Note on chapter 58 :
There will still be one chapter devoted to the Centennial, because there are too many exciting things - at least for me, both in the historical reconstruction of the 1876 exhibition, but also in the plot and the clues that advance at the pace of Surrey...
As in the previous chapter, the locations and descriptions of the stands, and brands presented are true to life. Of course, my imagination has extrapolated the details, but everything is in keeping with the reality of the exhibition. With the notable exception of the paintings Duncan is looking at.
If you want to see the pictures illustrating this chapter, check my blog !
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Chapter 58. Centenary of Philadelphia 1876, 2. Treasure hunt between the French Pavilion and Brazil!
Wednesday 21 July 1876, 9am, Main Exhibition Building, Philadelphia Centennial
"There are ten of us with the two coachmen." Barnabee held out a ten-dollar note bearing the likeness of Daniel Webster.
The employee, dressed in a uniform bearing the Centennial coat of arms, was one of dozens of security guards responsible for screening one of the thirteen entrances to the exhibition grounds, collecting the 50-cent admission fee and issuing a ticket valid for a single passage .
Pedestrians leaving trolleys and omnibuses used other controlled doors equipped with turnstiles. The same payment system was organized for users of trains and shuttles arriving at the Pennsylvania Railroad depot.
Many had arrived early, but by 9 o'clock the horse-drawn carriages had already jammed up in front of the gates, foreshadowing a long wait.
Barnabee had gone round the queue to take a side path without anyone interfering. He showed an admission pass.
Immediately, the employee's attitude changed. He raised his cap reverently in the direction of the man in the second Surray, and said to the Vayton butler: "With this Personnality-permit, you don't need to...".
Barnabee cut him off: "Have a nice day!" The employee thought his day had started well, as Barnabee refused to take the extra five dollars.
As Scarlett was questioning him with her eyes, Duncan explained flatly: "The Centennial committee sent it to me. It is one of those useless little privileges that certain positions confer. I would not have used it, but Thunder of Georgia cannot be deterred by anyone, or a queue."
On the way, Scarlett's attention was drawn to the sculptures and fountains scattered in green settings along the winding lanes.
Duncan spoke clearly so that the two women in the front seats could hear him too: "Later we are going to take a closer look at them in the still-breathable morning air. That's why we are not going to linger in the Main Building."
When they were inside, but with a different perspective of the hall than the day before, he raised his arm emphatically in the direction of the entrance to the French Pavilion. This was marked by two gigantic glass panels joined by a welcoming arch bearing the emblems of the Compagnie St. Gobain, the flagship of the glass industry. From their fifteen-meter heights, they transformed the product display units into trimmings for Lilliputians: "This morning will be one of the last occasions when you can be tempted by all sorts of frivolities, because afterwards we will explore other wonders, but less commercial ones. So, ladies, welcome to your kingdom!"
How else to describe this temple dedicated primarily to women, their femininity and the embellishment of her home's environment?
As he had done the day before, Duncan had chosen to eliminate certain stands from the plan of their visit so that 'his' women would not have to take any unnecessary steps. But it was a difficult decision to make, as it was likely that everything would appeal to women. Therefore only one booth was neglected, that of large religious statues for churches and private chapels.
Scarlett did not stop in front of the French furniture. "Someone's" criticisms of her lack of taste in decoration were forever branded in her mind.
Eager to see the women's eyes sparkle as they had the day before, he directed them first to the jeweller Boucheron, and then to the stand of Lilliputian watches. Duncan's smile widened when he saw that Ella and Cathleen were equally enthralled by a piece of art: a small dial, no bigger than a coin, was hidden under the wing of a small pheasant, whose golden feathers were covered in a thick layer of diamonds.
Next, the mistress of the house at Magnolias Mansion set her sights on the bouquets of artificial flowers, tastefully reconstituted with an array of tiny colored glass beads.
What could the Georgian say, what could she do, given all the temptations before her eyes? Scarlett was immediately seduced by the perfumer Roure et Bertrand, based in Grasse in the South of France. Under Duncan's amused eye, she almost tested Mr Roure's patience by trying to inhale a dozen caps of essence of perfume that smelt of Provence with its extracts of mimosa and lavender. With a flourish of her famous dimples, she even asked to try the essential oil of rose.
The opportunity for the man in love was too good to resist, especially as his mother and sister were now contemplating the Aubusson tapestries. With the self-confidence of the husband who alone has the right to show tenderness in public, he grabbed the blown glass bottle. To reassure the merchant, he said straight out: "I am buying this one". He moistened the skin of his index finger with the precious drops. Then, the irises of a cloudless sky and those of a calm lake merged as he started to apply the foam of crushed roses to the fine skin of the inside of the young woman's wrist with a slow, steady rubbing motion.
The shopkeeper had withdrawn discreetly. Under the expert caress, Scarlett felt her heart race and a pleasant warmth flow through her body. This warmth increased a degree when he murmured: "So tender... I cannot wait to impregnate other centimeters of even more tender and secret skin with these delicate scents..."
Holding back a sigh, Scarlett diplomatically withdrew her hand from the burning grip and gestured to the Frenchman. But she did not miss Duncan's reflex as he ran the index finger that had just made her shiver over his lips.
She bought several bottles of mimosa and lavender, telling Duncan that she wanted one for her friend Taisy Bennett and another for Mammy. She chose a smaller bottle for her head saleswoman Emma Whising, who was running the Robillard's Boutique in her absence.
With each other's purchases paid for, and the merchant's catalogues pocketed, they set about inspecting the range of French textiles together, this time officially for mutual professional benefit.
The Master of Haute Couture also shared his expertise with Cathleen and Melina. As usual, Ella joined her mother, admiring the beautiful lace that would have been worthy of dressing her new doll. Poor Wade had deserted this futile world - which made him blush a little. Closely followed by Barnabee, he went through the display of the latest models of French cars, renowned for their elegance - but not suitable for crossing the plains of the Far West.
The laces of Calais and the expensive silk velvets of the prestigious Lyon factories were commented on animatedly, insisting on details that only Duncan was qualified to note. He thought it unnecessary to point out that these manufacturers were - or dreamed of becoming - suppliers to La Mode Duncan.
There was also a window display of Lenoir's lingerie. Scarlett had to censor herself not to touch - and buy the silk stockings with lace inserts at the instep. Its flagship products, alluring corsets, were scandalously evocative because they were presented on molded cardboard busts that accentuated the generous cut-outs in the cups. Melina approached them, but Scarlett thought it prudent, after the troubled episode with the perfume, to avoid stopping there, especially as her personal 'guide' was not leaving her side. My heart has throbbed enough for one morning...
A sign proclaiming "Augustine Vasseur, 244 Rue de la Paix, Paris" attracted her like a moth caught in the light. The latest Parisian fashions were on display. Rich brocades, curved and draped gowns... Scarlett thought that some of them would suit her perfectly. She mischievously imagined the confusion these dresses would cause Ashley when he invited her to the theatre. One in particular would be perfect, with its spray of rose bouquets applied to the silk, running from her décolletage to the hemline. "5,000 dollars!" she exclaimed, not realizing that La Mode Duncan's haute couture creations were worth at least ten times that amount. Obviously, spending a fortune on her hard-earned money was out of the question for the fashion-addict woman. She confided to her neighbor: "They are pretty, but who cares about their Parisian label? Their cut is commonly vulgar compared to your Vayton Ready-to-Wear masterpieces!" The designer of the latter was delighted with the compliment.
She scorned the other products of this Parisian merchant, whom she was not far from calling a swindler with his prohibitive prices. No doubt his hats, artfully scattered on two other shelves, were of the same ilk. Except that..." This hatbox..." She did not realize she had spoken out loud.
Duncan followed her gaze. Printed in grey and white stripes, it was nothing special. The graphics were a little pompous, as the shop's coat of arms was staged like the opening of a theatre curtain. He read out loud: "Salon des Dames, Rue de la Paix, Paris". (*2) This brand name was familiar to him, as the milliner's shop was just ten buildings away from his workshop and the one of Charles Frederick Worth.
Scarlett's behavior intrigued him, however. She was standing motionless, her jade eyes wide open as if she was having trouble deciphering the letters on the sign.
"Scarlett! You seem surprised! Does that name mean anything to you?"
She could not articulate. Anyway, why explain that this box was in every way similar to the one Prissy had put on top of the highest shelf in her bedroom armoire when she returned from Charleston last February? Of course, the one in the window was perfectly rounded, with intact varnish protecting the silver motifs, whereas hers was dented and tarnished by time. So much time! Thirteen years. Just before the Battle of Gettysburg... So this shop was the one where Rhett had bought her stylish hat. The hat she kept like a precious fetish. While the salesman from the Salon des Dames was getting to know the American clientele in Philadelphia, Rhett was on his way to Paris. Was he going to stop at Rue de la Paix to buy a new hat for his mistress? That Clementina? The hussy who had bewitched him so much that he went to meet her in her bedroom, still warm from the smell of his former wife? The prostitute with whom he had...
Her eyebrows drew together. She squared her shoulders and called authoritatively to the representative of the Salon des Dames: "Please, Tell me what is the most expensive hat on your display."
The question surprised the Frenchman. He was used to being asked which cost the least. He pointed to what was more of a chignon ornament worn on gala evenings.
"It is lily of the valley customary in France to give it to lovers in May.
The stems were represented by green silk ribbons artistically folded. The lily of the valley bells were reconstituted with delicate ivory applications. In the middle, three tiny precious stones replaced the pistils. Emeralds, noticed Scarlett expertly. The price he announced was indeed in line with that of a quality jewel.
Duncan was always delighted to watch her skillfully negotiate every price. Therefore he did not understand why she decided to pay, without batting an eyelid, the highest price for that small headpiece.
How could he have guessed that Scarlett O'Hara was out for revenge? I do not need you any more, Rhett Butler, to give me the best of Paris! Save your money for your whores!
She regained her composure when the dealer carefully packed the headdress in a hatbox - the same as the one in the window, the same as the one in her wardrobe - only smaller. She insisted on carrying the bag containing her purchase, before leaving it in Barnabee's care.
Then everything was back to normal. Duncan came to ask what his mother and sister had liked. But he was surprised at how little they wanted to buy in this temple of femininity and temptation. Cathleen did please him by choosing a fine lace shawl for the autumn evenings.
"Mother, haven't you enjoyed this tour of miniature France? If you are tired, we can go back to the hotel, and never mind the Exhibition!"
Cathleen laid her hand tenderly on her son's arm: "No, please! The truth is that you and your father have spoilt me so much that I must admit I do not need much anymore. But it is such a gift from Heaven to be able to enjoy your presence as a family with Melina. Together with Scarlett and her lovely children, of course! Unfortunately, you have been so absorbed in your heavy workload that I do not get to see you enough. That's why I am savoring every minute of our stay in Philadelphia. If I dared, I would exclaim my delight at every stall. But I am afraid you would be all getting tired of it."
He laughed outright at the sight of the impeccable Lady of the South making inappropriate noises in public. His mother joined him - in moderation - in his fit of hilarity.
"Little sister, are we going to fill the varnish with everything that has tempted you in the French Pavilion?"
The corner of Melissa's lips barely lifted to mimic a smile.
What an unusual behavior from a young girl bursting with life... That worried immediately the devoted brother: "You are very quiet this morning. Are you sullen because we had to restrain your decision to buy the dinnerware set? As you understand, it was a symbolic purchase dedicated to the household you are going to form with Alexander Dean. Apart from that, the whole of France is at your disposal if you so wish! We will just have to put together a convoy of several wagons to repatriate all your desires."
Her brother's exaggerated tirade forced her to chuckle. "I do not think we are going to need it. I have just not the soul of an explorer this morning. I must be a bit tired."
"Well, so let us all get some rest before we leave this monstrous building and enjoy some fresh air."
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Wednesday 21 July 1876, 10.30am, on board the liner Ville de Bordeaux, in the Atlantic Ocean
How ironic! I, the sailor who only imagined true freedom on the deck of my boat, now I am spinning
around like a lion in a cage, in a hurry to get ashore on the quayside in Le Havre, take a little trip to Paris and set sail again straight away. This woman has shaken me to the core...
He was staring at the calm sea in the distance, as if the solution to his gloomy mood lay beyond the horizon.
He was so absorbed in his dark thoughts that he almost jumped when he heard a jovial voice: "Captain Butler, what a pleasure to bump into you!"
It was one of the men with whom he had spent an entertaining evening the night before. The red-haired man, Archibald Le Rouge. Thanks to his pleasant presence, at least he would be able to combat his boredom...
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Wednesday 21 July 1876, 10.30am, Main Exhibition Building, Fairmount Park, Philadelphia
As they exited the French pavilion, they found a charming place to relax. In the middle was a circular bandstand surrounded by a crown of stone columns. With its Renaissance style, the deceptive effect of being transported to the grounds of an 18th-century château was guaranteed.
Throughout Centennial, numerous musical attractions were programmed once or twice a day, both inside and outside the halls.
While the members of the small orchestra were climbing the four steps to the stage and set up their instruments, Duncan and his "beverages attendants" went to buy refreshments from a soda fountain.
The Vayton ladies and the children sat on one of the many benches occupied by passing music lovers. Duncan's good fortune was that he and Scarlett had to sit on another bench, "due to lack of space". Barnabee and Prissy occupied a bench further back, also happy to rest.
The musicians began to play compositions on the violin. Duncan whispered quietly to his neighbor: "One day, we shall go to Paris and stroll through the Tuileries Gardens while an orchestra plays Chopin in a bandstand carved with bronze lace. And I shall sing to you..."
His neighbor lowered her eyelids for a moment so that he could not see the disappointment that was assailing her. Someone else had promised to take me to Paris one day... She shook off this stupid nostalgia with a movement of her shoulder: "This this agenda is promising because you sing very well, according to my memory of the fashion show..." Her flattery was teasing, but she remembered hearing him hum "Lorena" while dancing the night away in the garden of La Mode Duncan.
He was about to reply in the same bantering tone when the first notes of a new piece played by the harp, violin and flute, made him frown. Inexplicably...
"What is it? Do you know this music, Duncan?"
"Yes. But it has been a long time since I have heard it perform."
She took no notice of his bored expression. "The tempo is romantic. If a little dramatic. Could you tell me more about it?"
As if reluctantly, he complied: "It is an old romance from the last century. It was re-orchestrated by Offenbach, then in '59 by Hector Berlioz. It became so popular that it was played in the Parisian salons that year when I moved to France."
The silence between them deepened, but not for long. Scarlett came back to the point, as his sudden chagrin intrigued her. "Do you remember the words?"
He swept the space in front of him with a wave of his hand to show his lack of interest in the subject: "Oh... It is the story of a young man who longs for love. His sweetheart has betrayed her oath of fidelity and left him for another man. He deduces that, while passion is fleeting, grief lasts a lifetime. Anyway, that is a rough summary."
All around them, people were listening attentively to the music, under the spell of French Romanticism, notwithstanding the commercial bustle of the Main Exhibition Hall.
Scarlett detected an underlying annoyance, totally unusual for Duncan in her presence. She made the connection with his absurd anger yesterday at a simple pebble, followed by his extravagant expenditure on a rock. Could the perfect Duncan have a few flaws?
Out of a habit of playing at probing men's hearts for amusement, she demanded, batting her eyelashes, "Sing it to me. Please!"
Wearily, he relinquished. In a low voice so that the bench next to them, led by the Vayton family, could not hear him, he faithfully followed the notes of the small orchestra and declaimed in a perfect French accent:
« Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment,
Chagrin d'amour dure toute la vie. »
"The pleasure of love only lasts for a moment,
Heartbreak lasts a lifetime.
I left everything for the ungrateful Sylvie.
She leaves me and takes another lover.
The pleasure of love only lasts for a moment,
Heartbreak lasts a lifetime.
As long as this water flows gently
To the stream that runs alongside the meadow,
I shall love you," Sylvie kept telling me,
The water is still flowing, but she has changed.
The pleasure of love only lasts for a moment,
Heartbreak lasts a lifetime."
He had begun the verse with indifference, concentrating simply on getting his voice right. By the time he got to the chorus, his tone slowed to a crawl, out of tune with the musicians. It became hesitant... shaky... His head was tilted back, his eyelids closed...
What is the matter with him? She delicately placed her fingers on his sleeve to see if he was feeling ill.
This had the immediate effect of snapping him out of his trance. His irises took on the hue of a calm sky. He shrugged his shoulders in disdain: "That is typical Old World nonsense. Only the French are foolish enough to extol eternal love, and especially sorrow which does not heal. Love is eternal, isn't it, my dear Scarlett? It is a merry waltz that intoxicates us... You are the merry waltz that intoxicates me..."
At last! The irresistible charmer is back. I prefer that. For a moment I thought he had turned into Ashley with his boring melancholy... As for the waltz of love, someone else taught me the steps. Until a few days ago, I naively thought it was going to be an happy one, but...
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Wednesday 21 July 1876, 11am, on board the liner Ville de Bordeaux, in the Atlantic Ocean
After discussing the progress made in recent years to improve Atlantic crossing times, the two men fell silent, basking in the contemplation of the sea, peaceful that morning under a radiant sun.
"What a magnificent spectacle nature is! We can stare at the same point on the horizon at different times of the day and in different seasons, but the landscape will be eternally renewed. At this moment, I am tempted to pick up my canvas and my brush and transform the foam that glistens before our eyes into an anthology of silver spots."
"Do you paint? Your description reminds me of a painting that hangs in my bedroom in Charleston. In it, the artist depicts a banal theme, that of the sun rising in the port of Le Havre. But his technique and mastery of color are such that he transforms the reflections of the rays in the water into a delicate gradation of green, blue and orange to convey an emotion, rather than describing reality. In fact, Monet named it 'Impression, Rising Sun'."
"Monet? Claude Monet?"
Rhett was surprised: "You have heard of him? What a coincidence! Well, Let me tell you that my ambition is to bring his work to America, as well as that of his friends, Renoir, Pissarro, Sisley, Cézanne, Edgar Degas, and others."
The mane of red curls waved back and forth. "I do not understand. How do you know all these people? They are all my friends!"
"Really?" It was Rhett's turn to be puzzled. "I met them in April '74 in a photographer's gallery (*4). That's when I came up with the idea of inviting them to the two museums I am opening in the autumn. Their style is highly innovative. As a result, they shock the fashionable neo-classicism, so much so that one art critic has nicknamed them the Impressionists, the better to denigrate them. My goodness! I think the term is a compliment and suits them perfectly!"
Archibald clutched his ribs in laughter. "Ha! Ha! The Impressionists, did you say? They must have liked that. We called ourselves the Cooperative company of painters, sculptors and engravers ', but that is a shorter name, and much more meaningful." He tried to regain some of his seriousness: "Captain Butler, you are looking at another one of those Impressionists!"
Rhett went from amazement to bewilderment.
"To be honest, we could have met, you and I, at Nadar's on the day of the exhibition's opening. In fact, one of my paintings was part of the collection on display. But I had to leave in a hurry to accept an invitation from an estate notary and pocket - excuse the trivial term - the inheritance of a very rich uncle with no descendants! I was stunned! An unknown relative who left France at a very young age to make his fortune in South America, isn't that worthy of a novel? So, without giving it a second thought, I abandoned my friends right in the middle of organizing the exhibition at Nadar's. I took a boat and left. For landing in Brazil!
They both still could not believe the chance meeting in the middle of the ocean. It was time to celebrate with a good bottle of wine. At least one bottle...
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Wednesday 21 July 1876, 11 a.m., Main Exhibition Building, Fairmount Park, Philadelphia
It was time to bring this musical interlude to an end. With a single nod in the direction of the next bench, Duncan signaled it was time to leave.
"Let's get out. I cannot wait to show you an amazing monument. You will not believe your eyes!"
They walked along the side aisle once more and were about to leave when Melina stopped. With no regard for good manners, she pointed to a gigantic Andalusian-style building that was anachronistic with the classicism of the United States.
What was most striking was the multitude of gaudy colors: yellow, green, but also touches of blue and red, were generously spread over the carved wood intermingled with multicolored glass tiles. The wooden construction seemed to defy the laws of architecture and gravity, which demand that the foundations be large enough to carry the upper floors. On the contrary, at first glance, only a string of colonnades supported the profusion of arches and scalloped cornices that climbed so high that they aspired to touch the glass roof of the Main Exhibition Hall, even though it was perched dozens of meters above the ground.
At the top of the pediment, the words "Brazil" could be seen from a distance.
"The Castle of the Arabian Nights!" Melina almost whispered. "Let's go and see!"
Speaking on behalf of Cathleen and Scarlett, Duncan made a negative head movement: "Melina, we are all looking forward to enjoying the park. Surely you do not have the ambition to tour all the international representations!"
Her sister pressed on, using the endearment technique she used as a child to get her way: "Please! This pavilion is so unusual! It is Brazil, and... your friend Mr. Roberts mentioned it last night."
Reassured to hear his sister express for the first time this morning her traditional joie de vivre, Duncan agreed after silently consulting the other two women.
Ella, always willing to live in the land of fairy tales, said to her mother: "The doors look like gigantic keyholes." And she began to decipher - with great difficulty - what was inscribed above these curved arches: words as incomprehensible as Para, Mina Gerais, or Rio de Janeiro.
As they passed under the main arch, they found themselves in another world. The inner courtyard had all the magnificence of an exotic palace. All that was missing was the marble on the floor and the trickle of a fountain to create the illusion.
In any case, Melissa believed it and started to wander between the display cases like a princess discovering her castle, caressing the mahogany and rosewood of the small tables on show as she went.
Faced with such energy, the other members of the group got into the spirit of discovering Brazil.
Wade immersed himself in the practical exercise of his zoology course, facing the row of slanted glass cases containing hundreds of insects and butterflies - thousands, according to the information leaflet. What a pleasure it was for Charles Hamilton's son to play the amateur entomologist! He was proud to be able to identify some - around ten - of the local species, with their evocative names, unpronounceable in Portuguese but fortunately subtitled in English.
Cathleen, Melina, Scarlett and Ella clustered around the most flamboyant attraction, a tall octagonal greenhouse with a prominent bell tower. Inside the glass bubble, lush plants and flowers flourished in this miniaturized Amazon rainforest.
"It is an aviary!"
This was obvious to everyone who looked closely, as the flora was made exclusively from South American bird feathers. They came in all shapes, sizes and colors, some as wide as a hand, others as transparent as down.
Scarlett called Duncan to the rescue: "Only you can identify all these feathers because you magnify them in your creations."
They listened attentively to his list of strange names and their applications in embroidery, stoles and hats, so captivated were they by the enchantment of this rainbow 'aviary'. The staging was almost perfect, and all that was missing was the birdsong to make them imagine they were in the middle of the jungle in a faraway land.
Then their ornithology guide left them to their contemplation, for he had spotted a painting on canvas half-drowned in this theatrical décor. It was a parrot with long, bright green wings, a Red Diademed Amazon recognizable by the red feathers between its eyes and at the bottom of its wings. The painting showed it suspended life-size above a carpet of violet flowers. Cattleya orchids. Or a name more to my taste, Brazilian Corsage Orchids.
Animals and plants were flooded with the light that pierced the foliage. The painter had proceeded in small, superimposed strokes, using his brush to reconstitute each flower pistil and each parrot feather. With infinite gentleness, like a caress.
The Vayton heir was not a man to indulge in blissful sentimentality, whether towards mankind, animals or art. He liked to be surrounded by beautiful things and beautiful faces. His birth, education and refinement led him to acquire art objects. But this was as an aesthete. Yes, there was a time when art had moved him, through literature and its iconography, but that belonged to the past, just something to reminisce about on a nostalgic evening with his friends. What a paradox, given that he was an artist acclaimed and adored for his sketches of fashion models! His drawings reflected his talent, his technique, his modernity, his creativity and his imagination, but not his heart. That was padlocked, safe from any intrusion.
Yet the painting touched him with its harmony. Except for one detail. A white flower in the middle of this orgy of purple petals, a white spot so anachronistic that the visitor had to be caught by it. At least Duncan did so.
He gestured to a representative of the Brazilian Pavilion, who rushed over at once, eager to respond to the solicitations of the elegant man who exuded opulence.
"I would like to take a closer look at this painting." Without waiting for the Brazilian to retort that extracting the painting from its clever decor was complicated, he mimed a cordial handshake before slipping him a twenty-dollar "Liberty" note. That was all it took for the latter to ask the onlookers to move away so that he could open the door to the central panel. Duncan waited patiently outside. In the meantime, Scarlett had led her friends on a voyage of discovery.
When the employee handed it to him, he checked his first impression. The white spot stood out against the background because it was a different species, a camellia. Using the dermis of his index finger, he followed the texture of the layers of paint applied to the bird's wings to accentuate the effect of relief, whereas the brush had simply grazed the canvas to describe the fragility of the flowers. The texture of the camellia was so light under the caress of his finger...
The signature was unknown to him. Obviously, because he was only interested in European and North American painters. In any case, the lack of notoriety of the author did not matter.
"I want to buy this painting. I am aware that we shall have to wait until the end of the exhibition, but I would like to reserve it now. Could you tell me the price?"
The Brazilian was embarrassed to reply to this generous American that "unfortunately, this work has only been loaned for the exhibition and will return to Brazil afterwards".
A few steps away, the four women - including little Ella - were getting restless.
"Duncan! Look at this! I have never seen anything like it: insects turned into jewels!"
Scarlett's amazement was a joy to behold. She was not the only one, either, as her children, along with Cathleen and Melina, were in a similar state of surprise around the long display case, which had been set up at the right height for everyone to enjoy.
Duncan looked at their objects of desire: brooches, earrings, cufflinks, necklaces, hairpins... The list was long to describe these tempting jewels. For they were indeed jewels with iridescent reflections, bright colors and convoluted shapes, but with a special texture, straight out of the living world, that of birds, butterflies and insects.
"Ladies, you are looking at just a few samples of the craze that is gripping Parisian and New York women: the fashion for 'beetle and lepidopteran jewelry'!"
As the Vaytons and O'Haras were watching in amazement, the torsos of beetles, ladybirds, cockchafers and other normally repulsive insects came to life, changing from emerald to azure under the rays of the Main Exhibition Building's glass roofs.
"The fashion was born among Brazilian women, who had long been transforming nature into inanimate ornaments. It spread like wildfire to Europe. Look at those piles of crates of chemically-treated insects preserved in wax! They will probably all be bought by wholesalers who will export them to foreign jewelers and New York craftsmen. But there are a handful of Brazilian jewelers who are turning these insects into works of art themselves. Just look at the name of this company, M. & E. Natte, from Rio de Janeiro, which is exhibiting here: these butterfly wings are perched on hairpins to float above curls; these tiny golden beetles are stuck to the petals of artificial flowers. Natte's insects, which are mounted as necklaces, pendants and earrings, are all set in gold."
Never had an audience been so attentive. Other visitors had approached, more or less discreetly, to listen to the eloquent man with the blond hair and the drawling Charleston accent. "Out of curiosity, I visited the most famous specialist shop in Paris, on Rue Richelieu, that of a Madame Tilman. Her New York branch has been a great success ever since, particularly with its hummingbird heads transformed into earrings." (*5)
Cathleen, Melina, Scarlett, Ella and Wade all grimaced in agreement. "Why didn't we ever see any in Charleston or Atlanta?"
He lowered his voice so that the curious could not hear him: "For the excellent reason that they are intended for the middle classes. You ladies, fortunately, prefer to wear real jewels made of gold and... emerald." He stared purposefully at Scarlett.
"I fear that this craze is beginning to take on proportions that are worrying for the good taste and even the mental health of some women."
This assertion whetted Scarlett's curiosity even more. "That bad?"
"Beyond the unimaginable! The original ambition was for city women to reconnect with nature. As much so that today some eccentric women in Paris or London have the fanciful idea of adorning their hats with whole stuffed birds nesting in a nest! Some musical revue dancers, desperate for success, even go so far as to sprinkle their hairstyles with glittering fireflies. Others - excuse me, ladies - let live beetles, on pins and leashes, roam their bodices..." (*5) He burst out laughing: "Brrr... I think I have managed to put you off this new fad forever!"
Actually, he did. They all lost the slightest desire to buy even the most innocent button-bug. They left the... peculiar display in a hurry.
Duncan repressed the urge to laugh to himself at the display of beetle-jewels. He loved to tease his mother and sister from time to time. And he was looking forward to doing the same with Scarlett when she became his wife, the better to reassure her afterwards. Nevertheless, everything he had told them was an accurate reflection of reality.
He took one last look at the decried shop window and stopped. To decorate the back of the glass panels, the exhibitor had lined them with illustrations on paper. These were four watercolors, each depicting a couple: two glistening blue hummingbirds sniffing the nectar of a camellia in mid-air, two butterflies with blue and green wings fluttering together under a cloudless sky, two scarlet ladybirds crossing a leaf that was clearly gigantic for their size, and finally two dragonflies clinging to a twig as fragile as their diaphanous wings.
Did the man who set up the window realize what he was doing? I doubt it, because these little paintings are a mockery of the mummified insects strung around the necks of coquettes. It is a hymn to life - and even to fidelity - described with such precision and gentleness...
He had an intuition. This time, he did not need to disturb the representative of the Brazilian pavilion because, bending down, he managed to read the name of the painter. It was the same as the one on The Amazon with the Red Diadem. Were these little drawing boards marked with the same prohibition on sale?
The clock was ticking. But "his" ladies still did not seem ready to leave.
"Mother, aren't you tired?"
"A little, my son. But it gives me such joy to see your sister's eyes sparkling with happiness as we pass through the archway of this exotic palace! In fact, Scarlett's eyes sparkle just as brightly in front of the showcase of precious stones!"
He had spotted the presence of precious minerals in this pavilion on his guide map. The description briefly mentioned gold, tourmalines, quartz and diamonds.
"It is exciting to find out what raw diamonds look like before they are cut! I have just read that Brazil is the most important place for diamond exports, especially in this..." -She approached the label to make sure she pronounced the name correctly - "... Minas Geraes. Rhett felt that their brilliance superseded that of Golvonda. I doubt it, though, because nothing can match the Tiffany necklace we saw yesterday. I think I am going to dream about it for a long time!"
Duncan vacillated between the annoyance of hearing his rival's name on the lips of the beautiful Scarlett, and the secret satisfaction that soon her dream might come true...
"The diamonds from Brazil are also beautiful. In fact, I placed a large order with my jeweler in Charleston, for one of my projects. He is due to receive them shortly. This country is rich in large alluvial deposits drained by rivers and streams, in this case in the great province of Minas Gerais. Here is the story I was told. At the beginning of the last century, gold miners were collecting clear, shiny stones from the rivers, which card players used as chips! After the visit of a Portuguese monk from India - who knew about diamonds - he story reached the ears of the King of Portugal. That was the start of a fruitful adventure."
The fleeting vision of Rhett juggling diamonds during his drunken card games was so amusing, and so much like this whimsical - and insufferable - man, that Scarlett pinched her lower lip to keep from laughing.
Meanwhile, Melina was studying a giant map of Brazil with Wade. "I have located Minas Geraes. It is a region close to Rio de Janeiro."
"Close... by a few thousand kilometers. Do not forget, Little Sister, that Brazil is the largest state in the world after Russia!"
Melina concluded inwardly that she still had a lot to learn to sustain a conversation with Mr. Roberts...
While the women once again admired the collection of gemstone jewelry - their great passion during the Centennial - Duncan had an intuition and focused on the shelf holding the raw diamonds. This is fun. I feel like I am taking part in a treasure hunt... Its initiator is probably some little Brazilian employee whose job it is to arrange the items in the exhibition, either at random or according to his own taste, or rather according to a predefined plan. And I seem to be the only player, as I doubt that other visitors will indulge in such an investigation. In any case, this treasure hunt intrigues and excites me!
This time, he had more difficulty finding it because it had been placed at an angle, held straight by a small diamond pebble.
The employee did not miss his discreet signal. Without Duncan even having to specify his request, the other man took out the drawing and, with another handshake, was thanked more than generously.
It was a charcoal drawing, the size of a sheet of notebook paper. A rough diamond with sharp edges was simply set in a fine gold mesh. That was not enough to give the stone any commercial interest, even if the brilliant reflections piercing the net promised valuable carats.
But another promise - carnal this time, and more attractive to the great seducer – was laying before his eyes. The diamond in the rough was nestled comfortably at the birth of the breasts of a young woman. A true beauty, judging by the roundness of her skillfully draped chest. The same white charcoal had been used for the brilliant shade of the diamond and for the fine embroidered linen blouse. It was the same painterly style of playing with light and shadow in small strokes as the parrot. The result was to make the pores of the white skin shine and the bodice translucent in places. That was one of the many details that demonstrated the painter's exquisite taste and artistic mastery. He had limited himself to the bust, without reproducing the face. Black curls were strewn about to hide partially the naked skin. A true Brazilian beauty... No! Not with that tempting thin ivory skin...
Without realizing it, his finger began to caress "her". A noisy visitor passing by jolted him out of his erotic exploration... of a piece of paper. He checked the signature again. Identical to the other five. It began with a capital letter in calligraphy with large curls displaying the signatory's exuberance and originality. Two lower-case letters followed, with the same elegance. However, the fourth letter had been replaced by a horizontal line. It was as if the artist had grown bored, showing little interest in his identity being passed on to posterity. "Div..." he spelled aloud. That does not get me very far...
He consulted his pocket watch. Good heavens! Brazil had eaten up the rest of their morning. It was time to call up his little troop.
The three women reluctantly agreed to follow him, but Wade and Ella, closely watched by Barnabee and Prissy, did not hear them. Above them, a sign read: "Our education system in Brazil". Scarlett, Cathleen, Melina and Duncan approached to witness a touching scene: Wade was explaining to his little sister what Brazilian children her age were learning, using the few notebooks of the best pupils and the many textbooks and writing templates, all classified by level of education.
"Duncan, this will interest you! There are lots of drawings by art students here."
Was he going to find another clue to his solitary game? He rummaged between the drawing boards spread out. No! There was no trace of that "Div." Two major art schools were displaying the sketches made by their best students, judging by the quality of their work: the "Academy of Fine Arts" and the "School of Arts and Crafts", both in Rio de Janeiro.
"Interesting" he conceded aloud to Scarlett. Nevertheless, the drawings were too academic and amateurish for an artist of the quality of the great designer Duncan Vayton. Except... this one...
Once again, his rewarding tactics allowed him to select a specific sketchbook and seize it. The handwriting was fine and fast, perfectly bound, and very concise as it served to explain the fluctuating stages of the sketches. As Duncan turned the pages, his enthusiasm was growing. Many of them described the diamond cutter's work in meticulous technical detail, reproducing the various stages of the cutting process, the different facets possible and the setting of the diamonds. But in the middle of the page, the technological sketches gave way to a free-flowing inventiveness to design the final piece of jewelry.
Duncan was used to working with the greatest jewelers. When he commissioned a specific ornament from them to be applied to one of his models, he was no longer content to give them the broad outlines for the craftsman to imagine and put into practice. He had been disappointed so many times by their creations, which were too common for his taste that he preferred to draw the precise sketch himself so that all the craftsman had to do was reproduce it identically. And then, in the depths of South America, a designer - still in training – was piquing his curiosity. Perhaps this student would be interested in a work placement in the United States, at La Mode Duncan?
He continued flipping through the pages: other pieces of jewelry of equal quality to the first ones, a few projects involving the inlaying of precious stones into objects with modern lines... What a breath of fresh air such a talented young man would initiate into La Mode Duncan! But... there are some more or less old notebooks here. Perhaps this "talented youngster" is not young and talented at all any more, and has put an end to his dreams of designer?
He flipped more quickly through the notebook, at the end of the page, then checked the back cover again: Nothing! Not a name. No indication of a year of study...
He realized that Scarlett was watching him with her beautiful emerald eyes. But what a fool am I to waste my time wracking my brain trying to identify strangers, talented as they are, when I am lucky enough to have Scarlett all to myself for two more days? Because I do intend - I have to - to isolate myself with her at some point.
The group passed under the arch of the Moorish castle one last time. However, before leaving the Brazilian Pavilion, Duncan wrote a few words on the back of one of his business cards and handed it to the employee: "Thank you for placing it inside the crate that will house the painting and watercolors."
The heir to the Vayton Empire was not used to being refused anything. For a pile of dollars, the man known as Div. would agree to get rid of his six works. Even if he had to wait until the end of the year, just before the Pavilions' items were ready to leave to Brazil. Who could resist the money?
ooooOOoooo
"It is time to go and have lunch. The promised surprise tour will be postponed after you have had a rest."
As they were leaving the building, they heard bells. "It looks like a real concert! How many are there?"
"There are thirteen of them, in honor of the first thirteen States of the Union. For the duration of Centennial, they ring at dawn, noon and sunset. The big blue building next to ours is the Machinery Hall, which we will be visiting - briefly, I assure you - this afternoon. The bells are housed in one of its turrets."
"The Machinery Hall?" Melina, who had become morose again as soon as she had left the Brazilian Pavilion, came back to life: "Isn't that where your friend Mr. Roberts has arranged for us to see a demonstration?"
"Exactly, Little Sister. At 4pm. But first, let's take the Surrey. Off we go!"
They took the beautiful Avenue Belmond. At the crossroads, they rounded the statue of Christopher Columbus.
The Surreys stopped in front of the sign "Les Trois Frères Provençaux".
"The famous Paris restaurant has transported itself to Centennial to have the honor of welcoming you, ladies!"
"It looks great!"
"Above all, it is huge with its private rooms, a banqueting hall, and the list goes on!"
He gave Barnabee some money so that he and Prissy could eat at the Café, which also had a tempting menu.
"As it is not too hot today, I suggest we eat outside..."
The place was exquisite, protected from the Belmont Avenue traffic. The tables, sheltered under a smart canvas awning, faced a small lake. The nearby fountain moistened the lawn, adding to the sense of well-being felt by the customers.
"What an oasis after the hustle and bustle of the Main Building!" Cathleen was pleased: My children are happy - or so I hope... The company of Scarlett and her two children is a refreshing treat. I wish it could all go on like this...
Unsurprisingly, the food at Fairmount Park's most expensive restaurant was refined, although everyone agreed not to overindulge, as the day was just beginning.
The signal for departure was sounded and the eight passengers returned to the Surrey.
"Head for the Globe Hotel" he ordered his coachman.
Several temporary hotels had been built in record time, right inside the exhibition grounds and close to the station depot. This meant that the many groups of travelers could easily find a place to rest at a more reasonable price than in the city Centre. People were not looking for luxury, just a comfortable bed.
The Globe had a capacity of 1,000 rooms, most of which were always occupied. When Duncan proposed this trip to Centennial, he immediately booked rooms so that "his" women could take a nap between the long hours of walking.
Barnabee carried the three small suitcases prepared so that the ladies could freshen up and change if they wished. "Ladies, enjoy your siesta. Have a good rest. Prissy will be there to assist you."
He winked at Wade: "Young man, are you ready to review the American naval artillery? Your mother has given us her consent."
The smile on the face of Wade's son blossomed. Duncan Vayton was keeping his promises... him.
"We shall be back at 2.30pm. While we are away, I know Barnabee will be vigilant to make sure you can sleep soundly."
ooooOOoooo
As soon as he approached the entrance to the Government Building, Wade's eyes widened in surprise: a facsimile of the turret of an ironclad warship had been installed on a raised earthwork.
"It is the Monitor! My stepfather - well, Rhett Butler - told me about the epic battle in 1862. We were the ones building the first ironclad, our beautiful battleship Virginia, which had managed to sink a Yankee ship. The Union Navy hurried to design another. One has to admit they were ingenious." Wade was fuming, happy to be able to relive the tale of detonations, danger and adventure that used to keep him on the edge of his seat every time Rhett narrated it. "They came up with the idea of a rotating gun turret. Look inside!" And he took a closer look. Of course, for the re-enactment, the turret was presented open so that the cannons could be admired. "It is unimaginable that seventeen soldiers could fit inside this iron drum of twenty-feet in diameter, with two cannons! They had not to be claustrophobic because they hardly could see anything inside. The portholes only served to pass the nose of the gun barrel, and the flap closed as soon as the cannonball was fired. Uncle Rhett said the poor fellows got dizzy. The turret changed direction so quickly that they were unable to tell whether the gun was actually aimed at the Virginia. Lucky for our Army that she sank at the end of that year!" Charles Hamilton's son honestly admitted: "Be that as it may, the USS Monitor went down in history!" (*6)
The boy did not even realize that the war hero who was patiently listening to him could describe second by second the naval battle that had ended with no real winners and no real casualties. Duncan concluded: "It has been a great sadness, and such a frustration to our Confederate Army to have had to scuttle and sink our magnificent battleship Virginia before abandoning Norfolk."
Indeed, the Charlestonian was feeling he had heard enough about Rhett Butler... "Young man, let's go board the US Navy!"
At a brisk pace, Wade learnt about the Naval ship's equipment, both ancient and modern, from Duncan's learned comments.
More than the new warning light systems installed in lighthouses, it was the first exhibited models of the lanterns used in the 18th century that interested him, as they resembled a scaled pineapple with their prisms and lenses.
They did not dwell on the many weapons and uniforms on display, ranging from the Revolutionary War to 1876, as Wade could not resist letting his guide know that he had had a glimpse - albeit a more modest one - during the 4th of July with Rhett. Duncan made no comment, preferring to explain the system of torpedoes that set off underwater explosions to destroy hostile ships and bridges. The machine guns on board the ships fascinated Captain Butler's former stepson. Especially when Duncan showed him those used during the Civil War. Ten years of technology separated them from the new models, the Gatling, which were much lighter and deadlier. If only they had been available back then! What good use the blockade-breaker would have made of them! Scarlett's son refrained from regretting it aloud...
The time spent in the Government Building had flown by as quickly as a cannonball.
"It is up to you whether you prefer to explore the Wild West, discover new archaeological sites, or get up close and personal with an Indian tepee or totem pole. You can even shake hands with the Grand Chiefs Split Oak and Clumsy Moccasin.
As Wade frowned in puzzlement, Duncan gently patted him on the shoulder and laughed: "Or at least the feathered headdress on their life-size papier-mâché mannequins. But perhaps you prefer the great cold of the Arctic?"
So they set off to explore the Far North. No time to admire the stuffed polar bears or learn about the Eskimo way of life! The Naval Observatory had reconstructed the first Arctic explorations in glass cases.
"The Polaris boat! And here is the bust of Captain Hall!" Had Scarlett been present with them, she would have compared Wade's youthful enthusiasm with her first husband. He was ecstatic! Proudly, he began to list for Duncan all the things that had thrilled him over the last two years, using extracts from newspaper articles that he and his fellow boarders had exchanged.
"When the Polaris Expedition left in 1871, I was still young, of course, but Uncle Rhett told me that they were going to try to go all the way up into the iciest lands, where man had never been, to find a navigable route to the North Pole."
Wade ran his hand over the protective glass of the display case, as if he wanted to reach his explorer's dream: "It says that these are Captain Hall's navigational instruments, his compass, his sextant... What a pity..." A pall of sadness assailed him: "There is a rumor that Captain Hall died suspiciously in the early months of their epic. He was poisoned. It is even thought..." Wade was too well-behaved a boy to openly accuse anyone, especially the other scientist on the expedition. "And later, when nineteen of their members were trapped on the ice floe... A block broke. The boat veered off course... Six months! They had to wait six months for a whaler to come and rescue them. Luckily there were some Eskimos among them who knew how to hunt!" (*7)
"You are a wealth of knowledge, Wade! I am impressed. I was in France at that time, and I confess that I had not kept informed on this exploration of the Far North. Your enthusiasm makes me really want to read about their exploits!"
Wade blushed at the compliment. But his mind wandered back to the relics of the Hanes expedition, the one that Rhett had told him about in detail, the one that had tried to find in Greenland the tracks of another explorer lost five years earlier... He did not mention it to Duncan, and silently admired the display case with the mythical objects. He would have liked to share this contemplation with someone else...
At 2.30pm, the six other members of their own Charleston / Atlanta expedition were waiting for them at the Globe Hotel reception.
"You must be exhausted! Did you enjoy this visit together?"
"Your son is a fount of science! I must confess sincerely that his knowledge of the adventurers of the Great North is impressive and far exceeds my own!" Duncan silenced the awkward feeling that there had been three of them for those two hours, the ghost of the invasive Rhett Butler being a constant reminder to Scarlett's son… and to himself.
"Duncan has taught me so much about naval weaponry. I shall tell you all about it if you are interested, Mother." He said it without conviction, because he knew his mother would be too busy with the shop to listen to him talk about naval battles or the Arctic... And then... How could he explain to her that he had understood one thing: he missed the adventure stories Captain Butler told with verve. He missed his Uncle Rhett...
ooooOOoooo
Wednesday 21 July 1876, 2.30pm, on board the liner Ville de Bordeaux, in the Atlantic Ocean
"If I understand your incredible story correctly, you have lived in Brazil for two years thanks to an inheritance that fell from the sky, and now you are returning to France to be with your family. How I understand you! There is no point in travelling the world when the grass is greener at home."
After a good meal, they were still seated in the First Class dining room. Archibald had sensibly opted for a coffee, but Rhett had returned to his favorite whisky. Inexplicably, he was feeling confident with this jovial man whom he had just met 24 hours ago. So much so that he began to let down his guard and his mask of impassivity to exchange more intimate confidences with him. Or perhaps it was because he was a stranger who had never heard of the cruel and heartless Rhett Butler?
"Not at all! There is nothing keeping me in my country any more. My parents are dead. That is why I am the only heir to the providential uncle. Nobody is waiting for me anymore, except probably my painter friends who will be happy to see me. And you Rhett, apart from your business with the museum, who are you going to meet in France? Any family or... a French fiancée?"
Rhett tilted his head back and gazed dreamily at the wisps of smoke rising from his cigar. When he straightened up, his face was serious: "No! My family... What is left of my family, my mother and sister live in Charleston. But before, centuries ago... I had a family of my own. A wonderful little girl, Bonnie. My Bonnie. My angel. She was four when she left to join the other angels. A pony accident... I, her father, who adored her most in the world and whom she trusted blindly to protect her, was responsible for her accident. I loved her so much! But so badly that I agreed to her raising the bar. So..." He passed his hand over his misty eyes to hide his despair, which resurfaced brutally every time he dared to mention that tragic day. "Sometimes, often, very often, all I want is to get back to her as soon as possible."
His throat was so knotted that he had to stop for a moment, before continuing bitterly: Unfortunately, I doubt that God, if he exists, will allow me to enter Paradise. More likely Hell, which I' have spent my life deserving and creating around myself by making the one I loved the most suffer. To the point of cutting myself off from her, and divorcing... Oh, better not mention her or I shall be rambling on here until tonight. And, to my shame, in doing so I abandoned my other two children, Wade and little Ella. These are Scarlett's lovely children who have only known me as a father, and whom I consider my own. They too trusted me. I betrayed them too."
He sipped his drink and clenched his fist. "To hell with lamentations! Let us talk art! I am curious to see your paintings."
"I shall be happy to show them to you when we meet again in Paris. In fact, I am making this trip to liquidate my property in France, and to bring my paintings back to Brazil. Perhaps I might find buyers there? You know, the elite of this great country, both in Sao Paulo and Rio de Janeiro, are extremely refined and eager for European culture. But I took on the boat a painting I did there to show my Parisian friends. I guess that it represents the adaptation of our 'impressionist' style, as you call it, to the warm colors and exoticism of South America. Would you like to see it?"
Archibald's cabin was all the smaller because he was sharing it with his two companions with whom Rhett had eaten the day before. They were absent. The sheets on the two bunks were impeccably drawn and their luggage neatly stowed away. What a contrast with the Frenchman's bed!
"Um... Forgive the mess, Rhett. I tend to... spread myself a bit thin."
Rhett scoffed gently: "Never mind! The artist's fantasy has to get out!" The word was apt: his clothes strewn about in an open trunk, a drawing pad lying on the crumpled sheets, charcoals and colored pencils fallen on the floor...
And, in a corner, a canvas half-hidden by a cloth, in front of a carefully wrapped cardboard box of the same dimensions.
"Are there two paintings?"
"The other one is a private gift. Rhett, since you have had a chance to appreciate the quality of my friends' work, I am not sure you will be interested in what I am doing. But, anyway... here it is!"
In stark contrast to his relaxed demeanor, Archibald's hand seemed to hesitate as he lifted the cotton sheet to reveal "his work".
This was a far cry from the bucolic landscape of Normandy with its apple trees, or the lavender fields evoking the song of the cicadas in Provence. No, these trees were flourishing with long, aggressive green leaves. Two or three exotic birds showed the tips of their feathers at the chance of a liana. On the greasy, moisture-soaked earth, flowers that Rhett would have been hard pressed to identify were trying to catch the rays of light. Because there was light! Just like the Impressionist paintings he had loved so much in Paris; an identical way of progressing in small strokes, favoring the gradation of colors to play with light and shadow.
"Archibald! If you are up for it, I invite you to exhibit your work in Atlanta! If the paintings you left behind in Paris are anything like them, the Americans will love them!"
Rhett told himself that this trip on Ville de Bordeaux was going to be exciting: a new friend and a new painter for his gallery... Chance did things well...
ooooOOoooo
Wednesday 21 July 1876, 2.30pm, Fairmount Park, Philadelphia
"Walking through the alleys of Fairmount Park is a real pleasure for the eyes! So many flowers! It is a symphony of colors playing in harmony with the trickle of fountains and the splendor of the monuments erected at each crossroads."
"You are right, Mother. By the way, what do you think of this one?"
The three women in the Surray were so engrossed in admiring the work of the gardeners that they gave a little cry of surprise when the car came to a halt almost at the foot of a gigantic sculpture.
"Ladies, I present to you "Liberty Enlightening the World"! (*8)
"But... it is a giant's hand! Look at the top of the crown! Two gentlemen salute us!" Ella, with her childlike simplicity, expressed what the other seven people from Charleston and Atlanta were feeling.
As they were speechless with amazement, Duncan saw fit to give them some explanations: "It is a gift from France in homage to the independence and freedom of the young America. Its sculptor is a certain Bartholdi, whose statue you will admire later. He tries to raise funds from the French, but it is not an easy task. President Grant has undertaken that we will finance the pedestal, because the aim is to install it at the entrance to New York harbor. But money is hard to come by. That is why Bartholdi came up with the idea of building the arm and torch "that lights up the world" first and exhibiting it at the Centennial. From what I have read, he considers that, if there are not enough benefactors to pay for the complete statue, the arm will be a stand-alone monument. In any case, visitors are encouraged to make a donation under the tent that stands right up against the monument, to help build this pedestal. In fact, I am going to contribute a consequent share right now."
Cathleen, Melina and Scarlett stocked up on photographic stereotypes to give to their friends.
The three women, Ella and Wade were stunned by the gigantic scale of the Frenchman's work, which was all the more magnified because it had been installed against a small lake. In the background, the Memorial Hall, dedicated to Art, seemed tiny.
"To give you a better idea of the size of this "little arm", the index finger alone is 8 feet long.
Duncan's teasing temperament got the better of him again: "Ladies, which of you are prepared to give your 50 cent obeisance to climb up to the torch?"
"Duncan! Have you lost your mind?"
He, who was so keen not to make a fuss in public, burst out laughing at her scandalized exclamation.
Upset - or rather pretending to be - by so much implausibility, Cathleen moved away to admire the sculpture from another angle. Melina, who was holding her arm, turned round with a knowing wink at her brother.
He took advantage of these few seconds alone: "Scarlett, intrepid Scarlett, would you be prepared to climb the ladder - well, several ladders on top of each other, inside this arm which is only... almost 42-feet tall... We might feel alone in the world at this height! I shall be behind you to protect your progress. Hmm... The view will be... breathtaking..."
Scarlett was not fooled by the naughty allusion, and preferred to dodge it by challenging him: "You cannot imagine what I have been capable of doing all these past years. Danger does not scare me!
Emerald sparks sparkled, blending with the intensity of the early afternoon sun.
"Oh, wonderful Scarlett! I dream of shivering with fear - and above all pleasure, with you!"
ooooOOoooo
"Why don't we take another souvenir of Centennial with us? To back up his words, he led them past a strange building, almost devoid of windows.
"This is the Centennial Photographic Company.
As soon as they entered, they realized that the light came from the inner courtyard. All around, there were shared spaces for the photographers' workshops, the customer shoots and the stereotype printing laboratories.
"Even before the opening, this group of dedicated photographers did an exceptional job. Each pavilion was photographed in detail, to preserve these historical documents for posterity. But apart from the panoramas, they also take portraits, particularly of each exhibitor, to include on their entry passes..." He added with a broad smile "... and visitors who wish to do so. Let us immortalize our expedition to Philadelphia!"
The photographer wanted to place them, but Duncan set the scene: three sat in front, his mother, his sister and Ella. Tall Wade stood behind his sister. Next to him was Scarlett, and of course Duncan stood next to her. As close as decency would allow...
Fortunately, the time spent posing and standing still had been considerably reduced recently. Duncan ordered six prints with instructions to collect them the following morning.
"It is high time to go to the Machinery Hall. We are going to be late!"
"Late? Are you becoming punctual with the years, little Sister? Oh, yes, I remember: our date with Liam. We still have a bit of time, but you are right. Let's get a move on."
ooooOOoooo
The Machinery hall was almost as big as the Main Hall.
"All the technology of our time is concentrated here, and two-thirds of the stands are American. But, rest assured, there is no question of you getting bored inspecting machines, however innovative they may be. Tomorrow, when you are taking your nap, I am going to inspect the new sewing machines and weaving machines - even though I have been fully informed by catalogue of every new model produced by my usual suppliers. This afternoon, as this past morning, is dedicated to your pleasure. And to hell with visiting just one per cent of the exhibition! Otherwise you might get really exhausted, and Barnabee, Wade and I would have no alternative but to push you into those wheelchairs!"
Everything had been planned to prevent elderly or weak visitors from becoming exhausted by the long hours of walking. Wheelchairs could be hired in each hall, at various strategic points, for a dollar for three hours. The Rolling Company could even provide an attendant for a few extra cents.
This amusing prospect provoked a sharp denial of horror in Cathleen as well as in the two young women. And together they increased their pace.
Like all the other visitors, they were in for a shock as soon as they entered.
"What kind of monstrosity is this?
"The Corliss, ladies. Wade, remember this image well. It is for History."
Resting on a circular base over 45-feet in diameter and almost as high, a machine made of cogs, pumps and staircases seemed to have sprung straight from the imagination of a mad scientist or a fantasy novel like Jules Verne's Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Sea.
"What a roar! And look at that steam escaping! It sounds like everything is going to explode."
"Steam is essential, because the Corliss supplies energy to all the exhibition buildings and more than eight hundred machines! It Is the most powerful machine of its kind in the world. Impressive, isn't it?"
Wade was dumbfounded. "But how did they connect them?"
"By means of underground shafts and tunnels, and above all the ingenuity of American industrialists." He addressed his mother and Scarlett: "The Vayton Ltd. contributed a comfortable share of stock to this project. It Is important that Father's legacy is one of progress. In fact, I was invited to the inauguration and start-up. But my fashion collection comes first. On the opening day, the machine shook when two cranks were turned at the same time, one by President Grant, the other by the Emperor of Brazil! By the way, while we are on the subject of Brazil, I think it is nearly time for our rendezvous with my friend and his mysterious demonstration."
Melina, who was standing next to Scarlett, seemed to become agitated. She ran a nervous hand over the pleats of her skirt, checked the fastening of her bodice, and furtively ran her fingers through her bun to make sure it was perfect...
What is got into her? It was then that Scarlett noticed Melina's new dress. She had obviously changed at the hotel. The sky blue color suits her perfectly - even if Scarlett did not like to recognize other women's good looks. Could it be that it is in honor of the man from last night? What was his name? Oh, yes, I remember, Liam Roberts, the one who dared to look at me sideways for a few seconds. Seconds too long. But... would little Melina, model girl and fiancée, be disturbed? I have a feeling this 'demonstration' is going to be instructive. Scarlett hid a small smile of delight. She was fascinated by troubled stories... from experience!
Liam Roberts strode forward and immediately grabbed Duncan effusively. "I still cannot believe that we have found each other by chance. I have been looking forward to seeing you all!"
It was at this point that he first turned towards the Widow Vayton to greet her elegantly. Once again, his eyes came to rest on Scarlett's green irises. He flickered his eyelids, and eventually seemed to relax in front of Melina.
Her cheeks are as rosy as a delicious apple ready to be eaten," thought Liam Roberts.
"Come this way, my friends."
Sheltered from the hustle and bustle of the hall, there were two small paneled areas separated by a wooden partition.
From where they were standing with Liam, a little way back outside, they saw a lone man sitting in one of the rooms in front of a strange machine. He was nervously running his fingers through his hair. In the other, a number of important gentlemen - judging by their formal attire - were silently staring at another machine on a desk.
Two men entered, deep in discussion. The shorter man wore a long white beard with a distinguished, haughty bearing. All present removed their hats and bowed ceremoniously in his direction.
Liam whispered, "It is his Majesty the Emperor Dom Pedro. He is the one who allowed Graham Bell to do his demonstration, when the members of the Centennial Awards Jury wanted to leave."
"Are you finally going to tell me what this is all about?"
"We are witnessing the first public attempt to transmit the human voice by means of an improved telegraph wire. Bell patented his invention in March. It is a transmitter with a magnetic receiver." (*9)
"The cylindrical shape he is holding in front of him?"
"Yes, it is. The other cone-shaped one is in the other room. The demonstration almost failed to be made. Bell damaged his equipment when he came by train from Boston. His cones were dented, the glass cells broken... Fortunately, some exhibitors came to help him, including an organ repairman. In short, it is fixed. Ah, they are ready to start!"
Hubbart, the man accompanying the Emperor, sat down and took hold of the cone.
Bell began to sing into the cylinder connected to the other side by a twisted wire. To the astonishment of the Committee members, Hubbart exclaimed when he heard the phrase in the strange cone: "Do you understand what I say?"
Scarlett, her son, Duncan, Cathleen and Melina gasped, as did the other witnesses to this historic event, when the emperor, leaning against the device to listen too, exclaimed: "I have heard!" (*9)
Applause and congratulations followed.
Delighted with the success of the experiment, the Emperor prepared to leave the premises, gesturing to Liam to follow him. Pointing to his friend who came forward and bowed respectfully and gracefully to the master of the Brazilian Empire, he said: "Meu Senhor, I have the honor of introducing Mr. Duncan Vayton, the Chairman of Vayton Limited, one of the five biggest economic powers in the United States. Like you, he is passionate about innovation, and his companies are at the cutting edge of progress. Above all, he is a great artist, and the world's most famous fashion designer, along with Worth of Paris. Incidentally - no, mainly - he is above all my oldest and best friend!"
Scarlett was impressed. Impressed to see such an exotic king up close. And impressed by the glowing portrait of Duncan. And this important man is at my feet... The vanity of the former belle of the Earldom of Clayton was reinforced.
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To recover from their emotions, it was time to sit down and have something to eat. Before leaving the hall, Duncan purposely led them down the aisle he had spotted in the guidebook: "I thought that the only essential stands to see in this huge hall, especially for Wade and Ella, are the ones that will delight your taste buds!"
He did not need to specify what it was. The scent of cocoa and sour sugar was invading their nostrils. The French chocolatier, Henri Maillard, with his New York branch, was operating a machine for grinding cocoa beans, while the other was kneading the creamy chocolate paste. On the counter, trays filled with pearls of fine chocolate tempted everyone to succumb to the sin of gluttony.
The Vaytons and O'Haras were no exception, and after excessively and shamelessly testing the samples, each of them stocked up on boxes of these precious chocolates, some of which were flavored with cognac and fine liqueurs.
This time, Prissy and Wade were in charge of carrying the precious packages.
But the orgy of sweets had barely begun when they smelled the stand of Whitman, the famous Philadelphia-based chocolatier. And they were equally enthusiastic about sampling the specialties and buying many more boxes of treats.
Another smell, just as pervasive, made them join the dozen or so children and adults gathered in front of two stands offering the same revolutionary product: sweet popcorn! Barnabee was well stocked with boxes of chocolates, and everyone was happy to take their own bag of this new confectionery.
Wade and Ella had already emptied their packs when the Surrey dropped them off on Lansdowne Drive opposite the Hall of the Arts, in front of Cincinnati's Gaff and Fleischman Viennese pastry café. The croissants and apple strudel accompanied by flavored teas, lemonades and Viennese coffee finally convinced them that their day in Fairmount Park had been a great success.
As she was eating a chocolate croissant, Melina tried to hide her impatience to be at the Philadelphia restaurant and theatre in a few hours... with Liam Roberts...
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Notes on chapter 58 :
(*1) If you want to learn more about the Centennial (we never know ;-) Documentation written at the same time as the Centennial in 1876, with a pavilion-by-pavilion description of types of products and machines (800 pages in PDF online): "The Centennial Exposition, described and illustrated: being a concise and graphic description of this grand enterprise commemorative of the first centennial of American independence. Illustrated and prepared by Ingram. Published by Hubbard Bros, Philadelphia, Pa, 1876." .
You can admire the photographs of the Centennial taken by the Centennial Cabinet, including most of what is described in this chapter, on my blog (I shall update my blog on Sunday 25th.). They come from the 1,600 'stereotypes' on the Free Library of Philadelphia website, digital/collection/home/page/81/id/centennial-exhibition .
(*2) Chapelier "Salon des Dames, Rue de la Paix, Paris": this is the only mark that does not correspond to the actual exhibitors at the Centenary Exhibition. It is the mark printed on the box of the hat given by Rhett to Scarlett in the film Gone with the Wind.
(*3) "Plaisir d'Amour" - originally "La romance de Chevrier" from a short story written in 1784 by Jean-Pierre Claris de Florian. Set to music in 1784 by Jean-Paul-Égide Martini.
New orchestration in 1850 by Jacques Offenbach - You Tube Offenbach: Plaisir d'amour by Martini (circa 1850) (Orphee 58) - watch?v=rd2n81xcDDI ;
In 1959, Hector Berlioz performed it for small orchestra - Plaisir d'amour de Martin, orchestration: Hector Berlioz) - watch?v=QgKzHTDDu6s
You Tube, with English subtitles: Plaisir d'Amour (English Subtitles) Martini arr. Berlioz (Calvin Chan) - watch?v=fyZYVzz-oJg&list=PLZiTgPwbYGbbIhhsUnd2Xv3PD2Viy9Odc&index=1
(*4) First exhibition of the "Impressionist" painters, in the studio of the photographer Nadar, 35 boulevard des Capucines, from 15 April to 15 May 1874 - source Atelier de Nadar, /l-atelier-de-nadar/
(*5) the fashion for "insect jewellery": "Beetle Abominations" and Birds on Bonnets: Zoological Fantasy in Late-Nineteenth-Century Dress by Michelle Tolini - /component/content/article/85-spring02/spring02article/206-qbeetle-abominationsq-and-birds-on-bonnets-zoological-fantasy-in-late-nineteenth-century-dress
(*6) the ironclad Monitor and its turret in 1862: In the Monitor Turret by Dwight Hughes
/2018/08/03/around-we-go-in-the-monitor-turret/
(*7) This Arctic murder mystery remains unsolved after 150 years - - . /history-and-civilisation/2022/11/this-arctic-murder-mystery-remains-unsolved-after-150-years
(*8) The Statue of Liberty Enlightening the World, by Frédéric Bartholdi, frame by Gustave Eiffel. In fact, the "arm" did not arrive in America and Philadelphia until the end of August 1876. As a result, the statue does not feature in the Centennial visitor guide. Scarlett and Duncan's visit was on 21 July, so I 'cheated' by one month so they could see it.
(*9) Graham Bell's telephone: Graham Bell patented his invention on 13 March 1876, called "Improvement on Telegraphy" or "Visible Speech". "Emperor Dom Pedro, a great lover of science, had visited several cities in the United States before opening the Centenary celebrations in May with President Grant. He met Graham Bell at the school for the deaf where he was teaching in Boston. Graham Bell was not scheduled to come and present his invention, and the train journey did not go well, as he damaged his device. The members of the Jury were tired and wanted to separate at the end of the afternoon. The emperor, who was also a member of the scientific jury, recognized the inventor and encouraged the jury to stay. Dom Pedro II took part in the demonstration, which took place on 25 June 1876, and not on 21 July in my novel. The human voice could only be transmitted in one direction at that time. Furthermore, due to the unexpected presence of the inventor, there was no space left for him in the Machinery Hall. The demonstration took place in the Educational Hall, which is not covered in these chapters.
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