The Magic of Name-Dropping and the ol' switcheroo

Today's case from the records of the Old Bailey really caught my eye. First, because of the reference to Sir Isaac Newton and secondly because of the location. The prosecutor (that means the victim, who was the person who brought charges in those days) lived in Shoe Lane, which was very close to Cloth Fair, where we stayed in London. Map

We stayed in the flat that had belonged to Sir John Betjeman, which is one of several properties belonging to the Landmark Trust. You can see a picture in the Wikipedia entry - the flat is through that side door and above the wine bar named after him. It's also directly across from St. Bartholemew's, the setting for one of the weddings in Three Weddings and a Funeral and the hospital by that name. It was outside the church that William Wallace was executed.

The Landmark Trust takes places that are of historic interest and renovates them for holiday accommodation. As you can see by the map, the location of this flat in Cloth Fair is fabulous and the price was very reasonable - although it did feature the sort of wacky plumbing we often encountered in England. (Please, what is with the two separate taps, one for hot, one for cold? And we had a shower in one hotel that I swear was designed by a crazed engineer. We had to have somebody come up and show us how to work the thing, and even then, I gave up and suffered through freezing water.) We also stayed in a House of Correction in Lincolnshire that been built on the site of a Norman castle and still had the moat. It also had a lovely bathroom, a kitchen I used as inspiration for our own kitchen remodel and a picture of the guy who had once been the fattest man in Lincolnshire.

Now on to the case and how I could use it for story seedlings:

In 1738, Honour Penery was charged with stealing several items, mostly clothing, from Jane Ellard.

Jane claimed that, in the course of looking for work, she encountered Honour and another woman who claimed they could help her. When they showed up at her lodgings the next day, they also claimed to be apprentices of Sir Isaac Newton and before they could help her, "they must first calculate my Nativity." They then pulled out "a great Book with Heads and Hands in it", spouted all sorts of stuff that seemed to confuse her until they told her she had to bundle up all her things. Jane claims she was skeptical from the get-to - she told them, "that's quite silly, and if any body should hear this Business besides our selves, they would laugh at us."

Nevertheless, Honour and her cohort, who is supposedly her mistress, keep up the pressure, with the interesting argument that "suppose you were Sick, and a Physician comes and prescribes Physick for you, - if you won't take it, what Good can he do you? 'Tis all the same Thing, we can't pretend to do you any Good, unless you'il do as you are ordered."

Jane caves and does as they say. Honour and her partner then tell her the goods must be wrapped in brown paper very tightly, which she does. Then they tell her to kneel and say the Lord's prayer. "I refused at first, but by fair Means and foul they made me at last say the Lord's Prayer."

Next, Jane says, "Then they bid me turn about and open the Windows, which we had shut, for fear any body should see what we were about."

Honour's friend then tells her that "she must treat with me upon such a Spot of Ground, and bid me, - because it rain'd, - put on my Hat, least I should catch Cold. I went out with them as far as the Royal Bed, the Corner of Holborn, there they told me a young Man was to meet me, and would give me a Gold Ring, charging me not to look at my Bundle 'till Eight o'Clock at Night; at Eight o'Clock I found myself a great Sufferer by them, for all my Cloaths were gone, that I had worked for a great while."

It turns out the bundles had been switched, and Jane's now contained nothing by hay and straw. And the women had gotten clean away.

However, Jane did find a new place, in the above-mentioned Shoe Lane, and after about a fortnight, happened to see Honour pass by. She's completely gobsmacked, so much so she's too stunned to move. When Honour passes by again, Jane calls for a young man to go after her, Honour's caught and imprisoned.

Honour denies everything.

Another woman, Mary Lee, then testifies that Honour pulled the same switcheroo on her, taking "two large Silver Spoons, two small Spoons, two Gold Rings, and several other Things, exactly in the same Manner."

Honour denies that, too, saying, "I am a Mantua-maker, and never kept Company with any other Woman in my Life. I am as innocent as the Child that is born, - and welcome is the Grace of God."

Three women all named Elizabeth (Elizabeth Woods, Elizabeth Wheeler and Elizabeth Whiting) testify for Honour, saying they "never heard of the Prisoner's being a Conjurer, never heard Harm of her, nor ever saw any fine Book with Heads and Hands in it in her Custody."

The word of the three Lizzies doesn't do much for Honour. She's found guilty, fined 39 shillings and transported.

Here's what I find interesting in this case - and there's lots.

The woman's name, Honour Penery, because "penery" sounds a lot like "penury" which means "severe poverty." A con artist named Honour whose last name means poor. Sounds like something out of Dickens!

The notion that the con artists claim to work for Sir Isaac Newton. Now, Sir Isaac was already dead. Either the dupes didn't know this, or if they did, it means the women were claimed they had been his apprentices. Would a man like Sir Isaac have had women apprentices? In either case, Sir Isaac did apparently dabble in the occult, so claiming that they had learned magic from the man wouldn't have been completely out of the realm of believability.

I also note they produced a "great book," which suggests it was large and therefore, presumably, rather impressive. I don't know if Jane or Mary could read, but it was likely impressive nonetheless.

Jane seems to take great pains to note that she was skeptical from the start and was more or less bullied into taking part in the ritual. I also note that she was wary of being observed. Either she was afraid of looking foolish, or frightened for another reason. Witchcraft was only abolished as a crime in 1736, a mere two years before this, so I can believe people still believed in and were frightened of witches, and therefore ready to attack anybody they suspected of such activity.

Jane also relates that the two con artists were concerned about her catching cold - the better to make her think they were nice, I assume.

So, what seedlings to do I have here?

Well, the whole con, for one thing, and especially the fact that the women mention Sir Isaac Newton and the fact he got into the occult (which was news to me). That would make for some interesting historical elements that a lot of readers wouldn't know but might, like me, find interesting.

I note the promise that Jane would be met by a young man who would give her a gold ring. Not money, not the job she was apparently looking for when she first met the women, but a gold ring like, say, a wedding ring?

I don't think I could make a dupe the heroine. That makes her seem too dim. But she could certainly be tied to the heroine (say, a sister, cousin or servant). I like the notion that while the dupe claims she was seeking help finding a job, she may have had romance on her mind (the young man).

What if a young man happened along at the same time the dupe was waiting? What if he had a ring? Not that he's on his way to propose to somebody...wait - why not?

Better yet, what if the heroine takes the place of the dupe because she wants to catch everybody involved in the con and this comely young fellow happens along on his way to propose to another woman. The heroine assumes he's in on the fraud and...mayhem ensues.

If I had paranormal leanings, I could make what seems a con, not a con. The spell really works and this meeting is the result.

Or I could make this meet really sexy by having it take place not in the street, but in a bedroom. In the dark. And the hero assumes she's his bride-to-be.

Indeed, I like this last idea a LOT. I may very well use it. You heard it here first!