The Other Duchess

The White Swan may sound like a pure sot of establishment but anyone who would have walked into it in the late 18th and early 19th centuries would probably know that was not the case. It seems as though the tavern had a reputation as a seedy motel where one could conduct an illicit affair, away from prying eyes. The White Swan offered more services than just a rendezvous point, though. If you didn’t have a prearranged partner to meet up with, there were plenty of males mulling about on the second floor to entertain you...for a price.

While male prostitution isn’t so wholly unusual in this place and time, the names these men picked for themselves is. Like our modern-day strippers with names like “Sapphire,” the White Swan prostitutes went by names that their mothers obviously did not give them: Miss Selina, Harriet, and even Kitty Fisher (a nod to the original, perhaps) could be found loitering about the tavern looking for customers. But perhaps the most grandiose of these gay prostitutes was one man who must have been pretty confident in his abilities for he went by the name, the Duchess of Devonshire.

Perhaps the most delightful bit of this juicy gossip is that these colorful tavern workers only took this role by night. If you needed to find the Duchess of Devonshire before the sun set, you could find her (or him) at her day job as a blacksmith.

Prostitute Cooties

For many years prostitution and the English theater went together like peanut butter and jelly.  Actresses and whores were considered to be one and the same and prostitutes would line up in the theaters like our modern-day mollies line the boulevards.  However when celebrity skank*, Mary "Perdita" Robinson decided to get her own box seat at the theater it ruffled the feathers of a certain gentleman who decided to attack her publicly and anonymously through the Morning Post.  What an ungentleman-like manner. 

I know no rank of prostitution that can either lessen the crime or disgrace it; and, however profligate the age may be, I believe that the greatest libertine of our sex would revolt at the idea of handing a wife, sister, or daughter, in to a box where they were certain of being surrounded by public prostitutes. 

The managers owe it to the public, they owe it to themselves, to preserve the side-boxes for the modest and reputable part of the other sex; or at least, it is their duty to refuse them to actresses, swindlers, wantons in high keeping, who have the presumption to ask for them

Based on what we know of the London residents who patronized the theater, and box seats, I have a feeling if the managers enacted this request the playhouses would be quite empty!

*which was the general consensus by the public at the time due to her public affair with the Prince of Wales as well as having her name attached to numerous other affluent men.

Tart of the Week: Peg Plunkett

In 1727 Margaret Plunkett was born in County Westmeath, Ireland.  She would be destined to lead the hard-knock life that many women of the lower classes were forced to struggle for survival in.  However, Peg wasn't afraid to take down a few people in the process.  Her mother died when Peg was young and her father left his children in the care of the sadistic eldest brother who constantly beating Peg and her sisters with a whip.  The abuse was so bad Peg once had to cut the sleeves of her dress because of her swollen arms.  In further acts of cruelty her brother denied two suitors who asked Peg to marry them, forcing her to be kept prisoner in the household.  Peg could only take so much abuse and ran away to Dublin as an escape.

Once in Dublin, Peg quickly took up with a gentleman who promptly got her pregnant.  Peg, however, found the situation quite freeing because she managed to get a home out of it.  But when Peg tragically lost her child, the man and house followed suit.  When the next man that came into Peg's life offered her money for her company, Peg realized that this would be the new lifestyle she would take in order to remain out of the clutches of her abusive brother.  Peg fell in love with her social life in the bustling Georgian city, there was always someone to see or something to do with the endless stream of concerts and balls.  Of course all these things cost a pretty penny.

Peg was forced to give up the temptations of the city when she became the kept mistress of a Mr  Leeson.  She took his last name played wife while all the while rejecting his formal proposals of marriage.  The relationship dissolved when Mr Leeson realized Peg was screwing around on him, and she was kicked to the curb, only to be picked up by a Mr. Lawless whom Peg flung herself into a dramatic relationship with.  You know those couples who you can't stand because they are constantly suspicious and jealous of the attention the other receives from others?  That was the relationship Peg had with Mr Lawless.  The two would fly at each other every time he looked at a pretty lady or when a handsome gent winked at her.  One time when Peg caught him drinking champagne with some floozy she grabbed the decanter and was about to smash it into the tart's face had she not been stopped.  The two also got violent with each other until the relationship ultimately ended, leaving Peg heartbroken.

Peg herself was quite scrappy, and being a true bad-girl, never afraid of a fight.  When an actress/courtesan spread venomous gossip about her, Peg waited outside after the actress' play got out to just hurl insults at her.  When a famous violinist requested no women of the demi-monde (fallen women) be at his performance Peg purposely went to the next show and was seen being physically escorted out fighting all the way.  When the bouncer got a little too pushy in the process of getting her out, Peg ran to the authorities who arrested the celebrated musician.  Another time the street gang, the Mohawks broke into Peg's house and she fought them tooth and nail, unfortunately at the loss of her daughter and the child she was carrying.

Peg jumped back and forth between poverty and luxury.  Toward the end of her life she ran a brothel and when finding herself extremely broke, she wrote her memoirs in order to put money back in her pockets.  Despite the rough and tumble life, Peg managed to survive to the age of 70, dying in 1797.

The Magdalen Hospital

In the effort to better their society, the English instated many state-of-the-art improvements which showed an honest interest in helping society. On the coattails of the Foundling Hospital the Magdalen Hospital was founded in 1758 with the aim of 'curing' prostitutes.

Magdalen hospitals were not a new or English concept. These hospitals had been developed by Catholics in other countries hence being named after the famous reformed prostitute from the Bible. When the London Magdalen Hospital was founded it was created with the aim of giving young women a better life, knowing that prostitution was a last resort in a society with not many opportunities for women.

The establishment was run as more of a rehabilitation center. The penitent prostitutes entered into the hospital and were taught decorum and cleanliness and then given an education. Good behavior and improvement were rewarded with being moved to different wards and then being allowed more independence. Basically, the women were trained to make a living without having to whore themselves. The Magdalen Hospital was like a My Fair Lady factory: slob streetwalker goes in, civilized citizen walks out. There were even punishments for swearing - 6 hours confinement to your room or more with repeated offense. I have a feeling I would have spent a lot of solitary hours if I was a patient!

The hospital was deemed a success which helped in not having to scrounge for charitable contributions. In fact, society was so enamored with the enlightened idea of a penitent prostitute hospital was there was plenty of money pouring in. The chapel collections even drew in more money than the Foundling Hospital. I blame that on the spectacle. Why donate to orphan children when there are reformed whores singing hymns?

Thousands of wayward girls entered the hospital through the years. Soon, some of the patients were just girls who needed a head start and hadn't actually sold their body. Why not? The hospital trained you to start and honest living, out a roof over your head, and fed you.

Although we could never tell you if the hospital was a true success in its ability to rehabilitate, its heart was in the right place. It didn't punish prostitution but gave women a safer alternative to their original career path. Over the years the hospital expanded and changed. Its original location was by Blackfriars Bridge but it was moved to Streatham in 1866. By the 1930s the hospital was transformed into a school for 'juvie' girls. In 1966 what remained of the hospital closed for good with the original 18th century mission having long been forgotten. Although nothing remains of the site today you can still walk down the Magdalen Passage, an alleyway which lays on where the Magdalen Hospital foundation used to be.

Book Review: Fanny Hill

Disclaimer: The following review speaks openly on issues of a sexual nature in relationship to an 18th century erotica book. Those sensitive to this sort of discussion may choose to skip over this review.

Perhaps you recall a short while ago when I was deliberating over which edition of Fanny Hill to read. I ended up buying this edition with illustrations by Talia Felix and was not disappointed.

Fanny Hill or Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure by John Cleland, is the story of a young woman (teenager, really) who moves to the bustle of London and quickly is scooped up by a madame to become a prostitute. Her virginity is sold and Fanny is very near being raped if it weren't for the client's impotence. Fanny is safe for the time being until a new danger appears in the form of falling in love with one of the young men visiting the brothel. They run away together where she does indeed loose her virginity and becomes head over heels in love with him. Unfortunately the two young lovers are separated and Fanny is forced into a life of a kept mistress and later, prostitute. Although she seems to enjoy her profession, her mind always wanders back to her lost love.

Let me first be clear about this book. It is smut. It was written with the intention to titillate and therefore has very little plot yet a large amount of detail when it comes to talking about sex. If you are looking for great literature of the 18th century, you won't find it in Fanny Hill, you will find, however, what tickles a 18th century gentleman's fancy. That in itself is interesting.

What one part of me (the sarcastic, bitter, feminist side) was thinking was, Well, not much has evolved in men's tastes. Penises had to be described in great detail, and size was a big topic. But that is just a detail I have come to expect when it comes to males and topics of sex. One of the first sexual scenes was girl-on-girl, so once again I was thinking about how men are creatures of routine and their tastes haven't evolved much in 200 years, and so on and so forth. But then there was something that I did notice which I found interesting: there was no oral sex. Oral sex was considered to be something the French favored throughout the centuries, and in page after page of the sexual scenes in Fanny Hill, its absence was obvious. It seemed as though this article of foreplay wasn't even a thought, or perhaps it just wasn't attractive to bedroom frolickers in 18th century England, or perhaps that was just Cleland's taste. Another noticeable difference was in the attention to pubic hair Cleland included in his details. The same things we, in the modern age, take great care to hide away, was a real turn-on for both men and women, if we are to believe what Cleland has to say!

As for the edition itself, I was pleased with my selection. I knew I wanted an illustrated version since I'm a visual person [feel free to begin snickering and making comments in context to the book]. I enjoyed Felix's illustrations which were reminiscent of Aubrey Beardsley's style and added some fun to a text which can get redundant. Yes, redundant; you might find yourself skipping through the sex scenes once you get halfway through the book. But despite the little plot and large amount of redundant sex scenes I still found myself enjoying Fanny Hill.

That's what she said.

Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure

While perusing Amazon for a copy of Fanny Hill, I was overwhelmed by the many editions of this book. I am not sure why I should be so shocked, the brazen novel was published in 1749, allowing for many versions to be released over the centuries. But what is it about this book where we are still interesting in reading it here in the 21st century? Was it great literature? Nope, not really. It was smut, written by John Cleland in an attempt to escape debtor's prison.

Originally published as Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure, the novel would come to be known by the name of its main character which sounds strangely enough like a naughty lady-bit. Fanny is an orphan teenager who moves to London and takes lodgings with a madam who wastes no time transforming the young girl into a prostitute. But instead of this being the same moralistic story as Hogarth's Harlot's Progress, Fanny enjoy her various sexual exploits which, like our modern pornos, are more plentiful than the plot line is complicated. Yes, Cleland was not out to open the eyes of the public to the plights of poor women; he was in the entertainment business.

John Cleland was an educated individual who worked for the Bombay company. It was in India that he allegedly began penning the manuscripts which would become, Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure. The tale was an erotic novel and Cleland probably wrote it only because he knew: sex sells, and he needed some cash. The book was published in two volumes and it wasn't until a year after its publication that word got around to the wrong ears about the intimate details it divulged. Censorship laws may have been repelled, but for whatever reason Cleland's book didn't fit into this category and he was put on trial for obscenity. He saved himself by laying no claim to the book, stating he just happened upon the manuscript and embellished it. That didn't stop it from being published under the title Fanny Hill with some edits to the most scandalous parts. Rumor has it, the book was contained even more scandalous scenes that are now lost to us. For the next couple of centuries the book would be sold on the black market and banned from just about everywhere. The book wasn't even published in the United States until the 1970s!

Now, the problem is quite opposite. There are so many editions of the book, I can't even decide which to choose! I'm torn between these two (below), since they're both from indie publishers. I'm leaning toward the second one but worried it's from too late an edition. Oh dilemmas.

Check out some of the covers from some of the many editions. I was surprised by the amount with 19th century paintings and there are a plethora of different and creative covers which I found quite interesting.

The Rake's Progress, Part 3: The Tavern Scene

It's been a while since we last saw our rambunctious rake, but he is back and up to some antics. Much of this painting is self-explanatory. The other title for it is The Orgy. Good ol' Tom is seen here canoodling with some lovely ladies of the night. These prostitutes are quite the entertainers, as you can see they have gotten Tom quite intoxicated. While Tom is in the aftermath of ecstasy, the syphilis-covered ladies take advantage. One of the prostitutes slips her hand down Tom's shirt and swipes his pocket-watch. Well, hopefully his father's will-money can cover that loss just as it has covered the bill for the evening.

But once we get past Tom's debauchery, we can start to disect the bad behaviour of the ladies with whom he keeps company. They are a bad set. First of all, we have no idea if the foremost whore is dressing or undressing; either option is not appropriate, even in a Roman-style tavern. One lady feels she has been miffed for attention and is therefore lighting fire to a map on the wall in order to gain some. Two of the ladies are having a spat and one (quite literally) spits her drink into the other's face. Perhaps she is not the whore to insult because she is holding a knife. These ladies do not keep a clean house either. Look at what a mess they made! I hope that when Tom finally decides to settle down, it with someone better behaved than this brand of woman!

The Rake's Progress Part 1
The Rake's Progress Part 2
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A Harlot's Progress: Plate 6

I wish I could say that our journey with Moll ends happily, but unfortunately I can't. This is a Hogarth series after all! We now find Moll at her own wake which anyone would be proud to call their own. Look, there's a nice crowd, a parson, a decent casket...which is being used as a bar. At second glace, the parson's hand seems to have disappeared under the skirt of the prostitute next to him. This is an awful wake! It appears as if no one even cares about our heroine's passing. All the other mourners/prostitutes are distracted at their co-worker's wake. One bar-tends, two gossip, another is checking her hair in the mirror while one more steals the undertaker's handkerchief. One prostitute is oblivious to Moll's dead body in front of her as she shows another mourner her injured pinky.

Even Moll's little son seems to not care about his own mother's passing. Whether this is because of her mothering skills or childhood ignorance, we can only guess. He sits under Moll's coffin and plays in front of the rosemary that is traditionally brought to funerals.

There does seem to be one person generally sad about Moll's passing and that is her madam who weeps by a bottle of booze. Maybe it's the booze talking? Or maybe, just maybe, someone does feel the loss of this gentle soul. Considering that this is a procuress we are speaking of, she is likely just mourning one less income to go into her pocket. If so, that means no one actually misses poor Moll who died at the age of 23 in 1731.

This may seem like a harsh satire that Hogarth presents us with but there is some truth in his assertion. Although the path to prostitution may have been a quick fix to poverty, the profession contained many dangers and sadness. Successful and celebrated prostitutes such Kitty Fisher existed, but were still rare. Today still, many young women are faced with the same options as Moll Hackabout and choose the same lifestyle. Like the fictional Moll they fall victim to substance abuse, sexually-transmitted disease, imprisonment, and poverty; not to mention many other awful things. Therefore, Hogarth's humourous satire also contains a frightening warning that should still be heeded to this day, as poor young girls are still forced into this dangerous way of life.


A Harlot's Progress Plate 1
A Harlot's Progress Plate 2
A Harlot's Progress Plate 3
A Harlot's Progress Plate 4
A Harlot's Progress Plate 5

A Harlot's Progress: Plate 3

It would appear that things have gone quite array for our naughty heroine, Moll since we last saw her. Her fabulous pad as been reduced to a barely-tolerable hovel. No longer do fine paintings grace the walls, now all Moll can afford is prints of Macheath and William Sacheverell that any average person could buy off the streets. Moll no longer has the security of being a kept woman, she is a common street prostitute; not the most glamourous of jobs but it puts gin on the table. She has a cat for company who does a very good impression of the compromising position Moll commonly finds herself in by nightfall. Look, she can still afford a maid...a maid with syphilis but a maid just the same! Actually, come to think of it, Moll doesn't look so good either. She has sores festering on her once-virginal face. Judging by the two medicine bottles on her sill; Moll shares the same venereal disease as her grumpy maid. But luckily, alcohol keeps one merry. Moll happily shows the maid the watch she nicked from last night. Oh but Moll, it appears your time has run out!

The magistrat Sir John Gonson has entered her chambers in order to arrest our Covent Garden beauty but is quickly distracted by the witches' hat and broom on the wall. Is our fair one tempering with the occault? Or even more disgusting for the magistrate to envision: perhaps she does a bit of role-playing with her clients? *Shudders* Either way, this doesn't look too good for Moll. Will her sharp wit be able to get her out of this scrap?


A Harlot's Progress: Plate 1
A Harlot's Progress: Plate 2
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A Harlot's Progress: Plate 2

Oh Moll! What are you up to now? It seems as though our docile seamstress from the last plate has done quite well for herself in the new career path that Mother Needham picked out for her. Moll is a high-class tart; a kept woman. This has secured her a comfortable living arrangement, a pet monkey, a fashionable West Indian servant boy, and considerable pocket money. She seems to be enjoying her hedonistic life as mistress to a Jewish merchant (Hogarth obviously came from a time predating political correctness).

After spending a rambunctious night at the masquerade (as indicated from the mask on the vanity) Moll seems to have brought home a man who isn't paying her rent. When the man who is paying it shows up unexpectantly for an early breakfast with his mistress Moll is put in a tight spot. In order to get her boytoy out undiscovered Moll picks a fight with her merchant which ends with her knocking down the tea table. Not the classiest move, but it gets her lover out undetectected.

Evidence of Moll's downfall to debauchery are all around. The broken china of the tea set symbolizes Moll's broken honor. Her pet monkey runs away with her headdress, showing the chaos and drama of her life. It should also be noted that traditionally, in northern art, monkeys have been used as a symbol of evil or Satan.

It would appear by Moll's casual expression (or drugged?) that she is way too comfortable in the deceit of her merchant. The expression on his face clearly mark's astonishment over her behaviour. I would be a little more careful if I were you Moll. You may have gotten out of this scrap, but I wouldn't be so optimistic with any others.


A Harlot's Progress: Plate 1
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Tart of the Week: Sally Salisbury

For this week's tart, let's travel to the very beginning of 18th century London. The daughter of a bricklayer, Sarah Pridden was born around 1692. Her original plans were to go into the dressmaking business. She was a seamstress' apprentice at the age of nine but ran away when she lost some pricey lace. After trying a few odd jobs around St. Giles Sarah eventually was given the career opportunity she couldn't resist: being the mistress to Francis Charteris. Luckily the creep (and convicted rapist) didn't keep her around too long. He got sick of her by the time she reached the ripe old age of 14 so Sally, as she was probably known by this point, thought she may as well just become a streetwalker.

The wanton life seemed to work out for Sally. She became a brothel resident, even staying in the fancy smancy bordello of Mother Needham. She adopted the last name of Salisbury because it was one of her clients' names and she thought it sounded cool. It was probably a good career move too because she soon became one of the most popular prostitutes in all of Covent Garden! Even King George II was rumoured to have enjoyed her company. As a successful prostitute the viviacious and fiery Sally lived a typical hedonistic 18th century life. This landed her into prison a few times for short stays, usually for debt and minor crimes. One time she even got out of a prison stay because the judge had a huge crush on her.

But Sally got a little carried away one night in 1723. John Finch, second son of the Duchess of Winchelsea, had bought some tickets to the opera and had given them to Sally's sister and not to Sally. Well, it must have been a very good opera because Sally was pissed off that John had neglected her. An argument broke out between the two at Three Tuns Tavern and Sally, blinded by her anger, stabbed John in the heart! Ever the gentleman, John responded, "Madam, you have wounded me." Apparently, Sally wasn't aware of this and immediately began apologizing for trying to kill John. He was fine, by the way. John forgave her but the law didn't. She was sentenced to a year in prison and had to pay £100 fine. The sentence would have been more severe but was brought down due to Finch's forgiveness of her. Of course the trial was a huge social-event where every person of fashion appeared. When she was taken to Newgate to serve her sentence many lavish gifts and visitors followed, to make her more comfortable. There is no evidence as to whether she made these visitors more comfortable when they visited, wink wink.

Despite these prison luxuries Sally never made it out of Newgate. After serving nine months of her year sentence Sally succumbed to syphilis and died. It's too bad too; imagine what other mischief she could have entertained us with!

A Harlot's Progress: Plate 1

Since Hogarth has already educated us on the dangers of a fashionable marriage, it is time for us to, once again, seek his insight on other issues of the age. I had a hard time deciding which series to do next: A Rake's Progress, or A Harlot's Progress. Then, my dear friend Carolyn told me, "Ladies first!" and I realized she was absolutely right! So take heed, my impressionable young lady-gossips, here is a story to think of when trouble may lead you astray.

Here we have the mild-mannered Moll Hackabout, who is beginning the first day of the rest of her life. She has moved out of her parents' home and is looking to make her start in the big city; in this case: Cheapside. She is dropped off by the wagon full of other young ladies trying to make an honest pound in London. First impressions tell us that Moll is young, pretty, neatly dressed, and looking for a job as a seamstress (as judged by the scissors and pincushion on her arm). But is this overdressed woman in this backstreet really a seamstress? And if she is a seamstress, why is she poking a proding young Moll as if she were a piece of meat? Indeed, this woman is actually a procuress, "Mother" Needham who was such a legandary "abbess" that when she was later sentenced to stand in a pillory, the crowds were so large that a boy was crushed to death. Rumour has it, Mother Needham was too. Another famous deviant stands behind the two women. This is the rake and rapist, Francis Charteris. Hogarth had no sympathy for characters like him. He comes out of, what we can assume to be, a brothel; either a satisfied customer or a partner in Mother Needham's dark business deal. Charteris also appears to be, ahem, excited about the prospective new employee.

While poor Moll's downfall seems to be unfolding before everyone's eyes in these dank streets, a priest passes on his horse. He is too interested in finding his way than saving the girl's innocence. To further insist on his blatant disregard for Moll, his horse is shown to knock down a teetering stack of pots. This is a reference that the French artist, Greuze would commonly use to show loss of innocence or virginity among young girls. There is no doubt that is Hogarth's intention too. Another important Hogarthian symbol (that we should always be keeping an eye out for) is the dead goose in the corner. This hints to Moll's gullibility. Poor Moll, she has no idea what she is about to get into.

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