Charlotte in New York Read online

  Charlotte in New York

  BY JOAN MACPHAIL KNIGHT

  ILLUSTRATIONS BY MELISSA SWEET

  March 31, 1894

  Rue de l’Amiscourt

  Giverny

  The blacksmith had his hands full this morning! An automobile broke down right in front of his shop. By the time Lizzy and I got there, so had most of the village—even Monsieur Duboc with his herd of sheep, and a girl with ten squawking geese. It’s not every day you see an automobile in Giverny—much less a bright yellow one! The blacksmith said the driver was Monsieur Durand-Ruel from Paris. And that if he hadn’t been so quick to trade his horse and carriage for a machine, he wouldn’t have had to arrive at his hotel “à pied”—on foot—carrying his luggage! Then the blacksmith laughed and hitched his big gray workhorse to the automobile and pulled it to the side of the road.

  Papa said Monsieur Durand-Ruel is here to visit his old friend Monsieur Monet. And to look at paintings by the American artists living in Giverny. So many, like Papa, have come to Giverny to learn to paint “en plein air”—outdoors—in the French style called Impressionism. Monsieur Durand-Ruel is planning a show of their work at his gallery in New York and wants Papa’s work to be in it. Mr. Foster’s, too. I’ve never been to New York . . . and I can’t wait! I’m so glad the Fosters are coming. Lizzy Foster is my best friend, and it wouldn’t be the same without her. Mama says New York is the place to be. Papa says it’s nothing like our hometown of Boston—and Lizzy and I will see why when we get there!

  I wish we could go right away, but Papa says we’re off to Brittany first. Monsieur Durand-Ruel talks about a painter there named Gauguin whose paintings are like no others. Papa wants to see for himself. The Fosters won’t be coming. I’ll miss Lizzy, but I’ll see her on the dock at Le Havre. . . .

  April 15, 1894

  The Buvette de la Plage

  Le Pouldu, Brittany

  Our hotel is so close to the sea, I can feel salt spray on my face when I open the door. Toby likes it here, I can tell. He barks and runs in circles whenever we step outside.

  I like it, too. I have pancakes at every meal—only here they call them “crêpes.” Today I had them with strawberry jam for breakfast, with cheese for lunch and with shrimp for dinner. For dessert, I had crêpes with applesauce.

  And I’m learning to paint like Papa. This morning, we took our easels to the beach. After a while, Marie Henry, the innkeeper, came down. Everyone calls her Marie Poupée because she looks like a little doll. She said something to Papa about “un Parisien”—a man from Paris—and Papa told me he’d be right back. I stayed on the beach to paint.

  All at once, a shadow fell on my painting. I looked up and saw a boy standing there. He said his name was Hippolyte. He told me he’s French but he can speak English as well as any American. Then he told me he had a bucketful of sardines. I could smell them! When I told him I was going to New York, he laughed, pointed to the bucket, and said, “If wishes were fishes, I’d go to New York, too!” And then he walked away.

  When Papa got back, he said that the Parisien, Monsieur Durand-Ruel, has to leave for Paris tomorrow. If Papa wishes to meet Monsieur Gauguin, he’ll have to arrange it on his own. Then Papa looked at his canvas and said, “The light’s changed; I’ll finish in the morning.” We went up to the hotel and had lunch on the terrace.

  Every day, Marie Poupée teaches me some French words she thinks I should know.

  April 24, 1894

  The Buvette de la Plage

  Le Pouldu, Brittany

  We still haven’t seen Monsieur Gauguin—not once. At dinner tonight, Papa asked Marie Poupée what she knew about him. She said he is “très difficile,” very difficult. She must like his paintings, though. The walls are covered with them. The windows, too. He painted right on the glass so you can’t see out. “Another brilliant painter who can’t pay his hotel bills,” said Papa. Then he stood up to stretch. Papa looks like a giant in the little dining room. It’s no bigger than my bedroom in Giverny. The tables and chairs are so tiny he has to eat with his knees at his chin. It’s not comfortable for him, but for me it’s as cozy as can be.

  Mama is going to Giverny tomorrow to help Raymonde pack our things. Then on to Paris to buy clothes for New York. She says New Yorkers are crazy for anything with a French label in it, and she’ll have the “crème de la crème,” the best of the best. I hope she finds a beautiful dress for me. I bet she will!

  April 29, 1894

  The Grands Sables beach

  Le Pouldu, Brittany

  Today we finally saw Monsieur Gauguin! He was sitting on a rock at the top of the cliffs along the beach. The wind caught his black cape—he looked like a huge bat hunched over his sketchbook. Maybe even a vampire!

  Papa told me Monsieur Gauguin likes to say, “I close my eyes to see.” That means he paints from his imagination. He doesn’t set up his easel outdoors to paint what’s before him the way the Impressionists do. He takes his sketchbook back to the studio and makes his paintings there. Not only that, he won’t mix colors and paint things as they really look—he doesn’t care about that. He uses pure color, right from the tube.

  When Monsieur Gauguin saw us looking at him, he put his sketchbook under his arm and marched away. “Now there’s a man who doesn’t want to be bothered,” said Papa.

  May 2, 1894

  The Buvette de la Plage

  Le Pouldu, Brittany

  Papa excused himself before dessert tonight to work on his painting. I wasn’t ready to leave the dining room—not with Monsieur Gauguin at the next table! And Marie Poupée’s “Crêpes Sauterelles” still to come for dessert. She calls them “Grasshopper Crêpes” because they jump high in the air when she flips the pan to turn them over. Then she fills them with pears cooked in sugar and butter. Yummy!

  I knew Monsieur Gauguin was a woodcarver as well as a painter, but I was surprised to see he had carved geese and cherries on his “sabots,” his wooden shoes. And painted the geese white with yellow feet, and the cherries bright red!

  Monsieur Gauguin is mean. He doesn’t like dogs very much—and dogs don’t like him! When he stood up to leave, Toby growled. Monsieur Gauguin raised his cane as if to hit Toby, then marched out of the room. His cane is carved, too–green frogs and a serpent with a twisty red tongue.

  I want to tell Papa, but that will have to wait. He’s busy making a painting of the cottage we pass on our way down to the beach. He says that, although it may seem easy, it’s really very difficult to choose colors that are different from the ones in the landscape and still have them look convincing on the canvas, as if they belong there. I think I’ll try that myself.

  May 4, 1894

  The Buvette de la Plage

  Le Pouldu, Brittany

  On my breakfast tray this morning was an envelope addressed to “Mademoiselle Charlotte.” With this mysterious note inside.

  I asked Marie Poupée whom it was from. “Aucune idée!”—No idea!—she said, and hurried out. I can’t wait to show it to Lizzy. Now I have to hurry. We’re off to Le Havre to catch the ship to New York. It takes two whole days to get there, and Papa wants to get an early start.

  Le Mont-Saint-Michel

  By the side of the road

  Somewhere in France

  I’m glad we stopped to change horses. I can’t write in the coach—Toby likes to sit on my lap and look out the window. We just saw a fairy castle rising out of the sea. Papa says it’s really a village called Le Mont-Saint-Michel. When the tide comes in, the village is surrounded by water. When the tide goes back out, there’s nothing but quicksand all around. The fishermen must know where it’s safe to wade—at least I hope they do!

  May 5, 1894

/>   The Ferme St. Siméon

  Honfleur, Normandy

  No wonder Papa chose this hotel. Lots of painters stay here, including our neighbor in Giverny, Monsieur Monet! I saw him playing dominoes under the apple trees. When I told him I’m going to New York, he said he had never been. And would I bring him back “un petit quelque chose”—a little something. I promised I would. Papa says you can find anything under the sun in New York. What will I find, I wonder?

  Honfleur harbor at low tide

  May 8, 1894

  On board the Champagne

  Somewhere at sea

  I was so happy to see everyone at the dock, especially Lizzy. And Mama brought Raymonde! I would have missed her cooking if she had stayed behind in Giverny. When I asked if she would miss France, she said, “pas du tout,”—not at all—she’s on her way to “l’Amérique”!

  Raymonde and I are sharing a cabin. Every day, she teaches me some French words, and I teach her some English ones. Toby and I have the upper bunk. I didn’t want to put him in the ship’s kennel, so I hid him in Mama’s hatbox when we came on board. When the coast is clear, Lizzy and I walk him on deck. And we feed him scraps from the table. We put them in our napkins when no one’s looking!

  I’ve already met my first New Yorkers: Mr. and Mrs. Havemeyer. They’re on their way back to New York with paintings they bought in Paris. They must be very rich. Papa says Mr. Havemeyer is called the “Sugar King.” That’s because he owns a sugar company. But he certainly isn’t sweet, in spite of his name. When Lizzy and I were singing on deck this morning, he snapped his newspaper and told us to be quiet.

  Mrs. Havemeyer is nice, though. She is a good friend of the famous American artist Miss Mary Cassatt and owns a lot of her paintings. She says Miss Cassatt often paints pictures of mothers and children and showed us a small one of her with her daughter, Electra. She says Miss Cassatt gets so seasick she has to be carried off the ship when it docks. Even when it’s a calm crossing! Poor Miss Cassatt!

  May 13, 1894

  On board the Champagne

  Lizzy and I have been all over this ship looking for a lady holding a lamp and a book. We’ve seen many ladies holding books, but all the lamps are nailed (or fastened) down in case of rough weather.

  When I got dressed for dinner tonight, Papa said I looked pretty as a picture. Then he painted a quick picture of me. I asked if it would be in the exhibition. He said no, this painting is not for sale. I’m glad—I’m wearing a dress Mama brought me from Paris, the frilly white one with the black velvet sash.

  It’s our last night at sea, and the captain invited the Fosters and us to dine at his table. He’s very handsome in his navy blue uniform with lots of gold braid. When Mama held up a pearl she found in one of her oysters, he said, “Beauty contemplates beauty,” and made her blush.

  Raymonde and Toby are fast asleep. I hope I can sleep, too. We’ll sail past the Statue of Liberty at dawn—I don’t want to miss that! Papa says the statue is a present from the people of France to the people of the United States. And the skeleton of steel that holds her up was designed by Monsieur Gustave Eiffel, the man who built the Eiffel Tower.

  Goodnight, fishes in the sea.

  Good morning, Statue of Liberty!

  May 14, 1894

  New York harbor

  The ship’s whistles woke us this morning. Everyone was on deck to be the first to see the Statue of Liberty. It was so foggy, I was afraid we’d sail right past without even seeing her! Then Papa whispered, “Look for the light in her lamp.” All at once I saw it. “There she is!” I cried. As we got closer, the fog lifted, and we saw the biggest statue in the world. Fifteen stories high, with an island all to herself to stand on! Monsieur Bartholdi, the sculptor, made her out of copper and gave her his mother’s face—a very beautiful one.

  As we sailed by, I saw she was holding a lamp in one hand and a book in the other! Then Lizzy shouted, “There’s New York!” And I saw the city straight ahead. As we got closer, we saw that New York has the busiest harbor, the biggest ships, the tallest masts and the most flags flying. And the longest bridge in the world, the Brooklyn Bridge. More than a million people live in New York, and now I’ll be one of them!

  Later the same day

  Mr. Chase’s studio

  Tenth Street, New York

  There were so many people at the dock, it looked as if all of New York had come to meet us. Even so, we had no trouble spotting Papa’s old friend Mr. William Merritt Chase. He was wearing a red Arab hat (a “fez,” Papa says!) and a long black cape, lined with crimson. Beside him stood two enormous dogs—Russain wolfhounds—as white as snow. Toby wanted to play, but they looked down their long noses at him.

  Mr. Chase has found an apartment for us to share with the Fosters. We haven’t seen that yet—the carriage brought us here instead. I’ve never had such an exciting ride! Lizzy and I loved it. Mama is still trying to catch her breath. Everybody is in a hurry—carriages, omnibuses, bicycles and coaches race at full speed, ringing bells. Our carriage, with four shiny black horses, galloped past them all! And trains run high overhead. I never saw that before! They clang and screech and leave a trail of sparks and ashes on the street below. Papa says the train is called “the el” (for “elevated”) and that it runs so close to the buildings, you can look out the train window and see what people are having for dinner.

  Mama tells me that Mr. Chase’s studio is the talk of the town, and no wonder! Everywhere are costumes of velvet and silk, sparkling jewels, masks and marionettes, paintings and tapestries—even a big swan with a black beak and a pink flamingo (stuffed!). Not only that, Mr. Chase does more than paint in here—he gives parties and hires a beautiful Spanish dancer to entertain his guests. Her name is Carmencita, but people call her “The Pearl of Seville.” Best of all, Mr. Chase told Papa he won’t be needing the studio this summer—he’ll be teaching at a painting school on Long Island. Papa can have the studio all to himself.

  May 19, 1894

  24 Fifth Avenue

  New York

  Lizzy and I can’t wait to explore New York. From the window, we see that everybody has someplace special to go and something special to do. Everybody except us. Papa and Mr. Foster went to buy painting supplies. Mama and Mrs. Foster are going to the opera tonight and need their beauty rest. And Raymonde is still unpacking the trunks. When we asked her to come for a walk with us, she said, “Il faut patienter.” But we can’t be patient. We decided to take Toby for a walk and be back before anyone noticed we had gone.

  When we got to Mr. Chase’s studio, it started to rain. I knocked on the door. There was no answer. As I pushed the door open, a man shouted from inside, “Hold it! Stop right there!” And we did! We didn’t move a muscle for a very long time. Then we peeked in. We saw two girls, standing as still as can be. And, on the other side of the room, Mr. Chase working at his easel. He was painting their portrait.

  Later, Cosy Chase, who is our age, told us her father often makes her and her sisters stop in the middle of a game to pose. She doesn’t mind, though. She even wears a bit of red every day just in case. Mr. Chase likes a touch of red in all his paintings.

  Suddenly there was a loud clap of thunder. Quick as a wink, Toby was out the door and up the street. I was afraid we’d never catch him! But a tall woman—I couldn’t see her face, it was so dark—picked him up and held him until we caught up. Then she hailed a carriage and told the driver to take us home. I said, “Thank you, Mrs. . . .” “Miss,” she said, “Miss Cassatt.” We were so surprised!

  When we rang our doorbell, Raymonde answered. She took muddy Toby down to the kitchen for a good scrubbing. “Ne vous inquietez-pas!”—Don’t worry!—she said, and promised not to tell.

  June 1, 1894

  24 Fifth Avenue

  New York

  The Fosters had to leave yesterday for Boston. Mr. Foster has business there. I miss Lizzy already!

  I hope they’re back in time for the Havemeyers’ ball. A foot
man brought our invitation on a silver tray. Mama has talked of nothing else since she heard about it. And she still hasn’t decided what costume to wear! I’m going to be Mademoiselle La La, the famous acrobat at the circus in Paris. The dressmaker is making me a sparkly dress and, for Toby the circus dog, polka-dot pantaloons and a pointy hat to match.

  The Casino Restaurant

  Central Park

  New York

  Papa and I are having lunch with his friend from Boston, Mr. Maurice Prendergast. We met here in Central Park. It took a while to find him; there were so many people. He was finishing a watercolor. Quickly, he painted me in it. My pink parasol, too!

  On our way here, we passed fields of sheep and goats. We saw camels, too. When the grass gets high, they hitch a camel to a mowing machine and put it to work.

  At the menagerie we saw a fat hippopotamus and a buffalo bison named Black Diamond. And elephants belonging to Mr. P. T. Barnum. He keeps them there when his circus isn’t traveling. The big birdcage was filled with brightly colored parrots from faraway places. They squawked and screeched so loudly, Mr. Prendergast had to shout to give us news of Monsieur Gauguin. He has sailed away to the South Seas to paint and lives on a sunny island called Tahiti. “Au revoir, Monsieur Gauguin!” Goodbye!

  June 16, 1894

  24 Fifth Avenue

  New York

  Tonight was the most special night ever! I’m going to write down everything that happened so I can tell Lizzy about it. Papa was Buffalo Bill. Mama, the beautiful French queen Marie Antoinette. She wore a white powdered wig and a dress so enormous that Papa and I had to stuff her into the carriage. Then there was no room for us! We didn’t mind—we sat up top with the driver. He said he would show us the tallest buildings we had ever seen—and he did! They’re called “skyscrapers,” after the tallest mast on a ship, the one that seems to scrape the sky. Everywhere the carriage went, people stared at us. Papa said it’s because Toby barks so loudly, and anyway it’s not every day you see a dog wearing pantaloons and a pointy hat, even in New York! But I know better—they thought we were Buffalo Bill and Mademoiselle La La!