Charlotte in New York Read online

  The walls at the Havemeyers’ are covered with paintings, just like a museum. I saw five of Monsieur Monet’s haystack paintings all in a row. When I asked Mrs. Havemeyer why she had so many paintings of the same scene, she said she couldn’t make up her mind which one to keep. She smiled when I told her how I peeked over Monsieur Monet’s shoulder when he painted those haystacks back in Giverny and how sweet the hay smelled in the hot sun.

  When we got to the ballroom, I saw Mrs. Havemeyer’s daughter, Electra. I recognized her from the painting Mrs. Havemeyer showed us on the ship. She was wearing a sparkly white dress and a diamond tiara. I guessed she was a princess, but she said she was an electric light! Then she said the dance floor had been polished with oatmeal that morning and did I want to see her glide across it? Before I could answer, she slid across the shiny floor and disappeared into the crowd of dancers.

  All at once, Toby jumped out of my arms and ran to a tall woman wearing a mask of blue-black feathers. She might have been a raven—I couldn’t tell. She bent down to pick Toby up, and he covered her with kisses. It was Miss Cassatt! Mama said she had never known Toby to behave that way with a complete stranger. Then the “complete stranger” handed him back to me with a smile—and a wink, I think. I couldn’t be sure with all those feathers.

  That’s when I saw the Statue of Liberty! And, beside her, a sea captain not much taller than I, with gold braid on his white hat and jacket. When I got closer, I saw the sea captain was Hippolyte! He laughed at my surprise and told me that he’s the one who put the note on my breakfast tray in Brittany. In fact, he and his uncle, Monsieur Durand-Ruel, travel to New York so often, they keep a boat here. And would I like to see it?

  Just then, out came the Pearl of Seville. She danced and twirled, and when it was over, people threw flowers and money at her feet. Bracelets, too! Papa says the famous portrait painter Mr. John Singer Sargent had a difficult time when he set out to paint her portrait—he couldn’t get her to stand still!

  June 26, 1894

  On the lake in Central Park

  Monsieur Durand-Ruel came for me this morning in a shiny red carriage pulled by a high-stepping black horse with red feathers in its mane. He said Hippolyte had gone to the yacht club and that he would take me there. But first he needed to stop at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

  The Metropolitan Museum of Art

  No museum is as large as the Louvre in Paris, but the Metropolitan Museum of Art comes close! While Monsieur Durand-Ruel talked to the curator, I explored. Before I knew it, I was alone in a great hall filled with paintings and sculptures as far as I could see. Just when I thought I would never find my way back to Monsieur Durand-Ruel, he and the curator came around the corner. When I asked if there were any paintings by Monsieur Monet, Monsieur Durand-Ruel said, “Not yet—but there will be soon. We were just talking about that.”

  the sailboat pond

  When we got to the carriage, Monsieur Durand-Ruel told the driver to take us to Central Park. I was surprised—I thought we were on our way to the river for a sail! The carriage stopped by a little pond with toy sailboats on it. All at once, I saw Hippolyte with a long stick, lining up a sailboat for the start of a race. “So this is the boat they keep in New York,” I thought to myself. All at once, the boats’ sails filled with wind, someone shouted, “They’re off!” and Hippolyte waved to me.

  After the race, I told Hippolyte I can sail a real sailboat. Even at night. I know how to find my way by the stars. Papa taught me at Appledore Island. When I asked if I could sail his boat, Hippolyte said girls aren’t allowed—the yacht club is for men only. I must have looked disappointed. “Allons-y,”—Let’s go—he said, and led me to a big lake with rowboats for rent.

  Hippolyte says even the lakes and ponds in Central Park are man-made. There was nothing here but swampy land until Mr. Calvert Vaux and Mr. Frederick Law Olmsted designed meadows, gardens and woodlands with roads, tunnels and bridges. It took 3,600 men to build it all!

  Now we’re letting the boat drift while Hippolyte looks for fish. All the rowboats are named after flowers. Ours is called Violet. I wish this day would never end. . . .

  July 20, 1894

  24 Fifth Avenue

  New York

  Raymonde says, “Il fait chaud, chaud, chaud,” and it is hot, hot, hot. When I got to the studio today, Papa was painting in his underwear. He told me he was painting from memory. “Thinking of cooler climes,” he added. When I asked what that meant, he turned the canvas toward me. It was Marie Poupée and her dog Limouzin. Papa was remembering the cool sea air in Le Pouldu and how Limouzin would run to greet everyone who came to stay at the inn under the pines. All at once, Papa put his paintbrush down. “Enough of this heat,” he said. “Appledore Island, here we come!”

  I ran home to tell Mama and Raymonde, and when I got there, I found a postcard waiting for me. From Lizzy. From Appledore!

  On the back it says:

  Windswept cottage, Appledore Island.

  Everybody misses you. Me most of all! When are you coming?

  Love, Lizzy

  There isn’t time to write her back. She’ll be so surprised to see me!

  When I told Hippolyte we were going to Appledore, he said he and Monsieur Durand-Ruel were off to San Francisco. Then he pulled an egg from his pocket. “It’s so hot,” he said, “I can fry this on the sidewalk.” An he did! We put the egg on a plate to cool, and Toby gobbled it up. I have so much to tell Lizzy. . . .

  August 1, 1894

  Appledore Island

  The Isles of Shoals

  I’m so happy to be back in Appledore! To get here, we had to take a train from New York to Boston, then another from Boston to Portsmouth, New Hampshire. When we stepped from the train at Portsmouth harbor, a gust of wind came up and blew our hats into the water. We didn’t mind—we could smell salt air and hear gulls screeching overhead. And see the steamboat Pinafore waiting to take us out to Appledore.

  When we got to our cottage, Raymonde opened the shutters and windows and let the sunshine in. We haven’t been here for two years, but everything looks just the same. Toby and I raced to the Fosters’. He got there first and leapt into Lizzy’s arms. She was so glad to see us!

  Tonight we went to Appledore House for dinner. Everyone was there, including the poet Mrs. Celia Thaxter with her houseguests. She always has lots of those—artists, other poets and musicians, mostly. Raymonde said the clam chowder was “beau et bon”—beautiful to look at and good to eat. Then she disappeared into the kitchen and came out with the recipe for the chowder and the peach crisp!

  After dinner, we sat by the fire and listened to island stories. One was about a ghost who haunts the hotel, an old lady who warms her toes by the fire. Then Mrs. Thaxter told us about a wild storm they had when she was a girl, when her father was the lighthouse keeper here—the wind was so strong, they had to bring the cow into the kitchen so she wouldn’t blow out to sea!

  August 12, 1894

  Appledore Island

  The Isles of Shoals

  I went to meet the mail boat this morning and saw a strange-looking package for Mrs. Thaxter—a box of dirt with wire across the top. I told the mailman I’d take it straight to her.

  Mr. Childe Hassam

  When I got to Mrs. Thaxter’s house, Papa’s old friend Mr. Childe Hassam was on the porch. He was signing his name to a painting he had just finished. Next to it, he put a red crescent moon. When I asked if he knew where Mrs. Thaxter was, he said, “Try the parlor.”

  There were so many flowers in the room that I couldn’t see her at first. Then I spotted her. She was lying down, reading a book. When I handed her the box, she exclaimed, “Come with me!” and took me out to her garden.

  “Poor, dry, dusty creatures,” she said as she put the box down and sprinkled it with water from a watering can. All at once, I heard the high peeping sound of many little voices. She removed the wire and turned the box on its side. Out hopped what must have been a hundred t
iny toads. “I ordered them from the mainland,” she said, “to feast on my pesky slugs. Before long, the toads will grow as large as apples, and there won’t be a single slug left in my garden.” Now I know why I saw toads for sale at markets in France!

  Mrs. Thaxter loves poppies, too, and has lots of different kinds.

  I told her how I sowed poppy seeds Monsieur Monet gave me over the snow in my garden in Giverny. She said that in February, when it’s still very cold, she plants poppies, too. But she plants them this way:

  Half-fill a shallow box with sand. Set rows of empty eggshells close together in the sand, each shell cut off at one end, wita a drainage hole at the bottom. Fill the shells with clean earth and sow a poppy seed in each. Keep damp and place in a sunny window. When seedlings are ready to plant in spring, gently remove the shell from the earth so as not to disturb the roots. Plant in the ground and water.

  August 17, 1894

  Appledore Island

  The Isles of Shoals

  Today at the ledges, Papa introduced me to Mr. J. Appleton Brown. He comes every summer to give painting lessons to Mrs. Thaxter. Papa says everybody calls him “Appleblossom Brown” because he likes to paint apple orchards. I wonder if I’ll have a nickname one day for what I like to paint best.

  He was making a watercolor, and Papa and I set up our easels. I squeezed the colors of Appledore onto my palette:

  Tonight we’re having a clambake on Smuttynose Island. Lizzy and I will find driftwood for the fire. Seaweed, too, for steaming lobsters and clams. I heard everybody is coming—they’re bringing out the whaleboats to ferry people across the channel. But we’ll sail out in our little boat, the Skimmer. Papa is down in the cove getting her ready. I’d better hurry! He wants to leave on the tide.

  September 7, 1894

  24 Fifth Avenue

  New York

  Papa and Mr. Foster are so excited about the paintings they made in Appledore that we all rushed back to New York so they could include them in the exhibition. I don’t mind a bit—the circus is in town! This morning, Raymonde took Lizzy and me to Madison Square to see the parade, and what a parade it was! “Four hundred horses, twenty elephants and one thousand performers,” a policeman next to us shouted over the brass band, “nothing like it anywhere else in the world.” When it was over, the parade marched into Madison Square Garden and disappeared.

  Madison Square Garden

  Tonight we went to the performance. The policeman was right! I’ve never seen such a big circus—three rings, two stages and a ceiling full of acrobats, all going on at once! I didn’t know which way to look. Raymonde said, “C’est formidable!”—that’s terrific!—over and over again. And it was.

  I even found something at the circus for Monsieur Monet—a new American candy called Good and Plenty. It’s delicious, and he won’t find it in Paris!

  October 10, 1894

  24 Fifth Avenue

  New York

  Tonight was the exhibition. It was a big success! Lots of paintings sold, including Papa’s paintings from Brittany and Appledore. Monsieur Durand-Ruel looked very pleased, and he invited everybody to dinner at Delmonico’s afterward. Mama was excited because President Cleveland was there. Lizzy and I didn’t care about him—the famous reporter Miss Nellie Bly was at the next table. She took a trip around the world in just seventy-two days, the fastest time ever—a world record! She traveled by ship, train, horse, rickshaw, tugboat, sampan and donkey. I have the “Around the World with Nellie Bly” board game.

  Monsieur Durand-Ruel ordered oysters and champagne for the table. Mr. Hassam made a toast to “Our art and our travels!” And Mr. Louis Sonntag raised his glass to “the great city of New York and all who paint her!” Everybody cheered and clinked glasses. Mr. Prendergast told us that when Mr. Sonntag was only thirteen, he made a painting of the Brooklyn Bridge, and it was exhibited at the National Academy of Design.

  I drank my champagne but gave my oysters to Hippolyte. After that, we had “lobster à la Newburg.” And, for dessert, “baked Alaska.” “La spécialité de la maison!”—the specialty of the house—said Monsieur Durand-Ruel. And no wonder, with yummy ice cream and sponge cake on the inside and flaming meringue on the outside. While Mr. and Mrs. Havemeyer were busy talking, Electra ordered three more for our end of the table!

  When we got home, Papa and Mama stayed up late talking. I tried to stay awake so I could hear what they were saying. But I couldn’t, and when I came to breakfast there was a painting of me sound asleep in the parlor. Papa must have stayed up all night to paint that. No wonder he’s still asleep!

  Thanksgiving Day, 1894

  24 Fifth Avenue, New York

  For days, Raymonde has talked of nothing but “dindon,” “patates” and “tarte à la citrouille.”

  She never cooked a Thanksgiving dinner before, and everything was delicious. Bravo, Raymonde! “Bien fait!” Well done!

  Papa’s friend from Giverny, Mr. Theodore Butler, came along with the Fosters. He’s Monsieur Monet’s son-in-law. He’s in New York on a painting trip, and Papa invited him to dinner. He brought some paintings to show (I loved the one of the Statue of Liberty!). And news of Monsieur Monet—he’s off to paint in Norway in January. The Norwegian queen asked him to come!

  When Mr. Butler left, I gave him the Good and Plenty candies to take back to Monsieur Monet. I wrote the label in my best handwriting:

  I hope he likes them as much as I think he will!

  The next day

  When I woke up this morning, Mr. Butler’s painting was hanging on my wall! I rushed downstairs to ask Papa about it. He reminded me of the foggy morning we sailed into New York harbor and how I had been the one to see the lady with the lamp and book before anyone else did. “Now she’s yours to see any time you want,” he said. Thank you, Papa!

  Central Park in Winter

  December 1, 1894

  24 Fifth Avenue

  New York

  Today we had our first snowfall. Mama and I went ice-skating in Central Park. On our way home, we saw Mr. Hassam waving to us from his carriage. He asked Mama if she would mind standing still a moment. “For a quick sketch,” he said. Mama didn’t mind a bit. Later she told me she was glad she had decided on her favorite Paris coat that day—the pink with white fur.

  I peeked inside the carriage and saw that it was filled with painting supplies. Back in Giverny, Monsieur Monet paints in a studio-boat on the river Epte. Here in New York, Mr. Hassam paints in his carriage! When he sees something he wants to paint, he tells the driver to rein in the horses. Then he gets to work. That’s how he came to paint a beautiful picture of Mama walking home through the snow.

  Papa says he might use the money from the exhibition for a painting trip to England. He hears the light there is like no other. Besides, Mama wants to have her portrait painted by Mr. John Singer Sargent, who lives there. I have to talk to Lizzy about this!

  But first I need to buy a new journal. I’ve already filled this one up, and our adventure has barely begun. . . .

  CREDITS

  In order of journal entry

  April 15, 1894

  Berthe Morisot (1841–1895)

  Interior of a Cottage, 1886.

  Oil on canvas, 20 × 24 inches.

  Musée d’Ixelles, Brussels, Fritz Toussaint Collection.

  April 15, 1894

  John Singer Sargent (1856–1925)

  Young Boy on the Beach, Sketch for “Oyster Gatherers of Cancale,” 1877.

  Oil on canvas, 17¼ × 10¼ inches.

  Terra Foundation for American Art, Daniel J. Terra Collection, 1999.132. Photograph courtesy of Terra Foundation for American Art.

  April 24, 1894

  Reconstruction of the dining room at the Buvette de la Plage. Photograph courtesy of the Association des Amis de la Maison Marie Henry, Le Pouldu.

  April 29, 1894

  Paul Gauguin (1848–1903)

  Breton Girls Dancing, Pont-Aven, 1888.

  Oil on ca
nvas, 28¾ × 36½ inches.

  Collection of Mr. and Mrs. Paul Mellon.

  Image © 2005 Board of Trustees, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

  May 2, 1894

  Paul Sérusier (1863–1927)

  Thatched Cottage with Three Ponds, 1889–90.

  Oil on canvas, 28¾ × 36¼ inches.

  Private collection.

  May 8, 1894

  Mary Cassatt (1844–1926)

  Portrait of Louisine Havemeyer and Her Daughter Electra, 1895.

  Pastel on paper, 24 × 30½ inches.

  Copyright © Shelburne Museum, Shelburne, Vermont.

  May 13, 1894

  William Merritt Chase (1849–1916)

  Dorothy, 1902.

  Oil on canvas, 72 × 36 inches.

  Indianapolis Museum of Art, John Herron Fund.

  May 19, 1894