Let’s be real for a second. If you pick up a copy of Roxana The Fortunate Mistress, you probably expect a dusty, dry piece of 18th-century "literature" that lectures you on morality. You might think it’s just another Moll Flanders or some boring precursor to Jane Austen.
You’d be wrong.
Daniel Defoe’s final novel, published way back in 1724, is actually a dark, psychological thriller masquerading as a memoir. It is arguably the most cynical book of its era. While Robinson Crusoe was out building fences on an island and Moll Flanders was pickpocketing her way to a happy retirement, Roxana was busy dismantling the entire concept of the "virtuous woman."
Honestly, it’s a vibe. A terrifying, cold-blooded vibe.
The Plot That Google Summaries Usually Miss
Most people know the basic setup. A beautiful woman, the daughter of French refugees, gets married to a "fool." That’s Defoe’s word, not mine. This guy is a brewer who manages to blow through their entire fortune and then—poof—he vanishes. He literally goes out hunting and never comes back, leaving Roxana with five kids and zero pence.
What happens next is where the story gets uncomfortable.
Roxana doesn't just "find a way." She makes a series of brutal, transactional decisions that would make a modern corporate raider blush. She realizes early on that in a patriarchal society, her only liquid asset is herself. She sells her virtue to her landlord, then to a prince, then to a merchant.
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But here’s the kicker: she doesn't do it because she’s a "fallen woman" in the Victorian sense. She does it because she loves the money. She becomes a "she-merchant."
Why the "Turkish Dress" Actually Matters
You've probably seen the cover art with the lady in the exotic outfit. That’s the "Roxana" persona. After amassing a fortune in France and Italy, she returns to London and hosts these wild, high-society parties. She performs a "Turkish dance" in a costume she basically looted from the spoils of war.
It’s performance art as social climbing.
She isn't even named Roxana; that’s just a stage name the crowd gives her because she looks so "Oriental." The name sticks, and it completely erases her real identity, Susan. This is Defoe showing us how a woman can be totally consumed by her own brand. It's 18th-century influencer culture gone horribly wrong.
Roxana The Fortunate Mistress: A Proto-Feminist or a Villain?
This is where scholars like Maximillian Novak and Paula Backscheider get into heated debates. Is Roxana a hero for refusing to marry the Dutch merchant because she wants to keep control of her own bank account?
She famously tells him that a wife is basically an "upper servant" or a slave. She argues that a single woman is "masculine in her politic capacity"—meaning she has the legal right to own property and make deals.
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"The very nature of the marriage contract was... nothing but giving up liberty, estate, authority, and everything to the man."
That’s a radical take for 1724. Like, seriously radical.
But then there's the Amy problem. Amy is her maid, her shadow, and eventually, her literal partner in crime. When Roxana’s past starts catching up with her—specifically in the form of a daughter she abandoned years ago—the book turns into a horror movie.
The Ending Nobody Likes to Talk About
Most Defoe novels end with a nice "I’m sorry, God" moment. The character repents, gets rich, and lives happily ever after. Roxana The Fortunate Mistress does the opposite.
The daughter, also named Susan, starts hunting Roxana down. She remembers the Turkish dress. She remembers the face. She is a walking, talking evidence locker of Roxana's "wicked" past.
What does Roxana do? She doesn't embrace her. She doesn't even just pay her off. She lets Amy "handle it."
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The book never explicitly describes the murder, but it’s heavily implied that Amy kills the girl to protect Roxana’s new status as a Countess. The novel ends abruptly, with Roxana falling into a "dreadful course of calamities." No redemption. No peace. Just a cold, hard stop.
The Economic Engine Behind the Lust
If you want to understand why this book still hits hard in 2026, look at the math. Defoe was obsessed with trade. He wrote The Complete English Tradesman around the same time. To him, Roxana isn't just a mistress; she’s an entrepreneur.
- Capital Accumulation: She tracks every florin and pistole.
- Risk Management: She refuses marriage because it’s a bad merger.
- Diversification: She moves her assets across borders to avoid seizure.
She treats her body like a commodity and her lovers like venture capitalists. It’s a very "business" approach to survival. This is why the book feels so modern. It’s about the soul-crushing reality of extreme capitalism.
Actionable Insights for the Modern Reader
If you're planning to dive into this 300-year-old mid-life crisis of a book, here is how to actually get something out of it:
- Don't trust the narrator. Roxana is the definition of an unreliable narrator. She’s constantly justifying her choices to us (and herself). Watch for the moments where she contradicts her own "guilt."
- Look for the "Double Time." Notice how the story takes place during the reign of Charles II, but it’s written in the 1720s. Defoe is using the past to criticize the "nouveau riche" of his own time.
- Pay attention to Amy. In many ways, Amy is the most interesting character. She is the one who actually gets her hands dirty so Roxana can keep her "virtue" (or at least the appearance of it).
- Compare it to the Korean "Roxana" Manhwa. Yes, there's a popular webtoon/manhwa called Roxana (or The Way to Protect the Female Lead's Older Brother). While it's a fantasy isekai, the themes of a "villainess" navigating a cutthroat, patriarchal world are a direct nod to Defoe's original "Fortunate Mistress."
Read it as a character study in transformation. Roxana shows us what happens when a person decides that financial security is the only thing that matters. It turns out, you can buy a title and a palace, but you can't buy a way out of your own history.
Start with an annotated edition like the Oxford World's Classics. The footnotes on the currency alone are worth it. You'll see that Roxana wasn't just "fortunate"—she was calculating, and that's much more interesting.