Nightwalkers is a collection of prostitute narratives from the 1700s written not by the women themselves, but by those who claimed to possess the facts of their lives. So though we don’t hear their experiences first-hand, we do get a good look at the reasons why these specific women, and others like them, wound up in the oldest profession. The editor, Laura Rosenthal, did a fine job of gathering together a cross-section of reform, sentimental, and libertine narratives, each differing in style and tone and purpose (though none are the least titillating). As a result, we learn that some prostitutes, like today’s expensive call girls, moved freely and openly in high society, setting themselves up time and again as a wealthy man’s mistress in order to extract as much money and property from him as they could, occasionally leaving him bankrupt, or nearly so, in the process. Others longed to reform, but then as now, character references were needed for most respectable jobs, and these women had none. We find, too, that with society’s help, some fortunate prostitutes were able to mend their ways and live a happier life.
If you’ve read Richardson, Fielding, or Defoe, then you have an idea of what a prostitute’s life was like in eighteenth century England. But through the narratives in Nightwalkers, the reader comes to understand that not all of society condemned these women, and indeed, only the strictest moralist would find them all worthy of condemnation. Circumstances – There but for the grace of God go I – put many of these women on the streets and kept them there. Of course, there were those like Sally Salisbury, whose biography opens the book, who seemed born to the profession. No one reveled in her work like the beautiful, devious, acid-tongued Sally. “It was always my Ambition,” she was reported as saying, “to be a First-Rate Whore, and I think, I may say, without Vanity, That I am the greatest, and make the most considerable Figure of any in the Three Kingdoms.”