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An Eighteenth Century Conwoman by Rose Lerner

Rose Lerner first published this article on the History Hoydens blog when she was writing the first book in her current series, Sweet Disorder. The second book, True Pretenses, was released this month.

In March, Rose will be teaching a class through the Beau Monde Academe on Electoral Politics and Woman’s Participation. This is a fabulous class which I urge you to attend! And now, without further ado, here’s Rose:

“Where they lived in an expensive Manner”

I’ve been doing a lot of reading about early newspapers for the WIP (my heroine’s first husband was a provincial newspaper editor and his little brother, who runs the paper now, is a major character), and in From Grub Street to Fleet Street: An Illustrated History of English Newspapers, by Bob Clarke, I came across something fascinating: an account of an eighteenth century conwoman!  She’d make a great heroine, I think, if you played it right.  The first part of her story (at least, Clarke believes it’s the same woman, and it does seem likely but not 100% conclusive unless you see something I don’t) appears in the January 10th, 1765 St. James Chronicle:

“A few Weeks ago a genteel Woman, about 25 Years of Age, applied to a Farmer and Broom-Maker, near Hadleigh in Hants for a Lodging; telling him that she was the Daughter of a Nobleman, and forced from her Father’s House by his ill Treatment. Her Manner of relating the Story so affected the Farmer, that he took her in and kindly entertained her.  In the Course of Conversation, she artfully let drop that she had a Fortune of 90,000l. of which she should be possessed as soon as her Friends in London knew where she was.  After some Days Stay, she told the Farmer, that the best Return in her Power for his Favours, would be to marry his Son Thomas (a lad of about 18) if it was agreeable to him.  The poor old Man was overjoyed at the Proposal, and in a short Time they were married; after which she informed her Father-in-Law she had great Interest at Court; and if he could for the present raise Money to equip them in a genteel Manner, she should procure a Colonel’s Commission for her Husband. The credulous Farmer thereupon mortgaged his little estate for 100l. and every Thing necessary being bought for the new-married Couple, they took the rest of the Money and set out for London, accompanied by three of the Farmer’s Friends, and got to the Bear Inn in the Borough on Christmas Eve; where they lived in an expensive Manner; and she went in a Coach every Morning to St. James’s End of the Town, on Pretence of Soliciting for her Husband’s Commission, and to obtain her own Fortune: but it was at length discovered that the Woman was an Impostor; and the poor Country People were obliged to sell their Horses by Auction, towards defraying the Expenses at the Inn, before they could set out on their Return Home, which they did on Foot last Saturday Morning.  Before the fatal Discovery, the Company were greatly pleased with the Woman’s behavior, as she was not only very sprightly and engaging in Conversation, but sang and played on the Guitar to Perfection.  By the Description given, she is supposed to be the same Woman who has for near two Years past obtained Money, by imposing on the Compassion and Credulity of different Persons in Town and Country.”

Image courtesy Wikipedia Commons
Image courtesy Wikipedia Commons

The second article is in Say’s Weekly Journal, October 24th 1767:

“At the general quarter sessions held for the borough of Devizes, on the 9th instant, one Sarah Boxall was convicted upon the vagrant act, and adjudged a vagabond: She declared her maiden name was Wilson, and that about two years since she was married to Farmer Boxall, of Frensham in Surrey, her own relations living in London.–It seems this woman has for some time past been travelling through almost all parts of the kingdom, assuming various roles and characters. At different times and places she has pretended herself to be of high birth and distinction, as well foreign as English, and according stiled herself a Princess of Mecklenbourg, Countess of Normandy, Lady Vicountess Wilbrahammon, &c., and under some or other of such names made promises of providing, by means of her weight and interest, for the families of the lower class of people, at the same time borrowing money from them, and giving notes in payment. Unto those of higher rank she has represented herself to be in the greatest distress, abandoned by her parents and friends of considerable family, either on account of an unfortunate love affair, or of religion, pretending to be Protestant against the will of her relations, Roman Catholicks, and always varying the account of herself, as she chanced to pick up intelligence of the characters and connections of those she intended to impose upon.–A description of the person of this woman was published in the evening posts of July 1, and July 15, 1766, dated from Coventry, and Great Budworth in Cheshire. Since that she has been mostly in the North of England upon the like errand, till July last, when she thought proper to direct her travels for the Western counties, and in these parts gone about to the houses of divers families; among other, she had the impudence to visit Lord Bottetourt, in Gloucestershire, and attempted the like civility to the Countess of Shelbourne, while in Wiltshire, but endeavouring to impose false and crafty representations of her distress on sundry person in the Devizes, information thereof was made before Charles Carth, Esq.; who issued a warrant for her apprehension; in consequence whereof, she is to be conveyed, by a pass, to Frensham (sworn by her to be the place of her husband’s settlement [RL: I’ve come across “settlement” before as a legal term, meaning the parish of which you are a resident and from which you’re entitled to poor relief should you become insolvent] after the time of her punishment ordered upon her conviction is expired.–She is a short, slender woman, of a pale complexion, somewhat deformed, has a speck or kell over one eye, and dresses in a lightish coloured riding habit.”

Image courtesy Wikipedia Commons
Image courtesy Wikipedia Commons

On the one hand, I love con artists (Welcome to Temptation and Faking It are two of my favorite romances EVER, and I also adore the British TV series Hustle–and I loved A Most Lamentable Comedy by fellow Hoyden Janet Mullany, in which two fortune hunters pretending to be wealthy try to marry each other for money); on the other hand, it’s hard to feel good about taking advantage of poor people’s ignorance and talking them into mortgaging their homes.

On the other other hand, I tend to get annoyed when criminals are set up to do crime for a good cause and only target evil schmucks, because I think, you know, being a con artist is unethical. And I can enjoy the fun of it as long as the narrative knows it’s unethical (I mean, I can enjoy heroes who’ve murdered people, why should a little con artistry be a deal breaker?), but once the narrative starts telling me, “No, it’s 100% okay to completely ruin this guy because he’s ugly and mean,” I get antsy about it.

I’m also, to be honest, not a big fan of stories about cops who “don’t mind getting their hands dirty when someone really needs to go down.” I like my criminal and law enforcement Venn diagram not to intersect, I guess!

Rose Lerner's Venn diagram

One of the things I loved about Courtney Milan’s Unraveled was how the legal plotline was dealt with: the hero is a magistrate and the heroine works for the local mob doing small con jobs.  Courtney Milan never shied away from the abuses and problems within the legal system, and the mob did serve a valuable function, but at the same time she really resisted the urge to romanticize vigilantism.

So what do you think? Is Sarah Boxall heroine material? If you were going to adapt her story for a romance, how would you do it?

~ * ~

© 2012 – 2015 Rose Lerner

This article was originally published on the History Hoydens blog in February, 2012.

Posted at The Beau Monde by permission of the author.

 

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3 Comments

  1. An anti-heroine of sorts , perhaps but I dislike conmen and women and wouldn’t read a novel I had to pay for featuring the, I dislike thieves and have even come to dislike reading about RobinHood . Dirty cops and members of the mob both get thumbs down. As I have gotten older, I have become much more conservative and to dislike smugglers and pirates.

  2. I have to agree that I don’t like my Venn diagrams to intersect. This has become more noticable as I have matured like Nancy. I think, knowing what I know now and the real costs and outcomes of those actions, I can no longer suspend belief, or moral outrage, when a “hero” or “heroine” do something I believe reflects badly on their character or morals. If I did do a conwoman heroine, it would have to be a first time, maybe with a well off person connected to or the hero himself and be a case of real desperation to save someone they love eg. frail younger sibling She would then have to suffer to redeem herself

  3. It was the same woman. She married Thomas Boxall at St Mary’s Church, Frensham Surrey on 17 December 1764.
    About five years ago I decided to go in search of Sarah. Despite the first report, Sarah was about 19 or 20 when she married Thomas. As Sarah had used a false name and may even have been married before, he was free to marry again.
    Beginning in her late teens Sarah wandered alone all over England, living dangerously on her wits, inventing new identities for herself, telling different stories to suit different audiences in order to fool people into providing her with food and shelter, money and expensive clothes. A Coventry Justice of the Peace who interviewed her in 1766 described Sarah as “The greatest Impostress of the present Age”.
    After four or five years on the road one of her crimes caught up with her. Sir John Fielding sent Sarah to prison to await trial for obtaining a full set of clothes by false pretences. She was found guilty and sentenced to be transported to America. In 1768, after a spell in Newgate awaiting the next convict ship, she sailed for Maryland where escaped from her master and began a new set of adventures.
    In Virginia and the Carolinas she was passed from one plantation house to another as an honoured guest in the guise of King George III’s sister-in-law where she, “made astonishing impressions in many places, affecting the mode of royalty so inimitably, that many had the honour to kiss her hand; to some she promised governments, to others regiments, with promotions of all kinds, in the Treasury, Army and in the Royal Navy [and] levied heavy contributions upon some persons of the highest rank in the Southern colonies.”
    Sarah moved north and stayed in Boston from 7 December 1773 to 11 January 1774 as Princess Carolina Matilda, Princess of Cronenburgh, Marchioness de Waldegrave. She might have been one of those who watched the Sons of Liberty throwing the chests of tea from the three ships in Boston Harbour on the night of 16 December 1773. While still maintaining her royal pretentions, Sarah decided to play the religious card, becoming the house-guest of Congregationalists in New England, some of whom were also actively involved in the revolutionary cause at the onset of the War of Independence.
    At some stage Sarah appears to have been adopted by John and Lydia Costelloe, a wealthy couple in Berwick, Maine. She died at their house in 1780.
    My book about her, Impostress: The Dishonest Adventures of Sarah Wilson, was published by The History Press (UK), and released in America on 1 October 2019.
    Twentieth Century Fox have bought an exclusive option to purchase the film and TV rights with a view (if they go ahead) to making a TV series based on her adventures.
    Bob Clarke

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