishments of fictional villains

I've now come to the conclusion that the main characters in Karleen Koen's "Dark Angels" have to be fictional. What convinced me was the too-good-to-be-trueness of its hero. Spotless soldiering record; charming if dilapidated family seat in the country; a talent for leading men and gaining their respect; decency and loyalty in abundance; manly, viking-like good looks which form a contrast with the decadent male beauty on display at the devious French court and in an English Molly house; the kind of social conscience Gladstone would have approved of; a doomed, gallant love for the ninny Louise Renée de Keroualle (who is historical enough: I could have told him from the outset that mooning over her was a bad idea) - yep, this is a hero all right, and if I'm not mistaken an entirely fictional one. That would mean that Alice, her closest circle and, more importantly, the attractive poisoner Henri Ange are made-up as well. I'm relieved as this makes me feel slightly less guilty about finding him seriously hot.

Poor Henri, though - I made the mistake of taking a peek further on in the book in order to determine when he would be making his next appearance, and it seems he is hurtling towards a very grisly fate indeed. Now, I realise he deserves a grisly fate. This is a man who commits heinous crimes in cold blood and without repentance. Still, I had hoped for a clean kill, not prolonged suffering with no end in sight (it could still happen of course: one shouldn't put too much faith in sneak peeks).

Which leads me to a question which has always flummoxed me. Is it true that there really are people out there, maybe even a majority, who experience satisfaction and Schadenfreude when fictional villains are punished? Frankly, it's beyond me. If you are morally elevated enough to root for the hero and heroine, shouldn't you be above sniggering at the discomfiture of their enemies? I never did understand the penchant for fairy-tale-like punishments of wickedness that some authors have. "The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means", the prim governess in Oscar Wilde's "The Importance of Being Ernest" explains (which goes to show that he had some problem with this concept too). I understand the allure of happy endings as much as anyone: I don't mind the good ending happily at all. But must the bad end unhappily? Isn't it enough that the author makes sure, in one way or another, that they never bother the good again?

Oddly, in a fictional universe, I feel capital punishment to be one of the more lenient forms of dealing with your villain. I seldom mind a villain death: it is sad, yes, but much better than some of the alternatives, as it is at least quick. It wasn't Carker's violent death in "Dombey and Son" that depressed me when I read it, it was the humiliation and mental collapse preceding it. I didn't mind Ralph Nickleby committing suicide: but the plot twist leading him to do so was too, too horrible. Yes, we're back to Dickens, who offers some good examples of excessive villain-punishing. Often he is at least canny enough to describe the villain's downfall not with lip-smacking relish but soberly and darkly like the tragedy it is. On the other hand, sometimes he's not. There is a certain pettiness in the punishments inflicted on especially minor villains. Are we really meant to crow over the offal-eating lives of total destitution which the Brasses are condemned to; over the broken legs of Sim Tappertit (who prided himself on them); over the double disappointments of Charity Pecksniff and over Mrs Sparsit ending up "in a mean, airless lodging, a mere closet for one, a mere crib for two" together with the "grudging, smarting, peevish, tormenting" Lady Scadgers? How can one do that and still retain the moral high ground?

There are roughly speaking three villain fates I prefer: 1) death 2) redemption and 3) getting off scot-free. I realise that alternative 3) must be used with caution (though it's the best if you ever think of writing a sequel: redemption ends a villain's career as neatly as death). Justice ought to be done in some way, and the happy ending of the goodies should not seem to be under constant threat. Still, surely alternative 2) could be used a bit more often (though maybe not in the case of conscience-free Henri Ange)?

I try to console myself with the thought that classy villains normally do not indulge in self-pity, whatever fate has in store for them: they realise that he who dishes out meanness must also be able to take it. In the words of Flintheart Glomgold's memorable lament to the Heavens in one of Don Rosa's Scrooge McDuck adventures (translated into Swedish and back, so probably not word perfect): "What have I done to deserve this? On second thoughts, don't answer that."