A Prince of Swindlers Read Free

literary efforts are forgotten by modern readers, his stories rank among the best popular crime fiction published during the turn of the twentieth century.
A Prince of Swindlers
should certainly be included in this list.
    In the Preface to
A Prince of Swindlers,
Boothby establishes a clever framing device for the interconnected short stories that follow. The narrator, the Earl of Amberley, offers an embarrassed explanation to the reader, who learns that Simon Carne’s spectacular series of thefts has already occurred, and that the manuscript of these adventures is intended to provide a cathartic redemption for the Earl of Amberley and his guilt at being an unwitting part of Carne’s plans. The principal manuscript of
A Prince of Swindlers
is written by Carne himself, and is presented to Amberley as a mocking gift intended both to celebrate Carne’s criminal accomplishments and humiliate Amberley for his gullibility. Though structured by the framing device of Amberley’s reception, handling, and commentary about Simon Carne’s manuscript,
A Prince of Swindlers
functions as a type of elaborate moral confession of both the triumphant con artist and the conned fool.
    A Prince of Swindlers
also serves as a subversive critique of the class-based economic system in late-Victorian Britain. The “brilliant season” in London that is described as the backdrop to Simon Carne’s criminal exploits, the reader is told, acts as an attraction to the wealthy (and those who prey on the wealthy). The implication behind Carne’s various successful schemes against London’s social elite is that the privileged are a group of blithering idiots undeserving of their great wealth and privilege, because although a supposedly superior social class they are, in fact, easily duped by false appearances and insincere grace. Great wealth functions in these stories as a burden rather than as a privilege, something that can make you both a fool and a victim. By implication, in Carne’s ridiculing narrative, wealth and social standing are something to be wary of; however, no practical alternative to the pursuit of wealth and social standing is ever given. Boothby’s criticism is not of wealth itself, but of the incompetent upper-crust fools who mismanage the financial responsibilities of their elevated position in society.
    Though Carne follows his own personal code of honor (he does not steal from Amberley, his sponsor in London society), he is nevertheless guilty of the sin of pride, as exemplified by the boastful tone in which he celebrates his deeds. The physical existence of his confessional manuscript detailing his criminal exploits is emblematic of his tremendous ego and prideful nature. One would imagine that a “professional” thief would want to attract as little attention as possible to his crimes, but for Simon Carne the success of his various schemes is apparently only part of his ambitions. He also wants to embarrass the British high society that could so easily be taken in by his acting, a performance that underscores the duality of his nature as a person and as a gentleman thief.
    This duality is best represented by his physical appearance. Simon Carne masks his inward moral deformity with his hunchback disguise. By implication, then, Carne’s false outward appearance of fortune and social position masks his actual, inner wicked nature. Beauty and deformity—both physical and spiritual—are transposed with each other, and ultimately become confusing to the hapless victims of Carne’s schemes. Boothby, however, also employs a wonderful sense of humor with this character, as illustrated in the ironic description of Carne’s portrait in the book’s Preface, which offers an amusingly blunt clue about Carne’s pretend physical deformity that the obtuse Earl of Amberley fails to recognize. Carne is thus having a wonderful joke on the social elite that he swindles, a