In an earlier post, I described the scene at Pfaff’s, the New York hang-out that attracted self-styled Bohemians in the late 1850s and early 1860s. Unlike most establishments at the time, women came unchaperoned, and a range of free-spirited women did just that. Many, as I wrote, were actresses. These actresses—members of a semi-scandalous profession by “respectable” society—were drawn by Pfaff’s ambiance for a bright moment in time. Most died young, poor, alone, or all three.

As for the writers, none achieved lasting fame equivalent to the most famous man of the gathering, Walt Whitman. A few were reporters; others, poets or novelists.

Identification and much of the information about comes from the website Vault at Pfaff’s, maintained at Lehigh University. I tried to find at least a short excerpt written by each woman.

Anna Ballard, born in 1828, was a friend of Ada Clare, considered one of Pfaff’s leading lights. She worked for the first NYC penny press newspaper; according to The Story of the Sun, 1833-1918, she “wrote, among other things, the news stories that bobbed up in the surrogates’ court [related to wills and probate].” Her real passion became the movement/religion/philosophy called Theosophy; in the 1870s, she helped salvage its main proponent, Madame Helena Blavatsky. Ballard wrote,

My acquaintanceship with Mme. Blavatsky dates back [to] July 1873, at New York, not more than a week after she landed. I was then a reporter on the staff of the New York Sun, and had been detailed to write an article upon a Russian subject. In the course of my search after facts, the arrival of this Russian lady was reported to me by a friend, and I called upon her, thus beginning an acquaintance that lasted several years.

Ballard went on to India as an adherent of Theosophy and lived until the age of 95.

Juliette Beach, born in 1829, lived in Orleans, NY, so she and her husband Calvin were occasional Pfaffians. Calvin published the local newspaper, which Juliette continued after his death. According to the Walt Whitman Archive, Whitman sent Juliette a copy of Leaves of Grass for her to review. Instead, Calvin read it and trashed it in the Saturday Press under Juliette’s initials. She was furious and the Press ran a second review, this time written by Juliette, that praised it, and she and Whitman continued to correspond. Her own poetry was a bit more conformist, such as this excerpt of a poem published on June 18, 1859:

The late March afternoon is weird and gray/The crazy wind is monotone most dreary/Whispers its half-told tale/and dies away/As if aweary…

Juliette ran the Orleans Republican newspaper after Calvin died, rare for a woman now and certainly then.

Ada Clare, born in 1838, was the one of the leading lights at Pfaff’s, called (as written in my other post), the Queen of the Long Table. In addition to acting, she also wrote a novel called Only a Woman’s Heart, published in 1866. An excerpt:

Laura would have been terrified at the idea of being drawn into a mutual attachment with a common-place insignificant being—but the prospect of enjoying the stormy delights of a broken heart quite raised her spirits to enthusiasm.

Clare herself was not drawn into such an attachment and followed her lover to Paris, where she had a son out of wedlock.

Jennie Danforth, “a writer for the weekly journals” according to an account published in 1869, and “a wild impulsive Western woman” in another account, was romantically involved with fellow Pfaffian Fitz-James O’Brien. I could only find a description of her, written in 1903 in a book called New York: Old and New:

Jenny Danforth was also [along with Ada Clare} at witty and beautiful woman, the estranged wife, it was said, of a naval officer of high rank, but whose name was not Danforth. A clever writer, she lived for a few years a precarious but not wholly unhappy life, and then falling into misfortune and poverty, finally vanished without her old friends knowing precisely when or how it happened.

Sigh.

Margaret Eytinge, born in 1832, began writing at stories at age 15 under the name Allie Vernon. She also used the pen names Madge Elliot and Bell Thorne. She married, had two children, and divorced when she was in her 20s but kept writing and publishing, mostly children’s stories and poems. She had a second marriage to illustrator Solomon Eytinge. A cousin by marriage, Rose, and daughter Pearl were both actresses, so a very artistic family all around. When I looked for works by her, I decided to include the (very grown-up) Author’s Note and cover from her collection The Ball of the Vegetables and Other Stories:

The author of the stories in prose and verse comprised in this volume desires to express her thanks to the publishers of Harper’s Young People, St Nicholas, Wide Awake, The Independent, Detroit Free Press, Ehrich’s Quarterly, Baldwin’s Monthly and other periodicals, for their kindness in giving her permission to collect into a volume the contributions which originally appeared in their pages. She trusts that the favor with which they have been received singly by the little readers of America will be extended to the new and beautiful form in which they now appear.

Her poetry remains in circulation, even if it’s pretty saccharine.

Getty Gay may have been among the youngest among the Pfaffians, since her birthdate in believed to be 1840. She was described with a “lithe and petite figure and sweetly sad face.” She published several pieces in the Saturday Press, including the “Royal Bohemian Supper” on December 31, 1859, giving her friends slightly changed names and lots of alcohol:

The champagne baskets and bottles now growing empty, and the Bohemians full, each member of the company gave way to his wildest inspiration. The Baron challenged the Troubadour to a singing bout….Lady Gay tried to talk sentiment; the Grand Turk to like; the Countess to repeat her own poetry and relate her early inducements….

She was also among the first and youngest to die—of consumption, in 1860, not much older than 20.

It was Nathaniel Hawthorne—most definitely not a Pfaffian—who coined the uncomplimentary term “scribbling women” for the (excuse the terms) authoresses and poetesses of the mid-19th century. While the Pfaffian women were not a commercial threat to him, he was apparently jealous that many of them had.