Volume Forty-Two (2000)
Essays in History
Published by the Corcoran Department of History at the University of Virginia.
Sometime on 9 July, Hannah Holland strode into her bank to get a loan. She learned the next day that her application had been successful, but the news barely affected her busy day. The businesswoman had received bank loans in the past and would receive many more in the future. At first glance, scholars may view this anecdote as indifferently as Holland viewed her $1,000 bank loan. When told the episode occurred not in the twentieth century, or even the nineteenth, however, interest should wax strong. In fact, Holland received her loan in 1797.[1] Nor was she alone. Women held loan and deposit accounts in many northeastern banks in the early national period. They also owned significant amounts of corporate stock and other financial securities. Women's participation in finance is particularly interesting in view of recent research that portrays the early U.S. financial sector as the most advanced sector of the American economy.[2] Despite claims to the contrary, early national women retained the important economic roles that they held during the colonial period. Those economic roles created both the incentives and opportunities for women to engage in finance, the most important sector in the nation’s emerging market economy. This essay, like any short work based on new primary source evidence, can only be considered preliminary. It should establish, however, that the use of financial markets by Early American businesswomen deserves much more scrutiny.
Scholars have recently proven beyond all reasonable doubt that the domestic financial system was responsible for initiating U.S. nineteenth-century economic development. Intermediaries (commercial banks) and secondary securities markets (stock markets) were the two main sectors of the financial system. Both sectors matched investors (those with money to save) with entrepreneurs (those with profitable ideas to implement). Banks did so indirectly, by pooling the funds of depositors and stockholders and then deciding to which businesses to lend those funds. Securities markets, with bare aid from intermediaries known as brokers, directly linked investors to entrepreneurs.[3]
Banks specialized in making short-term loans to help businesses punctually meet their bills payable. They did so by discounting (paying the present discounted value of) businesses' bills receivable (bills of exchange, promissory notes). Such discounts (short-term loans) spread out the income streams of businesses, allowing them to function more efficiently. "A Tradesman, ... having a number of Apprentices employed," Philadelphian Miers Fisher explained in the early 1790s, "may have a considerable quantity of his manufacture upon his hands for which he cannot find an immediate Market." The effects of such a situation could be disastrous. "His stock worked up, — without money to purchase more, — demands upon him for Rent, market-money, Fuel &c., his workmen must stand idle" unless a short-term loan could be arranged.[4] Banks provided just such loans. Although there were times when not all creditworthy businesses could obtain discounts[5] and places where only insiders received funds,[6] overall, early banks fulfilled their economic roles well, as evidenced by their widespread political acceptance[7] and rapid proliferation.[8]
Securities markets provided long-term funding for large businesses. Corporations and associations sold non-maturing equity shares of themselves directly to investors. (Today this process is called an initial public offering or IPO.) The large, active secondary securities (stock) markets in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Northern Virginia, and Charleston, S.C., lured investors by offering them a means to divest at will. In other words, investors were willing to buy the shares because they knew that they could cheaply and easily sell them to other investors, if need be. Such transactions, of course, in no way affected the corporation, which had already received its money and could pay dividends to one investor as well as another. So, large businesses found the selling of stocks to be a profitable way of raising funds. By 1825, the market capitalization of U.S. companies nearly matched that of Great Britain's private companies! [9]
Smaller businesses had to find other means of long-term funding. In the lower middle Atlantic region, small businesses could buy land on ground rent contracts. Such contracts gave the purchaser fee simple ownership of land in exchange for a perpetual annual payment equal to the interest on the market value of the land on the date of sale. Such contracts were, in other words, a form of perpetual mortgage that allowed artisans, retailers, and other small businesses to acquire land without a large outlay. That freed them to use their savings to purchase tools and stock, allowing them to enter or extend business more quickly than they could otherwise have done. Importantly, ground rent contracts did not prevent the division or sale of land and were very secure forms of investment.[10]
Elsewhere, small businesses had to rely on private loans. The market for private loans was small during the colonial era. The advent of banks and securities markets, however, greatly improved the early national private credit market. The problem with the colonial credit markets was what economists now call "information asymmetry." Once investors found potential borrowers, by no means an easy process, they had difficulty distinguishing good credit risks from poor ones. Real estate collateral was used to limit risks, but such collateral had several inherent problems. First, the market value of real estate was difficult to ascertain and quite volatile. Second, land and buildings could be degraded or "wasted" if not attended to properly. Because of those difficulties, colonial investors had little incentive to lend outside of a narrow circle of friends and family or to insist on very high levels of collateralization (say, £3 of collateral per every £1 borrowed). Overcollateralization of course greatly reduced the amount that could be borrowed.
After the formation of banks and secondary securities markets in the 1780s and 1790s, the private loan market loosened considerably. By smoothing out income streams and adding liquidity to the financial system, banks made it easier for moneyed persons to invest in relatively illiquid (long-term, unsaleable) private loans. Securities proved to be excellent collateral because they were uniform in value and not subject to wastage. Also, the markets supplied investors with daily price information. So, overcollateralization became less necessary, allowing credit to expand.[11]
Women participated in the financial sector in the early national U.S. in several ways. First, as businesspersons, they partook of bank discounts and private loans. Second, as investors, they lent money to joint stock companies, governments, and small businesses. There is no evidence that a women-led business issued stock or that any woman became a corporate officeholder.[12] Women stockholders, however, certainly voted their stock, and their stockholdings, as discussed below, were sometimes quite substantial. Engagement in the wider economy provided women with the funds and motivation to use financial instruments and markets. Before exploring women and the financial sector, therefore, a review of women's wider market economic activity is necessary.
Historians have long been aware that women were an important component of the colonial economy. The primary economic role of most married colonial women was domestic in nature. Wives, in other words, prepared meals, made and mended clothing, nursed the sick, and generally managed their households' consumptive patterns.[13] In addition to their household functions, many married women provided direct assistance to their husbands' businesses. In other words, they acted as "deputy husbands," standing in for their husbands whenever necessary. According to historian Laurel Ulrich, "almost any task was suitable for a woman as long as it furthered the good of her family and was acceptable to her husband."[14] The last point is important. Although many colonial women were managing partners in the family firm, the law endowed their husbands with all of the legal decision-making power.[15] However, colonial husbands were often absent for extended periods; many gave their wives considerable discretion; and some went so far as to allow their wives to run separate businesses.
Additionally, single women, either unmarried or widowed, were economic agents as free from legal constraints as any colonial man. Indeed, colonial women were innkeepers, "she- merchants," artificers, health care providers, teachers, landed proprietors, writers, printers, shipbuilders, tailors, shoemakers, bakers, brewers, painters, gilders, and wallpaper hangers, among other occupations.[16] Whether a "deputy husband" or single, colonial women had to know how to keep accounts, make cash transactions, and arrange credit terms.
Colonial women most often made a living in occupations that stressed their traditional female roles as mothers and housekeepers. The market orientation of even the most feminine of occupations, however, transformed "women's work" into wealth accumulation. Women inn and tavernkeepers had to take money and promissory notes from their customers in order to pay their suppliers, for example. The operation of a public house necessitated the hosting of public functions, especially legal and economic ones. Vendues (public auctions), for instance, were commonly held at taverns, including those owned by women.[17] Seamstresses often developed into milliners and mantuamakers — fancy seamstresses who resold a stock of value-added goods. Colonial “she-merchants” sold a wide variety of goods from windows to clothes to wines to groceries. A few women were dry goods importers, the top of the colonial and early national merchants' ladder. One of these was Mary Alexander, the mother of Lord Stirling of Revolutionary War fame. She was a powerful New York City merchant of Dutch extraction. From the 1720s to the 1760s, Alexander lived the life of a wealthy merchant. Worth some £100,000, Alexander dealt in bills of exchange (essentially international checks), especially with Barclay and Sons, her bankers in England.[18] Other colonial women traders were furniture dealers, hardware traders, booksellers, druggists, and tobacconists. Some she-merchants specialized in certain goods. Clothing and seeds were favorite areas of concentration. Women came to dominate certain trades in some areas. For example, six of Boston's eight major seed retailers in 1774 were women.[19] Widows and single women in such occupations could not help but gain a familiarity with finances.[20] In fact, William Dawson ran "an evening school for young ladies" in Philadelphia in 1755 that included instruction in "arithmetick" and "accounts, by way of single entry, in a plain methodical manner."[21] Similarly, early textbooks for girls regularly included discussions of financial topics such as interest, present value, and security valuation.[22]
Although the words "for cash" or "for cash only" frequently appeared in the advertisements of colonial she-merchants, it is clear that many women merchants parted with their wares on credit.[23] Women shopkeepers were able to extend credit, it appears, because they were able to get credit directly from Britain.[24] But, like their male counterparts, their credit was not unlimited, and they often had to dun debtors for payment. Women's dunnings could be firm. One such dunning bluntly stated: "if not convenient to pay the money, to come and bring surety and change bonds into negotiable notes of hand ... and those neglecting will be sued in the December Court."[25] This she-merchant needed cash and was willing to resort to the private securities market, or the courts, to get it. Women shopkeepers also made their own promissory notes or assigned their debtors' notes to their creditors for collection.[26]
Over the almost two-and-a-half centuries from 1750 to 1990, the participation rate for women in the labor force was roughly U-shaped. In other words, it was highest in the beginning and end of that period and lowest in between.[27] Exactly when the women's labor force participation rate descended towards its nadir, however, has been a matter of debate. Some scholars, relying on cultural and legal evidence and Marxist theory, argue that the American Revolution proscribed women's economic activity.[28] They stress the Revolution's role in the proliferation of a "cult of domesticity" or a "Cult of True Womanhood," which extolled the virtues of sexual purity, submissiveness, and domesticity and which served to relegate women to a "separate sphere" of activity apart from the market-oriented male sphere.[29] That ideology was rooted in the fact that women to some extent did live lives apart from men; many women, for example, formed deeply emotional and sensual relationships with other women.[30] The ideology of the "separate sphere" reduced housework to a new form of leisure and thereby sought to decrease the economic and political power and aspirations of women.[31] White males, some scholars believe, pushed the domesticity ideology in order to stabilize the new Republic; white males could only consider each other equals if they believed women (and blacks) to be inferior. The ideology of the separate sphere, in other words, attempted to deny that married women were full partners in the "matrimonial firm" and that single women could and should enjoy political privileges.[32]
While the domesticity ideology clearly existed, before the Civil War its effect on women's economic roles was modest at best. Women continued to "hurry, hurry, hurry, and drive, drive, drive"[33] to do "all the in-doors work,"[34] but they still found time to join the market economy as workers and producers. Claudia Goldin's systematic analysis of Philadelphia city directories and census manuscripts, for example, demonstrates that women remained active in the market economy in the early national and antebellum periods. Furthermore, Goldin shows that female labor force participation rates were a function of market forces, not ideology. In other words, women moved into and out of the market economy in response to macroeconomic conditions and shifted from sector to sector in response to price movements. For example, in 1820, a year of recession following the Panic of 1819, approximately thirty women were fully employed for every 100 fully employed males. In 1832, a strong year economically, about forty-three women were fully employed for every 100 fully employed males. In 1850, another strong year, the ratio of fully employed women to men was almost fifty.[35]
Other scholars have also noted women's strong economic presence after the Revolution. In a careful study, Mary Roberts Parramore showed that the number of women traders in South Carolina actually boomed after the Revolution.[36] James Henretta has also argued that the Revolutionary War "broadened the scope of women's work."[37] Unfortunately, a dearth of documents prevents historians from describing the economic lives of most early American women in detail. Luckily, however, significant business records of a few women have survived. The business biographies of those women are powerful tools for appreciating the economic importance of women in the early U.S.
One of the most illuminating business biographies is that of Martha Ballard, a Maine housewife and midwife who left us a detailed record of her life from 1785 until her death in 1812. Ballard's diary shows that early national women participated in a female economy that intersected with the more well-documented male-dominated economy. It also shows that wives enjoyed considerable economic independence from their husbands. Ballard hired, supervised, and even paid a small work force of "girls," some her daughters, some relatives, and some non- kin hired workers. From dressing, cleaning, and cooking quadruped offal to pulling, combing, spinning, reeling, and warping flax, to producing candles, soap, and lye, Ballard and her workers kept the family farm functioning. Ballard and her girls also produced, and later cleaned, a variety of clothes, coats, and bedding. Although the male members of the farm produced crops for sale in regional markets, Ballard was responsible for producing food for home and local consumption, so she and her girls tended the gardens, cows, pigs, and chickens. Ballard was also the farm's veterinarian. Ballard, after all, was more than just a "deputy husband;" she was also a professional midwife and folk healer. Over three decades, she delivered 797 babies and treated many a burn, rash, and frozen extremity. She also retailed various medicines (like camphor), various elixirs, and herb remedies, many of her own creation. Throughout all, Ballard faced the same business problems that men faced, including worker shortages and product and service demand fluctuations. No wonder Ballard lamented that her work was "never done."[38]
Philadelphian Elizabeth Meredith (1742-1799), wife of tanner Jonathan Meredith, was also accomplished in business matters. Mrs. Meredith maintained the tannery firm's account books, borrowed money for the firm from the Bank of Pennsylvania, collected the firm's debt, and contracted with workers, suppliers, and customers. Eventually, she helped to liquidate some of the assets of the tannery and to reinvest the profits in real estate, housing, and mercantile speculations.[39]
Meredith was essentially a "deputy husband." Esther Lewis, on the other hand, was one of Southeastern Pennsylvania's many successful widows.[40] In the 1830s and 1840s, Widow Lewis owned and ran a farm and iron ore mine in Chester County. She supervised the labor of family and non-kin employees, contracted with iron makers, and of course handled all of the firm's finances.[41]
In the early national period, married women, when not serving as deputy husbands, joined the emerging market economy, sometimes as employees, but usually as producers of marketable goods.[42] Historian Joan Jensen, for example, makes a compelling case that married women dairy farmers helped to fuel the economic growth of Philadelphia's hinterland in the first half of the nineteenth century.[43] On average, a woman could produce 200 pounds of butter per year. At 25 cents per pound, that activity would increase farm income by $50, a considerable sum at the time. Furthermore, butter prices were more stable than the prices of other agricultural products and hence served as a hedge during bad times.[44]
How was it that women were so deeply involved in the market economy? Despite a few legal barriers, most women, even married ones, could engage in business on their personal account.[45] Women enjoyed extensive property rights when single, and, when married, if a feme sole. Originally a London custom, feme sole status was codified by some American colonies or states.[46] Pennsylvania, for example, passed an act relative to feme sole traders in 1718. The act was designed for mariner's wives, to protect them, after established in business, from having to pay the debts of profligate husbands. The act also protected "creditors [so that they] may, with certainty and safety, transact business with a married woman under the circumstances aforesaid." A feme sole trader, in other words, was a married woman conducting business on her own, with her husband's permission, but without his aid.[47]
The English common law concerning coverture and feme sole status was best described in 1700 in a legal treatise titled Baron and Feme: A Treatise of the Common Law Concerning Husbands and Wives.[48]A pamphlet published in Philadelphia on the eve of the Civil War shows how little feme sole rules changed in a century and half.[49] The compiler of the piece, Thomas Baylis, wrote the pamphlet to help "merchants dealing with married women, and selling them goods, ... [a] quite a common practice." Baylis began by arguing that "the disability of a married woman to contract, so as to bind herself, arises not from the want of discretion, but because her legal identity is merged in the person of her husband." "The husband," Baylis continued, "is not liable for money lent to his wife."[50] Likewise, "a suit cannot be maintained against a married woman for goods sold and delivered, unless she is lawfully trading as a feme sole trader, under the Act of 1718." Feme sole traders, on the other hand, may "sue and be sued, plead and be impleaded at law during their husband's natural lives, without naming their husbands." Just as in England in 1700, in Baylis' Philadelphia, "the main question in ... cases where the husband lives with the wife, and is in and about the business, seems to be: In what capacity is the husband in and about the business?" In other words, is he his wife's agent, employee, or merely trading in her name? The difference between coverture and feme sole status was especially important in contracts for the repayment of money, such as promissory notes. Though of proper form, sometimes courts declared promissory notes void because the husband did not sign the note and the contracted debt was not for "necessaries."
Whether speaking of single women, married women acting under some sort of feme sole provision or custom, or widows, the millinery[51] and mantuamaking[52] trade dominated all other economic avenues open to women in the early national period.[53] Many women became innkeepers, grocers, landlords, and teachers, but the fancy clothing trade was the most challenging and potentially lucrative. Milliners and mantuamakers were more than mere seamstresses. They were highly skilled artisans deeply involved in the transatlantic fabric trade. Milliners and mantuamakers could make a “comfortable livelyhood” but, as in other skilled trades, success usually required a lengthy apprenticeship and even formal training. A girl's school in Oxford, New York, for example, away from "the scene of dissipation and alluring gaiety" of cities, offered courses in reading, writing, "and Needle work of all kinds — Netting, Fringing, Millenary, and Mantua-making."[54] Most milliners and mantuamakers kept small retail shops where they sold fancy, "untrimmed" cloth, finished imported clothes, and their own value-added productions.
Most women traders merely mentioned they sold goods "on very reasonable terms."[55] Others were more aggressive. Mrs. S. Toole, for example, advertised that "she has received several cases supurb [sic] millinary ... all of which she will sell from 10 to 15 per cent lower than any other house in the city."[56] When Mrs. Barbour opened her "new millinery" in Bath, New York, she advertised "all kinds of produce will be received in payment."[57] Miss Post also agreed that "Various Kinds of PRODUCE will be received in exchange for Millinery" when she moved her store from Utica to Geneva in the mid-1820s.[58] Miss Winship of Rochester sold her "millenery & mantuamaking" goods "cheap for Cash or most kinds of produce."[59] Mrs. Merrit sold her "assortment of Millinery ... silks and sattins ... at the lowest prices for ready pay."[60]
Male wholesale import merchants did not eschew trade with milliners. M. Natsh, No. 7 Peck Slip, ran the following advertisement in the New York Weekly Museum: "To Milliners White, Brown and Blue Bonnet Boards, for sale."[61] N. Smith, a "Chymical Perfumer from London," advertising in the same women's magazine, made it clear that "great allowance [will be given] to those who buy to sell again."[62] Alexander Saunders and John Leonard, manufactures "of Hats and Bonnets," seemed to specialize in supplying milliners: "With a general and elegant assortment of articles in the Millenary Line, by wholesale only."[63] J. Tiebout tried to sell "Ten Gross BONNET BOARDS of a superior quality ... to Milliners."[64]
Like country businessmen, milliners in out of the way places were not averse to diversifying their offerings in order to improve sales. Mrs. Barnard of Bath, for example, ran a boarding house and millinery.[65] Mrs. Ayers of Ithaca sold "millenary & groceries (butter, wheat)" and received "most kinds of produce ... in payment."[66] Also like businessmen, women traders sometimes entered into partnerships and other forms of business relationships.[67] Miss Coon of Ogdensburgh, for example, made arrangements to carry on her millinery and mantuamaking business "at the house of Mr. Fitch."[68] Jesse Merritt and his feme sole wife moved into the building "formerly occupied by the Newburgh Branch Bank."[69] Mrs. Merritt carried on an extensive business, advertising that she "had returned from New York, with a very General assortment ... She has likewise obtained a knowledge of the present City Fashions."[70] This, however, did not keep Mrs. Torrey from opening a new millinery "next to J. Merritt in the building once occupied by David Ayers."[71] Torrey also carried on an extensive business. Besides her shop in Ithaca, she kept "a supply of the above articles [fabrics] ... at the store of Mr. Calkin, at Athens, Tioga Point, where orders will be also received for any article in the Millinery line." Torrey did so well that she soon removed to a brick building, where she advertised that she would sell her wares for cash or produce.[72] Torrey may have forwarded country produce to her associate Mr. Calkin for resale in the Albany or New York markets. Sometimes milliners and mantuamakers entered into more formal partnerships. Miss Flagg and Miss Rogers of Plattsburgh entered into partnership in 1817, for example.[73] A year later, the unmarried sisters "Miss[es] L. & A. Mather ... removed to a room in the Store occupied by S. Mather & Son" to make and sell "elegant clothes."[74]
Milliners and mantuamakers were part of a women-dominated trade network that distributed goods from New York. Milliners in intermediate towns forwarded goods to country and frontier areas. For instance, besides carrying on her millinery and mantuamaking business, Miss A. S. Hotchkiss shipped "Winter hats, gypsies, leghorns," for retail sale in Rochester.[75] But Hotchkiss' operation paled in comparison with that of Mrs. Langworthy, who sold ladies hats "together with many other desirable goods." From Langworthy's two ads, it is clear that she sold headdresses, pelisses, hats, and summer dresses. Langworthy was also attempting to build up a wholesale trade. "Neighbouring Milliners are particularly invited to call," she wrote, "where they can be accommodated with the latest style of Hats, patterns, and the sign of the times."[76] Langworthy's shop was so well known, a male competitor, Asahel Barber, referenced his store in relation to hers! Part of Langworthy's success may have been due to familial connections. Her husband was probably a partner in the Rochester Cupola Furnace, which Langworthy, Hall & Co. used to make plows, weights, spindles, and gudgeons.[77] Other Rochester milliners, most notably Mrs. Strong, bore important family names.[78]
Shortly after the Civil War, "Belle Otis" published her Diary of a Milliner.[79] Otis, whose real name was probably Caroline H. Woods, described her daily life as a milliner and her transition from a naive widow into a hard-nosed businessperson. "When I went into business I had very correct ideas of integrity in the abstract," Otis wrote in her Preface. "I intended to make steady, reasonable profits," she explained, but "had no idea of the fluctuation in prices which might interfere with my purpose." Otis, her diary revealed, concocted "Paris," "London," and "New York" "imports" to increase her sales. She felt uneasy about the deceitful way that she treated her customers, but claimed she "loved" them and thought that they "loved the attention" which she provided.
Otis' undated[80] diary began with the young widow trying to decide what to do with her life. "I am told that it is not genteel and fashionable for young ladies to work," she admitted, but necessity drove her into the market economy. Her next choice was whether to "go on a salary, or engage in some business of my own?" She decided on the latter, reasoning that she was "as capable of managing a business, and obtaining all the profits of it as the one who might employ me." Though frightened, she was happy because "business will be independence."
Otis immediately recognized that she "must get some practical knowledge of those perplexing phrases, percentage, profits, losses, &c." She decided to become a clerk in a large millenary establishment to learn the trade. (Young businessmen often took a similar route.) Otis honed her sales skills until she could "tell by a glance whether the article sought for suits by the expression of the face." She quickly came to live by the old Quaker proverb: "Get money honestly if thee can ... but don't fail to get it." Like many male merchants, she was soon railing vociferously against women who looked for hours without buying.
Finally, women, like their male counterparts, sometimes defended their sex and trades in the public press. In the wake of the Panic of 1819, for example, many pseudo-economists blamed the economic downturn on "extravagance," "fashion," and, indirectly, women.[81] "Matilda" retaliated, asserting that men were extravagant in their use of tobacco and liquor.[82] This article started a mini-newspaper war. [83] In Rochester in the early 1820s Tabitha, a "Milliner & Mantuamaker" who "resided in this village some time" wrote the Telegraph to "protest in the most solemn manner against the practice of certain merchants introducing Leghorn Hats ready trimmed, and Silk Dresses made up." Such practices, she argued, were "an infringment upon a branch of business, with which they ought not to interfere." "If I discover any thing of the kind in future," she warned, "I shall be more explicit."[84]
Clearly then, at least some women were deeply involved in the early national economy as independent businesspersons. In general terms, their economic activities were identical to those of their male counterparts. We should expect, then, to find that women engaged in many of the same financial activities as men. Indeed, although records are far too sparse to assess women's participation in early finance with any degree of precision, the following survey shows that early national women were owners of financial securities, recipients of bank discounts, and an important class of bank noteholders. As such, they were part of the cutting edge of national economic development.
Sometimes women participated in finance merely as an agent for their fathers, brothers, or husbands.[85] Infamous financier William Duer, for example, involved his wife Kitty in his financial schemes. "Received your letter my dear love, this morng," Mrs. Duer once wrote. "I am sorry it did not arrive in time to have done the Business in Bank on saturday," she continued, adding that she had "managed to take up the notes by borrowing 1100 dols of Rosevelt."[86] Kitty ended her very businesslike letter by informing William: "I am obliged to make large drafts on your cash on acct of the expense of moving."[87] After Duer's bankruptcy led to a minor financial panic and the failure of close associate Alexander Macomb, Macomb's wife pledged that her "own little property shall go towards the maintenance of the Family with pleasure."[88]
It is clear, however, that women could and did engage in financial transactions on their own account. For example, women bought and sold government securities for their own portfolios.[89] Women owned a large percentage of the small volume of government bonds issued during the colonial era. For instance, nineteen of the thirty- one subscribers to Pennsylvania's Indian Commissioner Loan of 1759-1760 were women.[90] During the Revolution, women owned Continental securities.[91] After the Revolution, some women speculated in government debt. In 1784, for example, widow Marian Maxwell advertised that "Cash, Bills of the New Emission, and any other Security of the State of New-York will be taken in payment, at their current value" for debts due her husband's estate.[92] Twenty women were among the 256 holders of Pennsylvania debt securities who applied in 1791-92 to use their certificates to subscribe to the new federal loans created as part of Alexander Hamilton's refunding plan. Women's subscriptions amounted to 4.81 percent of the total dollar value of Pennsylvania's subscription.[93] In 1809, Philadelphia shopkeeper Ann Robertson instructed her executors to invest the proceeds of her estate in “the funds or public securities,” by which she certainly meant federal bonds.[94] Later, women owned state internal improvement bonds. Hellen Ellice, for instance, owned a large amount of Pennsylvania 5 percent bonds in the 1830s.[95]
One of the best investments a widow or young lady could make was in bank stock.[96] Early banks were extremely stable, and, unlike long bonds or long leases, their current payments (dividends) tended to move in the same direction as general prices. This eased the burden of price inflation.[97] Sometimes bank stock was a real Godsend. During the War of 1812, bank stock helped Marie Nichols make ends meet. "Now, mamma has not been well for some two or three weeks," Nichols explained to Mrs. James Bayard, "and it was a little difficult to determine the cause of her malady; but the nature of her disease declared itself upon her rapid recovery when the United States Bank[98] declared a dividend." "This is an excellent Bank," Nichols continued, "last quarter they paid 3 percent — this 3 ½ percent — next they hope to pay 4 percent." Nichols was "truly thankful" for the Bank's high dividends because it cushioned some of the discomfort that price inflation inflicted on families with fixed incomes. "It is hard at any time to have one's income reduced," she concluded, "but more aggravating when the necessaries of life are so raised in value."[99]
For these reasons, considerable numbers of women owned equity stakes in banks, insurance companies, and other joint-stock companies. Eleven of the eighty-nine persons and companies who held stock in the Insurance Company of North America from 1792 until 1799 were women.[100] Similarly, some fifty-three of the Manhattan Company's first 388 subscribers were women.[101] A considerable number of women owned stock in the Bank of Pennsylvania in the mid-1790s.[102] Ten of the first sixty-nine (14.5 percent) subscribers to the Commercial and Farmers of Baltimore were women. They accounted for 12.5 percent of the total capital subscription to that bank in its 1810 public offering.[103] In 1812, some forty-five females, mostly unmarried women and widows, owned stock in the Bank of Utica.[104] Nine percent of the eighty-nine investors in the IPO of the Central Bank of Worcester, Massachusetts, were women, though they purchased only twenty-four of the 1,000 shares offered. When that Bank offered an additional 517 shares in 1848, 12 percent of the purchasers were women, but again they took on average fewer shares than the average subscriber took. During that Central Bank's 1850 offering of 1,000 shares, 14.6 percent of the investors were women, but this time their portion of the shares purchased, 9.8 percent, was much closer to the average subscription.[105] Twelve percent of the initial subscribers to the Bank of Chester County (1814) were women, who accounted for only 4.8 percent of the total number of shares taken.[106] If anything, women increased their stake in that institution over the next several decades.[107] Indeed, women were probably more extensively engaged in the secondary markets than in IPOs. For example, women were transactors in 21.6 percent of the 111 transfers of Worcester Bank stock between 1812 and 1846 for which records still exist.[108]
Women were less active investors in transportation companies, but their presence was usually felt nonetheless. None of the first fifty-nine investors in the Schuylkill Bridge near Philadelphia, for example, were women.[109] Of the first 427 investors in the Permanent Bridge, also near Philadelphia, only twenty-two (5.15 percent) were women. Women accounted for only 553 (3.69 percent) of the 15,000 shares initially subscribed between April 1798 and April 1800.[110] When 241 additional investors joined the company in 1803, twenty-one (8.7 percent) were women who accounted for just 3.5 percent of the 5,477 new shares. Between 1800 and May 1815, 32,153 shares of the company's stock changed hands in 716 transactions (44.9 shares per trade average). During that span, thirty women sold 540 shares and fifty-three purchased 1,064 shares, for a net increase of women's holdings of 524 shares.
Other types of nonbank corporations attracted female investors but not always in droves. The spotty records that remain of the Chester County Silk Company make clear that women owned shares of its stock but allow for little else to be said with certainty.[111] In Maine in 1844, women were just 7.5 percent of all nonbank stockholders and accounted for only 4 percent of the nonbank capital of the state's nineteen nonbank corporations.[112] In Pennsylvania about that time, seven of the forty-nine subscribers to the tiny ($1,000 par capitalization) Agricultural and Mechanics Association of Pennsylvania and New Jersey were women.[113]
The most comprehensive data on women's bank stockholding now extant also comes from Maine and dates from 1839 and 1841. In 1839, 15.33 percent (472 of 3079) of the stockholders of the state's fifty banks were women. Women accounted for 8.93 percent of the par value of stock in that year. The figures for 1841 were similar (17.33 percent of stockholders; 9.55 percent of stock value).[114] (By 1853, women composed 24.7 percent of Maine bank stockholders and owned a full 16 percent of the par value of Maine bank stock!)[115] Women’s investment in Maine's banks may have paled compared to women’s investment in Massachusetts. According to political economist Henry C. Carey, by the late 1830s women owned some 38.5 percent of Massachusetts's total banking capital.[116] (Carey applauded limited liability corporations because small tradesmen, servants, and women could buy stock without fear. Under such a principle, he noted, an association of even the “poorest persons” could fund its activities.)[117] Indeed, women's benevolent associations, like "The Association for the relief of respectable aged indigent females," often invested in equities. That organization gave their wards cash, wood, and tea. The organization paid for the handouts from current donations, of course, but also received a "dividend on Stock in Mechanics Bank $40.50."[118]
Like other property, married women could own bank stock on their own account, and they did not lack the legal support of male attorneys when pursuing their rightful claims. "It is a glorious cause to argue," financier Jacob Barker told New York attorney Benjamin F. Butler, "being against the Husbands right to dispose of Bank stock settled on his wife by her late father." [119]
Stock ownership often entailed borrowing privileges for men and women alike.[120] Personal records show that women could get discounts at banks, even the Bank of the United States,[121] but such records are unsystematic. Extant bank ledgers, on the other hand, though few, yield some limited data regarding the degree of women’s banking. In 1790, 2.68 percent of the Bank of North America's almost 1,600 customers were women.[122] A decade later, women composed 5 percent of the Bank's customer base. Three decades later, women were still banking, making up 11 percent of the Bank of Germantown's customers.[123] Women also received discounts from country banks.[124] At least five women received discounts at the Farmers' Bank of Reading, Pennsylvania, in 1831, for example.[125]
From large merchant Margaret Duncan, to innkeeper Sarah Dyer,[126] to tutoress Mary Pine,[127] to gentlewoman Sarah Wistar,[128] banks helped businesswomen in a variety of ways. Wistar, for instance, received 190 credits in the Bank of North America between 1809 and 1815.[129] Since Wistar was a stockholder, some of these credits were dividend payments. Others were loans. Most were "lodged" deposits of cash or checks. Wistar drew on her balance with checks, some made out to order, but most simply "to bearer." She made out these bearer checks for as little as $6 and as much as $13,000. In 1791, shopkeepers Anne and Sarah Ashbridge wrote 121 checks, mostly to important Philadelphia businessmen like John Chaloner. They met these drafts by making 49 deposits, about one a week, ranging between $50 and $225. That same year, the throughput (credits) of shopkeeper Mary Rhea's account topped $13,500, quite a hefty sum (approximately $135,000 in 1999 U.S. dollars).
In general, women used banks for the same reasons as men: to safeguard money, to make disbursements by check, and to increase liquidity. In other words, women used banks to improve their business and personal finances. Though some women, like some male customers, used the bank only to store funds which they withdrew in cash, most disbursed their credits by writing checks. Also, many women customers received bank discounts.[130] That is, the bank loaned them money on the security of a promissory note or bill of exchange. This allowed them both to extend their businesses and to conduct their operations more safely, i.e., with less chance of insolvency.
Whatever the exact numbers in particular times and places, it is clear that, in New England and the Middle Atlantic states anyway, there were no legal restrictions, outside of coverture, to women's bank use. In other words, women could engage in every type of activity needed to bank. For example, they could make or endorse promissory notes and bills of exchange.[131] William B. Astor, son of John Jacob Astor, often sent bills of exchange to John Jacob’s sister Elizabeth. "At the request of my father," William once wrote, "I enclose you John Bolton Agent's bill on Thos. Wilson & Co. (No. 7) at 60 dys favor John Bolton for £500 which be pleased to receive."[132] Elizabeth was well equipped to deal with such difficult transactions, as John Jacob had corresponded with her about complicated financial matters for years.[133] But a woman did not have to be John Jacob Astor's sister to make or use personal securities. Margaret Duncan, a large early national Philadelphia merchant and Bank of North America customer, also dealt in bills of exchange.[134] Women also circulated promissory notes. In the mid 1820s Miles Sweeney of Geneva cautioned the public "against purchasing two Notes of Hand, which were stolen from the subscriber." "One of the said Notes," Sweeney's ad continued, "was drawn by Mrs. Mary M'Kay, to the subscriber or bearer, for $200, dated Bloomfield, 15th March, 1819."[135] Women could also make,[136] receive,[137] and endorse checks,[138] even epistolary checks (i.e., checks written entirely by hand without a pre-printed form).[139] Alexander Hamilton's wife Elizabeth, for example, had the power to draw checks against Hamilton's account in the Bank of the United States.[140] In 1815 a "young girl" presented Jacob Barker's Exchange Bank with a forged check.[141] A woman asked her husband for a check in an 1819 farce.[142] In 1811, an anti-debtor's prison essayist claimed that the state's debtor laws and promissory notes helped to perpetuate prostitution. The madams controlled their girls by compelling "them to give a quantity of promissory notes, for small sums, on each of which they sue, and thus harass them into a compliance with their purpose."[143]
Women could also loan their money to others. Banker Alexander Bryan Johnson once told of a widow who "loaned [her husband's small estate] on interest." This arrangement "added greatly to her resources, small as the income seems to persons in a different society."[144] They could also receive deposits and make disbursements to third parties. Erastus Root once wrote Ebenezer Foote: "I leave the bill with Mrs. White — you can have it by sending to her."[145] Notes payable at houses where a woman resided could be protested for non-payment if the woman asserted that the maker had not made provision for its payment with her.[146]
Women not under coverture could sue and be sued.[147] At least one woman, Martha Bradstreet of Utica, spent so much time in the courts that she was practically a lawyer. Contemporaries called her "a host in herself." Because she was "a strenuous and persevering claimant of a large part of the soil of Utica," she acquired "by study a mastery of the law of real estate." "She harassed numbers of its citizens with suits at law and besieged the courts with her causes," antiquarian Moses Bagg asserted.[148] She started so many suits that she had fill-in-the-blank forms created for her own use![149] Other women started suits too. For example, Mary Vredenburgh sued Benjamin Thomas for default on a mortgage in 1822.[150]
The seamy side of finance also attracted some women. "Mary Davidson was detected in passing counterfeit money," the Northern Whig announced in 1812. She was carrying $500 in bad bills and $50 of specie when she was apprehended on her way to Goshen, New York. "There is no doubt but she has been employed by a gang of counterfeiters," the editor concluded.[151] She eventually got two years in the New Jersey State Prison for her activities.[152] Women were implicated in some of the many financial controversies of the period. For example, in the spring of 1810, Federalists alleged the State's Republican Comptroller had made improper use of the School Fund by loaning too much money for too long on too little security to too many friends and family members. Two of the "improper" loans, for $1,450 and $1,250, were made to Catherine Tillinghast.[153]
Compared to the attention paid to businessmen, historians have largely ignored early American businesswomen. The few studies of them that do exist, ably surveyed in Angel Kwolek-Folland’s recent Incorporating Women, almost completely ignore women’s role in the financial sector.[154] Given the recent interest in early national financial markets, more studies of women’s use of finance seem in order.
Although women were not commercial bankers or corporate officers, they did own the equities of commercial banks and other corporations, voted their stock, and received discounts and other financial accommodations. Women used those accommodations to help their businesses and lives. Lisa Wilson Waciega's view that early national women could excel in business is certainly correct.[155] But women were involved in more than just the general economy; they were a sizable part of the most advanced part of the early national economy, the financial sector.
[11] Wright, Origins of Commercial Banking; Wright, Wealth of Nations Rediscovered.
[15] Matthaei, Economic History of Women, 32.
[17]. Dexter, Colonial Women, 10.
[21]. Pennsylvania Gazette, 25 March 1755.
[23]. Dexter, Colonial Women, 36; Cleary, "'She Merchants,'" 44.
[24]. Cleary, "'She Merchants,'" 8; Cleary, "Women's Sphere," 181- 202.
[25]. Dexter, Colonial Women, 37.
[26]. Manges, "Women Shopkeepers," 69.
[32] Boydston, Home and Work, ix; Kerber, Women of the Republic, 120.
[33] Harriet Beecher Stowe as quoted in Boydston, Home and Work, 75.
[34] Boydston, Home and Work, 75-98.
[42] Boydston, "The Woman Who Wasn't There," 190-91; Matthaei, Economic History of Women, 51-73.
[44] Jensen, Loosening the Bonds, 79-91.
[46]. Parramore, "Feme Sole," 6.
[47]. Cleary, "'She Merchants,'" 83, 106-8.
[50]. Baylis relied heavily on the legal treatises of New York jurist James Kent.
[52]. Mantuamakers made fancy dresses and cloaks. Norton, Liberty's Daughters, 138.
[53] Goldin, "Economic Status," 396.
[54]. Sherburne (New York) Olive Branch, 18 March 1807.
[55]. New York Weekly Museum, 27 March 1802.
[56]. New York People's Advocate, 23 February 1806.
[57]. Bath Farmers' Advocate and Steuben Advertiser, 28 August 1828.
[58]. Geneva Palladium, 16 June 1824.
[59]. Rochester Telegraph, 28 March 1820.
[60]. Ithaca Republican Chronicle, 3 January 1821.
[61]. New York Weekly Museum, 23 November 1805.
[62]. New York Weekly Museum, 17 May 1806.
[63]. New York Weekly Museum, 24 May 1806.
[64]. New York Weekly Museum, 21 May 1808.
[65]. Bath Farmers' Advocate and Steuben Advertiser, 19 April 1827.
[66]. Ithaca Republican Chronicle, 13 June 1821.
[67]. New York Weekly Museum, 8 December 1810.
[68]. St. Lawrence Gazette, 5 May 1818.
[69]. Ithaca Republican Chronicle, 24 January 1821.
[70]. Ithaca Republican Chronicle, 4 July 1821.
[71]. Ithaca Republican Chronicle, 9 January 1822.
[72]. Ithaca American Journal, 7 August 1822.
[73]. Plattsburgh (New York) Republican, 22 November 1817.
[74]. Cherry Valley (New York) Gazette, 26 November 1818.
[75]. Rochester Telegraph, 21 January 1823.
[76]. Rochester Telegraph, 30 June 1828.
[77]. Rochester Telegraph, 8 September 1828.
[78]. Rochester Telegraph, 12 July 1828.
[79]. Belle Otis, Diary of a Milliner (New York: Hurd and Houghton, 1867).
[81]. Mordecai M. Noah, Essays of Howard (New York: National Advocate, 1820).
[82]. Albany Plough Boy, 4 September 1819.
[83]. Albany Plough Boy, 11 September, 2 October 1819.
[84]. Rochester Telegraph, 4 June 1822.
[86]. Probably Isaac Roosevelt or Nicholas Roosevelt.
[90] Indian Commissioner Certificates, 1759-1760, Gratz Collection, H.S.P.
[92]. New York Packet, 30 September 1784.
[94]. Copy of the Will of Ann Robertson, 27 January 1809, Dreer, H.S.P.
[96]. "Women frequently owned stock in banks." Lamoreaux, Insider Lending, 2 n.2.
[102]. Nancy Patterson Bright Collection, Bank of Pennsylvania Mss., 1790-1831, H.S.P.
[109] Schuylkill Bridge Subscription List, Society Coll., H.S.P., n.d.
[110] Schuylkill Permanent Bridge Co. Stockbooks, H.S.P.
[111] Chester County Silk Company, Ms. 7237, Chester County Historical Society.
[117]. Carey, Credit System, 82-83.
[119]. Jacob Barker to Benjamin F. Butler, Bloomingdale, 17 November 1822, Gratz Collection, H.S.P.
[121]. Rebecca Cadwalader to Thomas McEuen & Co., 17 March 1803, Gratz Collection, H.S.P.
[122]. Bank of North America Papers, Individual Ledgers, H.S.P.
[123]. Bank of Germantown, Individual Ledger D, H.S.P.
[124]. Bank of Utica, Individual Ledger, Oneida County Historical Society, Utica, New York, 1813.
[125] Farmers Bank Discount Book, Reading, Pa., 1831-36, H.S.P..
[128].Wistar Papers, Gratz Collection, H.S.P.
[129].Her bank book (checkbook) survives at the H.S.P.
[130]. Individual Ledgers, 1790-1803, Bank of North America Papers, H.S.P.
[135]. Geneva (New York) Palladium, 20 November 1822.
[139]. Rebecca Cadwalader to Thomas McEuen & Co., 17 March 1803, Gratz Collection, H.S.P.
[141]. Albany Advertiser, 14 October 1815.
[142]. New York National Advocate, 28 April 1819.
[143]. New York Observer, 27 January 1811.
[144]. Alexander Bryan Johnson, Banker's Magazine, January 1861.
[148]. Moses Bagg, Memorial History of Utica, N.Y. (Syracuse: D. Mason & Co., 1892).
[150]. Ithaca Republican Chronicle, 20 February 1822.
[151]. Hudson (New York) Northern Whig, 2 March 1812.
[152]. New York Herald, 1 April 1812.