Nightwalkers: Prostitute Narratives from the Eighteenth Century (review)

Laura J. Rosenthal’s edition of eighteenth-century prostitute narratives offers a fine introduction to a fascinating subgenre that could have emerged only in the “hot” literary and sexual climate of the eighteenth century. Blending strategies employed in fiction, autobiography, and, sometimes, spiritual memoir, prostitute narratives captured the imagination of the reading public. As Rosenthal explains, “they offered sensual and sentimental journeys, glimpses into high life and low life, and relentless confrontations with the explosive power of money and the vulnerability of those without it” (ix). Readers of this anthology, however, should not come to it expecting to find any narratives actually written by prostitutes themselves. What we have here is a valuable introduction to the subject and well-chosen and compelling texts that reveal the variety of ways in which the prostitute and prostitution was framed, fictionalized, and moralized during the century.

The excellent introduction provides the critical foundation, with Rosenthal pointing out the popularity of the genre and speculating as to how it satisfied seemingly opposite groups of readers, those who were looking for erotic entertainment as well as those who were seeking spiritual or religious confirmation. As she defines it, prostitute narratives can be libertine, sentimental, reformist, “or somewhere in between,” but they all, with “varying degrees of sincerity,” ultimately issue warnings to their readers that they should not get caught up in the life itself or in engaging prostitutes for sex (xxiii). Rosenthal’s delineation of the characteristics of libertine, sentimental, and reformist narratives is concise and smart. The narratives in this anthology reveal the complicated relationships the writers and, presumably, the audience had with women who operated as sexual agents, sometimes powerfully so. Not surprisingly, these authors did not have simple approaches to or judgments of their subjects; some of the prostitutes are admired, others are damned. However, there seems to be a uniform recognition that the women fell into the trade out of necessity, and while it is true that some pursued it with more gusto than others, all the women are seen as unfortunate to some degree. Rosenthal’s comparison of prostitute narratives and canonical works of fiction where prostitutes are portrayed is especially interesting. Her discussion on how and why prostitute narratives are episodic rather than linear is enlightening and convincing.

Prostitution supported many professions in eighteenth-century Britain, not the least of which was the publishing industry. Rosenthal’s prefatory notes are helpful in placing the individual narratives into appropriate historical and literary context. Five narratives or parts thereof are included in the anthology:

1. 1. Captain Charles Walker, Authentick Memoirs of the Life, Intrigues, and Adventures of the Celebrated Sally Salisbury (1723);

2. 2. The Juvenile Adventures of Miss Kitty F[ishe]r (1759);

3. 3. From The Histories of Some of the Penitents in the Magdalen-House as Supposed to be Related by Themselves (1759);

4. 4. Martin Madan, An Account of the Death of F.S. Who Died April 1763, Aged Twenty-Six Years (1763); and

5. 5. An Authentic Narrative of the Most Remarkable Adventures, and Curious Intrigues, Exhibited n the Life of Miss Fanny Davies, the Celebrated Modern Amazon (1786).

The range of these narratives can be seen in a brief discussion of two that reveal the wide spectrum of attitudes and literary treatments articulated and employed by the authors.

Celebrated throughout London in the mid-century as a great beauty and talented courtesan, Catherine Maria Fisher was one of the few who managed to escape the sex trade and marry into a respectable family. The thinly veiled fictional persona employed in The Juvenile Adventures of Kitty Fisher was meant as a cover for her aristocratic clients, but fooled few readers. Published first in 1759, this is, as Rosenthal writes, a “Fielding-esque comic appreciation” (69) of what was in reality a harrowing period in a life that somehow had a happy ending, albeit one cut short by an early death at age 26 and just...