At the time of his death in 1831, Stephen Girard – a Philadelphia merchant, banker and philanthropist – was the wealthiest man in the United States. In his will, he left the city of Philadelphia an extraordinary gift of roughly US$6 million, which is almost $227 million today.
Girard also left instructions to use a portion of this gift to found a boarding school for poor, orphaned white boys. Today, this institution for grades 1-12 is known as Girard College, and it now admits students from underserved communities regardless of race or gender. Girard College inherited Girard’s material possessions, including furniture, personal papers and clothing – including this pair of heavily repaired silk stockings.
Their survival might make you wonder: Why was the wealthiest man in America walking around in mended clothing?
As a textile historian who writes about the labor of mending in early America, I studied the stitches used to repair Girard’s stockings along with his expansive archival records.
Together, this historical evidence helped me unravel new details about the value of textiles in early America, but also the women – including those who worked in Girard’s household — who made the country’s expansive economic growth possible.
Lessons from a rich man’s socks
Textiles were used every day by virtually every single early American, and were at the time usually the most valuable items one could own.
Prior to widespread mechanization, textiles were expensive due to the cost of materials and skilled labor needed to produce fabric, and they were often sourced abroad. In the late 18th and early 19th centuries, the U.S. had a growing domestic textile industry, but many Americans still imported fabrics from other countries like Great Britain, France and India. Bills from Girard’s household show that he regularly purchased many articles of his clothing, including silk stockings, from France.
The high value of textiles at this time meant that even the wealthiest households rarely discarded damaged clothes. Instead, they repaired them, using sewing needles and thread. While some men did mend, the overwhelming majority of textile repair was completed by women.
The menders: Sally, Polly and Hannah
In Girard’s household, at least three women would have mended his silk stockings and other clothes.
While Girard did marry, his wife, Mary, was institutionalized for mental illness at the Pennsylvania Hospital in 1790, and they had no children. In Mary’s absence, Girard had several mistresses who served as his housekeepers: Sally Bickham, a Quaker woman described by Girard in a letter as a “tayloress” or seamstress, and Polly Kenton, who was a laundress. As part of their labor, they managed Girard’s household affairs and shopping to keep his life running smoothly.
In addition, a Black woman named Hannah Brown from Saint-Domingue, a former French colony in what is now Haiti, was enslaved in Girard’s household for more than 40 years. This was the case even though Pennsylvania’s Gradual Abolition Act in 1780 should have ensured her freedom within six months of her arrival in the U.S. Pennsylvania unevenly enforced gradual abolition, and enslavers like Girard were able to skirt its implementation. Girard’s will granted Brown her freedom.
All three women labored in Girard’s household to mend his stockings, run his household’s daily activities and maintain his home. Three different mending techniques on Girard’s stockings – such as Swiss darning or duplicate knit stitch, woven darning and reinforced heels – are also material expressions of their work alongside paper records like household bills, letters and receipts.
Many early American women both free and enslaved completed unpaid labor in homes, but their labor was a central force in the national economic growth of the early 19th century. Across the country, men like Girard encouraged and profited from widespread industrialization and expanded commercial opportunities, but women’s unpaid domestic labor made their participation and profits possible.
While Philadelphians today may not find their names on prominent street signs or city buildings, Sally, Polly and Hannah’s combined efforts — hidden inside Girard’s shoes and behind his looming historical legacy in Philadelphia – were integral to Girard’s economic success.
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Emily J. Whitted currently receives funding from The Library Company of Philadelphia.
This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.
