A terrific piece in History Today discusses the phenomenon of the "whore memoir," a popular genre of the 18th and early 19th centuries. Writes Julie Peakman,

Real-life prostitutes such as Sally Salisbury, Fanny Murray and Kitty Fisher became the subject of a genre of memoirs now known as Whore Biographies in books such as The Effigies, Parentage, Education, Life, Merry-Pranks and Conversation of the celebrated Mrs Sally Salisbury (1723), Memoirs of the celebrated Miss Fanny M*****(1759) and The uncommon Adventures of Miss Kitty F*****r (1759). Their full names in the titles were tantalisingly omitted, although everyone would have recognised who they were. Gossip around these women and their lovers filled the taverns. Broadsheets and pamphlets rec orded their activities. Songs and poems were written about them and cartoons depicted them.

Famous courtesans - some of them actresses - were among the most famous celebrities of their day, revered by the common people and notorious amongst the nobles who served as their protectors - and their wives. I'm no historian, but the appeal seems obvious: in addition to the lurid taint of sex and scandal the women carried, theirs were tales of social mobility in an era where most people didn't even dream of it, and accounts of their humble origins and fine carriages must have proved irresistible to contemporary readers. One could even read about a fallen woman's life on a moral pretext: an account of Sally Salisbury stabbing her noble protector with a bread knife might have served, ostensibly, as a cautionary tale, but also served to make the courtesan a popular heroine.

The genre, as Peakman tells it, was born with male writers: hacks trying to make a buck with a series of generic, lurid "biographies." Seeing a chance to set the record straight - or at least on their own terms - many of the women decided to cash in with memoirs, and the "blaming and shaming" that ensued is what really made them must-reads. In addition to establishing themselves as good-hearted and merely prey to human frailty, many of these memoirs served as a means of publicly shaming the notable men who'd seduced or cheated them - and slandering rival courtesans. This was surely a level of power most women could never dream of - even those courtesans who'd managed to achieve a level of autonomy and financial independence.

But in addition to the thinly-disguised bold-faces, respectable readers also received a dose of reality. As the women told it, they were not morally reprehensible, but at the mercy of an unforgiving world and in the power of men: many of them related that their careers started as a result of rapes or abandonment that left them with no options; many of the memoirs featured beatings and abuse. As Peg Plunkett put it in her memoir,

The ill usage of Lawless, had changed me to what I never was before. In short, I was become a compleat Coquet. I entertained every one who fluttered about me, I received every present that was offered, accepted every entertainment that was made for me; gave them all the hopes, yet yielded to none. I was disgusted with the man of my heart, therefore gave my heart to none. I looked upon all men as my lawful prey, and wished to punish the crimes of one on the whole sex.

While it would be hard to argue that this genre did a lot to elevate the social dialogue, it's also true that - in combination with a new wave of free-thinking and the works like Mary Wollstonecraft's, the "whore memoir" coincided with a consideration of women as disenfranchised and ill-used rather than morally or intellectually inferior. If they were jaded, these stories seemed to say, it was the fault of men - surely a charge that many less-obviously beholden members of their sex must have silently echoed. Indeed, it's pretty clear that the "hooker with a heart of gold" trope can be traced directly to these memoirs. It's always dangerous to romanticize courtesans, as much today as then - viewing them as liberated mistresses of their own destinies, influencing powerful men and bucking the codes of the time. At the end of the day, these memoirs say, they were still chattel. But by living a life of open "vice," they also had the ability to exploit it openly - and this genre is a marvel of savvy.

Blaming And Shaming In Whores' Memoirs [History Today]

"Melissa Beech" is a college student from a privileged background. "I was blessed to have been raised with class, sent to the best schools, and taught to be well read, well spoken and well traveled." Yet the world of higher learning proves a rude awakening!

But when I got to college, I spent the first two years straining for financial independence. I tried working, but in retail, surrounded by temptation all day, I spent more than I made. Waiting tables was exhausting. I went on several job interviews, but all of the internships were unpaid. As my years in college wore on it was evident that the job market was sliding into decline. When the economic climate grew worse, my friends panicked that their resumes and high GPAs wouldn’t be enough to give them a leg up on the competition, and my goal became getting my foot in the door before everyone else.

What's a girl to do? She goes on an interview and the guy - "in his early thirties, single and successful" -offers her a job as his mistress instead. Turns out the dude's in this businesslike world of mistresses and sugar-daddies where, as in 18th century London, these arrangements are understood.

There’s even a social networking website that connects sugar daddies and their beneficiaries. This man told me about it: SeekingArrangement.com. He had been referred to it by a close friend who was a hedge fund manager. At his urging, I logged onto the site and looked at his profile. It didn’t have a picture, for privacy reasons. But it did contain information: his marital status (single), the industry he worked in (media and communications), and—a key element—his salary (seven figures). I was encouraged by the fact that the website vets its clients and offers only Certified Sugar Daddies, whose tax returns have been carefully examined so you know that you’re getting. I also learned that he was attracted to bright, smart women—he wasn’t in the market for the dumb bombshell. His profile said he wanted more of “a Jackie Kennedy than a Marilyn Monroe.” I fit the type.

Basically, she'll be his girlfriend, and he'll support her. She asks that they wait to get to know each other before sleeping together; he accedes.

As for the allowance, he doesn’t just cut me a check. He simply ensures that I need never worry about expenses. I rent a $1,600 apartment in the city, for which he pays the rent in full. I carry an AmEx Black card in both our names, and use it for things like shopping, spa trips, manicures, and tanning; the bill goes to him. And the company car I drive costs him around $700 a month for the lease and the insurance. I’ve even managed to build up a little nest egg over the past year – at his insistence – putting away around $12,000. All in all, he probably spends in the ballpark of $5,000 a month on my lifestyle.

It seems hard to believe that this scenario could actually inspire moral outrage, even from those who consider it to be prostitution: neither party is married, and the arrangement is, as she says, mutually beneficial. (And if she and her benefactor are suffering from the now-official recession — as many mistresses apparently are — she gives no indication.) More than anything, it seems odd and unsatisfying — a bloodless compromise between a relationship and a business transaction. But whatever one thinks about her choices, her justifications ring false to any young woman who's been strapped for cash in college - which is to say, most of us. Retail tempted her? Waitressing exhausted her? Please. These easy rationales lose her a lot of sympathy pretty quickly. And her defensive claims that although "he didn’t hire me for the internship position, but because of him I have had several internships at well-known PR companies, and have plenty of networking opportunities, shoring up my future prospects for when I graduate this spring" don't win much sympathy, either. If this was all some plan to bolster her resume, it seems like there are more direct ways - and this can't bring much comfort to the qualified young women who failed to obtain the same jobs because, while they may have been restrained enough to work a retail job, they didn't have the prescience to nab a sugar daddy. If she wants to be some emotionally disconnected rich guy's mistress, it's her prerogative - it's not like couples haven't been doing this for centuries - but attempting to justify it on professional grounds is an insult to the rest of us.

My Sugar Daddy [Daily Beast]

Earlier: Girly Golddiggers Are Reeling From The Recession

"Les Insoumises" were a very particular brand of courtesan who managed to exist in a specific window of time before laws cracked down, "their trade became rigidly codified" and their existence became a shameful open secret. It's from this period that our idea of the classic 19th century courtesan springs, what Janet Flanner called "a venal, public pretty woman of enormous social influence who was customarily kept by a kind of cartel - three millionaires or two dukes - or by one royalty." In Gigi the old women reminisce about this golden age of the mistress. Famous courtesans like Liane de Pougy or Anna Deslions were as well-known as any celebrity, and afforded a certain respect.

However, it's all too easy to romanticize these women. From La Traviata to Camille we are inundated with images of exquisitely manicured, wonderfully educated and refined creatures who bend men to their wills and exist as sexy eminences grises. While, yes, they did seize a measure of power for themselves in a men's world, and managed to have more autonomy than the average woman — certainly better lives than the average prostitute — they were still very much at the mercy of their powerful protectors. What's more, even during their golden age Les Insoumises were vulnerable, due to their visibility: "Le livre des courtisanes: archives secrètes de la police des moeurs [1861-1876]," by Gabrille Houre provides a comprehensive dossier of the exhaustive tabs agents and informers kept on anyone deemed Une Insoumise. And then too, it was a term people came to throw around loosely as a pejorative, tarring any reasonably independent with the backhanded insult of high-class courtesan; even respected actress Sarah Bernhardt rated a police file in the "Insoumises" dossier, a useful blackmail tool.

It is a fine line, it seems, between respecting the gumption and courage of women in a very different time, and romanticizing what was, at the end of the day, still an unenviable existence. It does seem like the flippant use of the term "courtesan" — as in the case of "international escorts" like Jet Set Lara or Kathleen Glyde— can serve to obscure the realities of a profession that should not be glamorized and should certainly not be linked to some grand historical tradition, given how times have changed. While Les Insoumises were a fascinating subculture, and certainly notable case of historical lemonade-making, it's important to look beyond the glamor — for their sakes, M. Lacroix, as well as our own.

Les Insoumises, France's Rebellious Female Courtesans [IHT]