All these months of toil I had received one bill after another from
different men and business houses. When they came for money I told
them I did not have a dollar, only what I earned, but that if the
bills were correct, I would settle them as fast as I could earn the
money. I determined to pay all of Mr. Blake's indebtedness, rather
than there should be a blot upon his name or honor, and also for the
sake of his two sons who had their lives to live. I had been sewing
for Mrs. Letitia Ralph, the dressmaker, who gave me the children's
clothes to make after she had fitted and basted them up for me. I had
my own boys so beautifully clad she wanted to know who made their
clothes. She proposed that if I would make the children's clothing she
would prepare the work for me. After my work of the day was over and
all the family slept I sewed until midnight. After I had moved to
Washington street, I bought one of the Ralph charts and perfected
myself in the art of cutting and fitting. I had been but two months
in the new place when one of my roomers got married, to my sorrow, for
that meant another empty room with the two parlors which had never
been rented. My heart sank within me for I was doubtful as to the
outcome of the new departure. My usual courage left me and I was at my
wits' end as to how to continue. As I sat by the machine I realized
the situation and I laid my head on the machine and the pent-up tears
at last came to my relief. While in this state I felt a presence in
the room and on looking up I saw the dear friend of my youth, Mrs. Sue
Bird, standing quietly by me, not knowing what to say. It was the
first time she had ever seen me in tears through the whole distressing
time of the last two or three years. I told her I did not know where
to commence and for once in my life I was discouraged. Before she
departed our plans were laid and the next day her machine came to the
house with a lot of new goods that she wanted to make up for herself
and children. We put a machine on each side of the bay window. I made
some signs during the day and put them in the windows. We decorated
the windows with the new goods, a fish globe, a hanging basket of
ferns, a wire model and placed upon it one of my concert dresses. We
draped the lace curtains back and the window looked stunning and very
businesslike. I arranged my cutting table and had Harper's Bazaar and
other fashion plates and Butterick patterns on the shelves. Our signs
in the window read: "Children's clothing neatly done and made to
order." Our dressmaking parlors were in full swing and in apple-pie
order. All we lacked were the customers, so we sat at the machines and
sewed until the third day, hoping to have some one come, yet dreading
to see them, for fear we would fail in our efforts. We watched people
passing all day long, going and coming and stopping to look at the new
place. At last, on the fifth day, a lady with a bundle came in at the
gate, and my heart beat with excitement. When I opened the door a
gentle little woman asked if I was the dressmaker, and I told her yes
and bade her enter. She unfolded her bundle and told me what she
wanted. I found myself talking and planning as if I had made dresses
for a number of years. It was her wedding dress of dove-colored silk
and she wanted me to make a dress of it for her twelve-year-old
daughter, with an addition of three yards of blue to match. I told her
I could make a beautiful child's dress, a very suitable and pretty
combination. The next day the girl was measured and the dress began
and by the end of the week it was to be tried on. When the dress was
done she was so pleased that I did her work as long as I was in the
business of dressmaking, which lasted ten years. This was the
beginning.
After Mrs. Bird had started me she was obliged to go to her home, so I
advertised for a forewoman. The next day I engaged a competent woman,
Mrs. Sheek from Nevada. She brought her sewing machine and was well up
in the ideas and ways of a shop. She saw right away I was new in the
art, but she and I soon understood what was needed. In one month
things went with such perfect system we were able to take in all the
work that was brought to us. Our window was always dressed and the
figure robed in the last garment finished, and we were becoming so
popular I was obliged to get more help. Before the year was out I had
ten girls constantly employed and three machines running all the time.
These were busy days, what with concerts, singing in churches and at
funerals, rehearsals, dressmaking and roomers. I also made costumes of
singers and actresses who heard of my ability. When singing, my
costumes attracted attention and I received many customers who were
struck by my gowns. Mrs. P.D. Bowers, the famous actress, sent for me
at the Palace and ordered her costumes for Amy Robsart, also other
costumes and dominos. Emilie Melville was my customer for her concert
and opera robes; so was Mme. Mulder and Mme. Elezer. I made the robes
for Signora Bianchi in the opera of "Norma," for Mrs. Tom Breese and
Mrs. Nick Kittle. Mrs. Tom Maguire and Mrs. Mark McDonald were regular
customers for years. Mrs. Maynard, a wealthy banker's wife, who lived
on Bush street, and her daughters justly appreciated my work, and I
found in Mrs. Maynard a lifelong friend. I continued in this busy way,
always hearing good news of the improvement in my husband in
Melbourne. He had been gone now a year and a half and I had received
encouraging letters from him and at last he informed me he would come
soon and take me and the boys to Melbourne to live. All the time he
was gone I had been paying off this tremendous amount of indebtedness
of his failure, and keeping it as a secret from him so as to surprise
him when he arrived. I was fully established and my church and concert
music was all I could ask for. My old spirit came back and I was happy
to know I had been able to help my husband through this $30,000
failure which had been such a blow to his pride and ambition and had
brought distress to his family. I received a letter that he was
coming on a certain steamer, and the boys and I were doing all we
could to have the home-coming complete. George was now fifteen years
old and William eleven. They had been going to school and had been
promoted each year and would have much to tell their father, himself a
man of letters and a graduate of Harvard University. His desire was
that the boys should excel, as had all the Blakes, Lincolns and
Sargents before them.
Each of these old and highly honored families of Massachusetts had
celebrated men among them, and they honored their forefathers and
tried to emulate their achievements and keep up the literary standard
of the Sargents, the military dignity of their great-grandfather,
Major Benjamin Lincoln of revolutionary fame, who took the sword from
Cornwallis and handed it to his general, George Washington; Eps
Sargent, the great writer of books, poetry and the song, "The Life on
the Ocean Wave," one of the famous songs of the time. These men were
the next of kin, and we were justly proud of the connection and tried
to uphold our side of the family honor as well as it was possible for
us of this generation to accomplish. The days were counted and each
evening we were happy in the recital of our part that was expected of
us when father returned. Only a short time remained to us who were
awaiting his coming. At last we were rewarded by the arrival of the
ship which was expected to bring our father, and the week had nearly
passed. On the fourth day a messenger from the ship came with a letter
from the captain that George L. Blake was dead and buried, in a
foreign land, with honors suitable to the man who had won for himself
the respect of all who knew him in the city of Melbourne. The railroad
offices were closed, the American flag at half mast, and men with
uncovered heads marched behind the hearse that bore the remains of
their distinguished member, the American gentleman from California, to
his last resting place. Our sorrow was too great to be realized, even
after reading the letter from the rector who had read the funeral
service over the dead, and who explained the circumstances of his
sudden death and told of the sorrow of his comrades and the officers
of the company who so honored him in a strange land. He had in a short
time won their esteem by his courteous and gentlemanly bearing towards
all who came in contact with him.
This was the sad message and the end of our bright hopes for the
future. The burden must now be borne alone with two children to
educate and this great indebtedness on my own shoulders to pay, until
all was done to honor his name and that of his sons. I saw no other
way but to work and keep busy. After several days my plans were mapped
out and I began to plan how to enlarge my business and still continue
with my music. When it became known that this sorrow had come to me, I
never lacked for friends, and in a short time I became so busy I had
no time to repine. After a year I needed more room, so I removed to
404 Post street, near the corner of Powell, into a cottage belonging
to a Mr. Simons. It was nearer town than on Washington and Stockton
streets. In a few days work went on as usual. Three of my permanent
roomers went with me. For four years I lived here, when Mr. Simons
sold the house and I was obliged to vacate. I found small rooms on
O'Farrell street and continued my work without cessation until the
beginning of 1875. During these years at 404 Post street I sang in the
St. John's Presbyterian Church, Post street. The organists during this
time were George T. Evans, later Frederick Katzenbach. The singers
were: Vernon Lincoln, tenor; Joseph Maguire, tenor; C. Makin, basso;
Mrs. Robert Moore, soprano; M.R. Blake, contralto. Later I resigned
and went for the second time to St. Patrick's Church and remained
there altogether ten years. The organist and director was J.H.
Dohrmann. The choir remained the same during that time. We had the
best talent that could be obtained and the music we sang was extremely
difficult. The sopranos were the best available. Among the singers
were:
Mr. Brown, _tenor_
Sig. Bianchi, _tenor_
Sig. G. Mancusi, _tenor_
Karl Formes, _basso_
Sig. Morly, _basso_
Sig. Reuling, _baritone_
Sig. Meize, _baritone_
Mr. Fuchs, _basso_
Mr. Schnable, _basso_
Mr. Stockmyer, _basso_
Mr. Yarndley, _basso_
Miss Louisa Tourney, _soprano_
Mrs. Urig, _soprano_
Mrs. Young, _soprano_
Mrs. Taylor, _soprano_
Mme. Brandel, _soprano_
Signora Bianchi, _soprano_
M.R. Blake, _contralto_
Ella Steel, _alto_
[Illustration:
Sam'l D. Mayer
Mrs. Alfred Abbey
"Joe" Maguire
Frank Gilder
Walter C. Campbell
Mrs. Augusta Lowell-Garthwaite
H.S. Stedman
Mrs. Mollie Melvin-Dewing