Ann Powers was born in Newfoundland around 1785. Her marriage to James Alford, a sailor, on August 27, 1801, is recorded in the ledger of the Dutch Reformed Church in New York City. Seventy years later, she wrote her will in New Castle, New York, leaving money and several prized possessions to her friends. No relatives are named in Ann Alford's will; they are uniformly friends, and all who are explicitly named are female.
In a society where legal and social machinery conspired to keep property in the hands of men, and where familial ties were valued over non-familial ones, it is touching to witness the freedom of a woman to distribute her property among her female friends. Even more so than the pecuniary gifts, the choice of Ann's personal possessions illustrate the close bonds of friendship, as well as the way in which objects could function as conveyors of meaning and memory. Ann was 87 years old when she died; the recipients of her dresses were more than 30 years younger than she. Would the recipients actually wear the dresses? Or would they be kept for sentimental reasons only? It is worth noting that in the estate inventories of the 19th century, a person's "wearing apparel" was often the most valuable item in the list.
The other objects, while likely meant to evoke sentiment, seem more useful: the counterpane (bedspread) given to Emeline Benedict; the gold watch given to her daughter; even the bed and bedding left to Caroline Peters of Cincinnati (how exactly was that transaction accomplished?). While the idea of inheriting your elderly friend's bedsheets may seem a bit odd today, beds and bedding were very valuable in the 19th century, second only to apparel in the average person's inventory of possessions.
Here is the will in its entirety:
Will of Ann Alford
In the name of God, amen: I, Ann Alford, widow, of the town of New Castle, County of Westchester and State of New York, being of sound mind and memory do make, publish, and declare this my last will and testament, in manner following, that is to say:
First. I order my executors hereinafter named to pay all my just debts and funeral expenses.
Second. I give and bequeath unto my beloved friend
Emeline Benedict, widow of John Benedict of the town of New Castle, the sum of one hundred dollars, my black silk dress, my brown or slate colored dress, and my white counterpane.
Third. I give and bequeath to my beloved friend
Deborah Benedict, daughter of Emeline, my gold watch.
Fourth. I give and bequeath to my beloved friend
Caroline Peters, wife of John Peters of the city of Cincinnati and state of Ohio, my bed and bedding.
Fifth. I give and bequeath to my beloved friend
Hannah H. Sarles, wife of William A. Sarles of the town of Bedford, county of Westchester and state of New York, the sum of one hundred dollars and all the rest and remainder of my wardrobe not hereinbefore disposed of.
Sixth. I give and bequeath to my beloved friend
Sarah Ann Jackson, widow of George Jackson of the town of Bedford, county of Westchester and state of New York, the sum of one hundred and fifty dollars, and in case of the decease of the said Sarah Ann Jackson before receiving any benefit from the provision herein made for her benefit, then the said sum of one hundred and fifty dollars bequeathed to her shall be for the benefit of my beloved friend Hannah H. Sarles, wife of William A. Sarles of the town of Bedford, county of Westchester and state of New York.
Seventh. I give and bequeath unto my beloved friends
Mary Seaman of Norwalk and state of Connecticut;
Phebe Chase, wife of Edward Chase of the town of Bedford, county of Westchester and state of New York, and
Susan, daughter of Gilbert Van Tassel of the city, county, and state of New York, each the sum of fifty dollars.
Eighth. I give and bequeath to my beloved friends
Frances Cecelia Wheaton and
Maria Henrietta Wheaton, children of Miles B. Wheaton of the city of New York, each the sum of fifty dollars.
Ninth. And I further provide in case of the death of any one of the parties to whom I have left any legacy or given any articles (except in the case of the said Sarah Ann Jackson) then the provision so made to them shall not become void but shall revert to their heirs at law.
Tenth. I give and bequeath all the rest, residue, and remainder of my estate, goods and chattels, of what nature or kind so ever to the children of my beloved friend
John Romer, of the city, county, and state of New York, who shall remain unmarried at the time of my decease, share and share alike.
Lastly. I hereby nominate and appoint my friends
John Romer and
Miles R. Carpenter of the city, county, and state of New York executors of this my last will and testament, hereby revoking all former wills by me made.
In witness whereof I have hereunto set my hand and seal this twenty-fifth day of September in the year of our Lord, one thousand eight hundred and seventy one.
Mrs. Ann Alford
The above instrument consisting of one sheet was at the date hereof signed, sealed, published, and declared by the said Ann Alford as and for her last will and testament in presence of us, who at her request and in her presence and in the presence of each other have subscribed our names as witnesses hereto.
M. W. Fish, Bedford, Westchester Co., NY
H. S. Banks, New Castle, Westchester Co., NY
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Emeline Benedict, the recipient of $100, two dresses, and Ann's white counterpane, would have been 55 years old in 1871. Her daughter Deborah would have been around 30. John Benedict, their husband and father respectively, was a farmer who died sometime before 1870. Just two years earlier, Ann Alford was a boarder in the Benedicts' house, as shown in the 1870 federal census.
Hannah H. Sarles would have been 46 years old when she was named as the recipient of the remainder of Ann's wardrobe, as well as $100. She was a milliner, her husband a shoemaker.
Sarah Ann Jackson, who would have been 38, was born Sarah Ann Van Tassel. Phebe Chase and Susan Van Tassel were her sisters. Sarah Ann was recorded as a milliner in the 1860 census and a seamstress in the 1870 census. Her husband, George W. Jackson, was a tailor. Phebe Chase's husband Edwin was a tin smith; they married in 1861 and had three children. Phebe, one of her children, and her other sister Ardelia are buried in the cemetery.
Mary Seaman, who appears to have been unmarried, would have been 46, and in 1880 was living with her sister and brother-in-law, the Sherwoods, in Norwalk.
Miles B. Wheaton was a builder in New York City; his wife was Julia A. Wheaton. In 1871, their daughters Frances and Maria would have been 14 and nine years old, respectively. Their son William would have been five, but Ann didn't leave anything to him.
I haven't been able to identify which John Romer it was who is identified in Ann's will (there were several living in New York City in the 1870s, all with children). However, I find it interesting that Ann stipulated that only the yet unmarried children were to receive an inheritance.
If there's one pattern that I can discern running through the people named in Ann's will, it is that they tend to be women who exercise a relative amount of independence from men. Emeline Benedict was a widow; her daughter Deborah was single. Mary Seaman was single. Sarah Ann Jackson and Hannah H. Sarles were married, but both practiced trades of their own (milliner/seamstress and milliner, respectively). Frances and Maria Wheaton were unmarried adolescents.
Of course, this is only a theory, but perhaps Ann Alford had a soft spot for women and girls who, whether by choice or circumstance, provided for themselves either partly or totally. Perhaps, having no living children of her own, she befriended women and girls whom she could imagine as daughters and granddaughters. Perhaps some of these women also sought out Ann to fill a familial role in their lives. In the case of the Benedicts, it seems plausible that Emeline, in addition to being Ann's landlady, also served as her caregiver.
While this is all conjectural, these are the kind of relationships that I like to explore, the ordinary ties between neighbors and friends that were so essential to a community, yet can also feel very ephemeral as the stories and meanings behind the gifts to "beloved friends" are left unspoken and undocumented.