Another reminder why nostalgia is a crock: for most people in the past, life was really shitty. Rubenhold uses a book, Harris' List of Covent Garden Ladies, as a peg on which to hang her evocation of London's seedy underbelly in the latter half of the eighteenth century. The two men most responsible for the book, which was basically a guidebook to the available prostitutes in and around the Covent Garden area, were John Harrison (aka Jack Harris), Pimp General of London, and Samuel Derrick, a failed Irish poet and wastrel. As a successful pimp, Harris kept an ever-evolving list of available women and exercised control over them by a variety of nasty means (spreading word to potential clients that they were diseased, for example, was a good way to ruin them). Derrick was quite sure fame and success (not to mention wealth) were just around the corner for him as a poet and man of letters, but in the meantime, short on cash and long on creditors, he hit upon the idea of publishing Harris's list, embellished with witty details and bits of gossip. The book was an instant hit and was updated and republished at regular intervals for almost forty years (although Harrison and Derrick had less and less to do with it later on, and the decreasing quality and wit of the information provided fell accordingly). This glimpse of London's central pleasure district in the period--with theatres, taverns, and brothels packed in around the produce market and desperate women to fit every budget in plentiful supply--provides, as I suggested before, a healthy dose of anti-nostalgia. The lives of these disposable women, off whom Harris and Derrick profited, were generally pretty miserable. Harris and Derrick both ended pretty well, with Harris as a wealthy tavern owner living off the profits made on the backs of women and Derrick as Master of Ceremonies at Bath. The woman Rubenhold chooses as her chief representative of the female side of the trade, Charlotte Hayes, ended her days rather differently. She had been born into a brothel, initiated into the trade as a young girl (virgins brought in very high fees, and her virginity would have been recycled by her mother several times), was successful for some years as a beautiful, sought-after provider of sex to wealthy men, then became a brothel-keeper. She was ruthless in controlling the women who worked for her and made an awful lot of money, much of it spent by Dennis O'Kelly, the man she spent much of her later life with. Hayes (or Mrs Kelly, as she later called herself--names were very changeable things among such women) did as well as any woman in her circumstances could, but no amount of money or property could ever make respectable people forget where she came from. Men could roll in the gutter and come out smelling sweet (men will be men, you know), but a woman once spoiled, no matter the circumstances, could never be anything but a whore.
The real heroines of the book, though, are the prostitutes themselves, doing the best they could with the terrible cards they'd been dealt.
This is part of the List's description of Miss Young, of 6 Cumberland Court: "We mentioned her in the last list as tolerably handsome, but of a disposition mercenary, almost beyond example, her beauty is now vanished, but her avarice remains, and what is worse, she has very lately had the folly and wickedness to leave a certain hospital, before the cure of a certain distemper which she had was completed, and has thrown her contaminated carcase on the town again, for which we hold her inexcusable, and which was our only reason for repeating her name, that her company might be avoided, and that she might be held in the infamous light she so justly deserves for her wilful villainy" (1779).
And this is Hetty D-rkin, of Meard's Court: "A thin little girl with blue eyes, aquiline nose, and a very little mouth. She is the daughter of a reputable tradesman in Wapping, and was debauched by her father's porter. She has frequent fits of repentance, and has more than once been wavering at the threshold of the Magdalen House. However, a glass of punch or wine is sure to bring her back again. She is an agreeable companion, but having no passions, considers every man merely as a cull, and seldom scruples to pick his pocket, if she can do it conveniently" (1761).
Finally, here's Miss ------, of No. 44, Newman Street: "This petite belle has not yet attained her sixteenth year; and, to make amends for her deficiency of height, she is elegantly formed, nor does she lack beauty. Her sparkling eyes would warm an anchorite. Her hair is beautifully fair: and her liveliness in conversation renders her a most agreeable companion. Two guineas will bring you better acquainted with this charmer; nor will you have cause for disagreeable reflections from her acquaintance" (1793).