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Browsing named entities in a specific section of James Parton, Horace Greeley, T. W. Higginson, J. S. C. Abbott, E. M. Hoppin, William Winter, Theodore Tilton, Fanny Fern, Grace Greenwood, Mrs. E. C. Stanton, Women of the age; being natives of the lives and deeds of the most prominent women of the present gentlemen. Search the whole document.

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Plato (search for this): chapter 4
uce the stipulated article, on time! Think, my reader, what this fact proves! what habits of industry, what system, what thoughtfulness, what business integrity, what super-woman punctuality, and O Minerva — Hygeia! what health! Aspasia was, Plato says, the preceptress of Socrates; she formed the rhetoric of Pericles, and was said to have composed some of his finest orations; but she never furnished an article every week for the Ledger for fourteen years. Hypatia taught mathematics and the Philosophy of Plato, in the great school of Alexandria, through most learned and eloquent discourses; but she never furnished an article for the Ledger every week for fourteen years. Elena Lucrezia Comoso Piscopia,--eminently a woman of letters,--manfully mastered the Greek, Latin, Arabic, Hebrew, Spanish, and French; wrote astronomical and mathematical dissertations, andreceived a doctor's degree from the University of Padua; Laura Bassi, Novella d'andrea, and Matelda Tambroni were hono
Marsh (search for this): chapter 4
gna; but as far as I have been able to ascertain, by the most careful researches, not one of these learned ladies ever furnished an article for the Ledger every week for fourteen years., Corinna, for her improvisations, was crowned at the Capitol in Rome with the sacred laurel of Petrarch and Tasso; but she never furnished an article every week for the Ledger for fourteen years. Miss Burney, Miss Porter, Mrs. Radcliffe, Miss Austin, Miss Baillie, Miss Mitford, Miss Landon, Mrs. Hemans, Mrs. Marsh, Mrs. Gaskell, and the Brontes did themselves and their sex great honor by their literary labors; but not one of them ever furnished an article for the Ledger every week for fourteen years. Neither Mrs. Lewes nor Mrs. Stowe could do it, George Sand wouldn't do it, and Heaven forbid that Miss Braddon should do it! Why, to the present writer, who is given to undertaking a good deal more than she can ever accomplish; who is always surprised by publication-day; who postpones every literary
Dexter (search for this): chapter 4
instinctive receliiou against regulations and resolutions, even of your own making, ever interfere with your writing for the Ledger ? Doubtless you have been tempted, in times of hurry, or languor, in journeyings and dog-day heats, to break your agreement; but an honest fealty to a generous publisher has hitherto constrained you to stand by; and we like you for it. Other publishers may be bon, but he is Bonner. So you do not demean yourself by following the triumphal chariot of his fortunes (Dexter's trotting wagon) like Zenobia in chains, -since the chains are of gold. As a writer of brief essays and slight sketches, Fanny Fern excels. She seems always to have plenty of small change in the way of thoughts and themes. She knows well how to begin without verbiage, and to end without abruptness. She starts her game without much beating about the bush. She seems to measure accurately the subject and the occasion, and wastes no words,--or, as poor Artemus Ward used to say, never slo
Banner (search for this): chapter 4
Mr. Parton, I have a good mind to send all the rest of the set flying out of the window His less impetuous hand-stayed me. I assure you it was no virtue of mine. My blood is quick and warm. This frank account spoils an excellent story, and shows us how meanness and injustice again went unpunished, after the manner of this miserable, mismanaged world, which it will take many a Fanny Fern and much crockery-smashing to set right. Fourteen years ago Fanny Fern made an engagement with Mr. Banner, of the New York Ledger, to furnish an article every week for his journal,--that giant among literary weeklies, but by no means a weakly giant, of the Pickleson order, with a defective circulation, nor even of the style of the seven league-booter, and freebooter of fairy lore; but rather of the type of the Arabian genii, who were anywhere and everywhere at once. Fourteen years ago, Fanny Fern made an engagement with Mr. Bonner, to furnish an article every week for the Ledger, and thereb
Charles Dickens (search for this): chapter 4
felt that Life is too short for such things as these, as poor Douglas Jerrold said, when extending his hand to a friend from whom he had been for some time separated by a misunderstanding,--an estrangement for which, said that noble friend, Charles Dickens, with generous tenderness, I was the one to blame. In 1851 Fanny Fern was born into literary life. Aessay was penned by the widowed mother, on whose heart lay a great burden of loving care. That care .was her inspiration, her desperate ho. So an essay was penned,--a little essay it was, I believe, measured by paragraphs and lines, but it was in reality big with the fate of Fanny and her girls. It was a venture quite as important to its author as was the first Boz sketch to Charles Dickens, or as was Jane Eyre to Charlotte Bronte. After a patient trial and many rebuffs, she found, in a great city, an editor enterprising, or charitable, enough, to publish this essay, and to pay for it,--for he was a just man, who held that ver
Joanna Baillie (search for this): chapter 4
d filled professors' chairs in the University of Bologna; but as far as I have been able to ascertain, by the most careful researches, not one of these learned ladies ever furnished an article for the Ledger every week for fourteen years., Corinna, for her improvisations, was crowned at the Capitol in Rome with the sacred laurel of Petrarch and Tasso; but she never furnished an article every week for the Ledger for fourteen years. Miss Burney, Miss Porter, Mrs. Radcliffe, Miss Austin, Miss Baillie, Miss Mitford, Miss Landon, Mrs. Hemans, Mrs. Marsh, Mrs. Gaskell, and the Brontes did themselves and their sex great honor by their literary labors; but not one of them ever furnished an article for the Ledger every week for fourteen years. Neither Mrs. Lewes nor Mrs. Stowe could do it, George Sand wouldn't do it, and Heaven forbid that Miss Braddon should do it! Why, to the present writer, who is given to undertaking a good deal more than she can ever accomplish; who is always surpri
Henry Taylor (search for this): chapter 4
she has rebukes that scathe like flame, and scorn that bites like frost. With a healthy reverence for all truly devout souls, all earnest, humble, practical Christians,--for all things essentially pure and venerable,--Fanny Fern has an almost fierce hatred of cant, of empty pomp and formalism, assuming the name of religion. She valiantly takes sides with God's poor against the most powerful and refined pharisaism. She would evidently rather sit down to worship with the old salts, in Father Taylor's Seaman's Chapel, than in the most gorgeously upholstered pew, under the most resplendent stained windows, in the highest high church on Fifth Avenue. Not that she is wanting in a poet's sensuous delight in bright colors, rich textures, beautiful, refined faces, grand music and noble church-architecture, but that in the lives of the poor, colorless, homely, ungraceful, almost blindly aspiring and devout, there is something that moves her heart more tenderly and yet more solemnly. In th
Radcliffe (search for this): chapter 4
ere honored with degrees, and filled professors' chairs in the University of Bologna; but as far as I have been able to ascertain, by the most careful researches, not one of these learned ladies ever furnished an article for the Ledger every week for fourteen years., Corinna, for her improvisations, was crowned at the Capitol in Rome with the sacred laurel of Petrarch and Tasso; but she never furnished an article every week for the Ledger for fourteen years. Miss Burney, Miss Porter, Mrs. Radcliffe, Miss Austin, Miss Baillie, Miss Mitford, Miss Landon, Mrs. Hemans, Mrs. Marsh, Mrs. Gaskell, and the Brontes did themselves and their sex great honor by their literary labors; but not one of them ever furnished an article for the Ledger every week for fourteen years. Neither Mrs. Lewes nor Mrs. Stowe could do it, George Sand wouldn't do it, and Heaven forbid that Miss Braddon should do it! Why, to the present writer, who is given to undertaking a good deal more than she can ever acco
Sara Clarke (search for this): chapter 4
ving a head for figures, I am almost sure to make some mistake if I meddle with them. Moreover, these American Ferns, fresh and odorous with the freedom and spirit of the New World, took quick root in England, and spread and flourished like the American rhododendron. The mother country took fir British home consumption forty-eight thousand copies, and much good did they do our little cousins, I doubt not. In 1851 Ruth Hall (I had almost said Ruth-less Hall) was published. In 1857 Rose Clarke, a kindlier book. These are, I believe, the only novels of Fanny Fern. They were eagerly read, much commented upon, and had, like the Leaves, a large sale. They were translated into French and German. In 1856 Fanny Fern was married to Mr. James Parton, of New York; a man of brilliant, but eminently practical, ability as a writer. It was a marriage that seemed to the world to promise, if not happiness of the most romantic type, much hearty good fellowship, with mutual aid and comfort.
Pegasus (search for this): chapter 4
writer, who is given to undertaking a good deal more than she can ever accomplish; who is always surprised by publication-day; who postpones every literary work till the last hour of grace, and then, a little longer; who requires so much of self-coaxing and backing, to get into the traces, after a week or so of freedom and grass,--all this systematic purpose, this routine, and rigid exactitude, is simply amazing,--it verges on the parvellous,--it is Ledger-demain. Ah, Fanny, is then your Pegasus always saddled, and bridled, and whinnying in the court? Is the steam always up in that tug-boat of a busy brain? Is the wine of your fancy never on the lees? Are there no house-cleaning days in your calendar? Don't your country friends ever come to town and drop in on your golden working-hours? Are there no autograph-hunters about your doors? Do not fond mammas ever send in their babies to deliciously distract you on a Ledger day? Do your dear five hundred friends always respect it,
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