Charlotte in New York (5 page)

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!

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. . . .