The Robillard Boutique Chapter 59: Ch59 Charlestonians & Confederados, a gone with the wind fanfic

Note: this is a short chapter, as everyone needed a gastronomic and international interlude to regain their strength before the last day in Philadelphia: my characters, myself, and you, the readers who have remained faithful to this long story...

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Chapter 59: Centennial of Philadelphia, part 3. Gastronomic interlude between Charlestonians and Confederados

Wednesday 21 July 1876, 8pm, on board the liner Ville de Bordeaux, in the Atlantic Ocean

The First Class passengers on the liner Ville de Bordeaux were beginning to settle into a pleasant routine. In this confined space, casual friendships were forged based on affinities, or habits of meeting on the promenade deck, in the lounges or the dining room.

So Rhett Butler met up with his table-mates from the previous evening. He and Archibald Le Rouge had parted only a few hours ago, but they were already moving on to other topics of discussion.

As on the previous day, however, the first difficulty was choosing the language in which to communicate. When they first spoke, they tried English, but Rhett quickly realized that Archibald got entangled in the meaning of words and grammar. They could have agreed on Portuguese, as Rhett had sufficient knowledge of it to sustain a conversation. The Dutchman mastered Brazilian like his native tongue, even if he did not succeed to hide his Dutch accent. This was more of a problem for Archibald, who got bogged down in the pronunciation of vowels and generally finished his sentences in French. This did not seem to affect his room-mates, who were juggling Brazilian, English and French without difficulty.

Rhett let Archibald exuberantly recount a bizarre adventure that had happened to him in Paris, and took the opportunity to discreetly examine the other two men.

Something was 'wrong'. How had the petulant artist come to be sharing the journey with such serious people, especially with the oldest sitting on his left!

At first glance, Nikolaas Van Houtten's appearance was not that of a jolly good fellow. The two small vertical wrinkles between his eyes were evidence of an anxious character. The hair was pulled back impeccably to control its waviness, the moustache impeccably trimmed and the little bow tie fastened tightly to the shirt collar, leaving no room for fantasy. The only thing that seemed to rebel was the fringe of blond curls that his fingers tried in vain to pull back but which immediately fell back onto his forehead.

How old was he? Probably three or four years older than me, Rhett estimated. There were silver threads among the gold and some on the hairs on his moustache. As a connoisseur - and with good reason - of what appealed to women, Rhett conceded that Nikolaas, with his high cheekbones and sunken cheeks, coupled with his enigmatic washed-out blue eyes, exuded an undeniable charm and an aura of mystery that some women surely adored.

Actually, the young woman sitting two chairs away from them seemed to be of the same opinion. Even if his vanity had to suffer, it was in his direction that her eyes were flickering discreetly. Obviously to no avail, as Nikolaas only deigned to look at the smile on the pretty passenger's face for a moment. Another one who is obsessed with one single heart… Rhett refused to let the brilliance of certain emeralds cloud his mind. At least for a few hours, he had to protect himself from the obsessive anguish of imagining her with the other one in Philadelphia, by taking an interest in his travelling companions.

"There is a real buzz tonight. The dining room is packed! That is one of the remarkable things I like about transatlantic liners: the concentration of dozens of nationalities who were never meant to meet - and who have to put up with each other, unless they throw themselves into the sea!" he concludes with humor.

The young man, who had been almost silent until then, took the liberty of contradicting him: "Not as many as at the Centennial! It is an incessant flow of people that overwhelms us, as irresistible and continuous as a landslide of greasy earth carried by the torrent on a stormy evening. And what a cosmopolitan atmosphere! I read in the guidebook that there are thirty-five countries represented. It is a real Tower of Babel!

Archibald laughed gently at him: "Certainly, when you are used to the Brazilian pampas, the influx of visitors is disorientating!"

Rhett did not notice that the young man had blushed under the effect of the Frenchman's teasing. On the other hand... had he heard correctly? Or was it Scarlett's ghost that was continuing to taunt him relentlessly?

"The Centennial? I intend to go there when I get back from France" - provided his mood has improved thanks to a certain Mrs. Butler... - "Have you been to Philadelphia?"

His question was rather comical, given that all the foreigners in the United States at the time were coming for one purpose - to see the international exhibition!

"Oh yes! And in the best seats! In the suite of the Emperor of Brazil!" Archibald's voice betrayed his excitement as a regular Frenchman to be introduced into royal surroundings.

Rhett wrinkled his brow. Was the artist's tendency to boast the reason for such an announcement?

Nikolaas cleared his throat in irritation. "Archibald got carried away too quickly. We were not part of his retinue, but His Majesty Dom Pedro did us the honor of offering to travel with him to Philadelphia."

"A fine mark of consideration! I have heard great things about this liberal, science-loving monarch."

"Indeed, he is exceptionally open-minded and thirsty for scientific and artistic knowledge. That explains why he was keen to go through all the halls, even though he was already there for the opening in May. Unfortunately, we did not have time to accompany him everywhere, as we had an important appointment before boarding the boat. So we concentrated on the Agricultural and Machinery halls. I found there an interesting machine that alone was worth the trip to Philadelphia."

"Ah? What is this invention?" Rhett asked politely, glad that the Dutchman had decided to be more forthcoming. But, at the mere mention of this damned exhibition, he could now imagine Scarlett and Duncan strolling hand in hand through the aisles of Fairmount Park... No! Probably not, hand in hand because she was surrounded by chaperones during the day. Only during the day...

Lost in his nightmarish thoughts, he gasped when Nikolaas said: "Oh that is not going to mean much to you! An industrialist from New Haven in Connecticut has invented a very powerful stone crusher. It allows to grab rocks weighing half a ton, even on a hillside or in a river gorge, and reduce them to the desired size of fragments."

"Hm, hm!" was all Rhett could say to indicate that he was listening. God, I liked it better when he was taciturn... What a boring subject...

The other grew weary and stopped looking at the Charlestonian to turn to Percevejo: "You know how quickly the jaws of these machines wear out. With this ingenious system, we are going to save hand-labor, get to the deposits more quickly and therefore increase our profits. I have put in an option to buy two Elakes from the Blake Crusher Company, and I shall confirm it to them by telegram when we get back to Rio as soon as I get the go-ahead to place the order."

Unfortunately for Nikolaas, Percevejo did not seem any more enthusiastic about this revolutionary machine than Rhett, but he pretended with more ease, certainly out of habit. "That is a good idea, Pei." Then he turned to Rhett: "Mr. Butler..."

"Please, call me Rhett or I am going to feel even older than I am..."

"So be it. Rhett, when you go to Fairmount Park, be sure to visit the Brazilian Pavilions. The Main Building, the Machinery Building, the Agricultural Building, the Art Gallery and the Women's Pavilion. If you have time, you can also admire the pretty Brazilian villa next to Lansdowne Ravine."

"It is impressive. And you talk about it with such enthusiasm that I'll be sure to take a look."

Archibald patted him on the shoulder and laughed: "Rhett, you are looking at the Brazilian most in love with his country! And, although he is going to be ashamed of it, the one the Emperor is most proud of! So much so that Dom Pedro has insisted that he bring back some of his family heirlooms to decorate the Brazilian Pavilion!"

Embarrassed by this confidence in front of a stranger, Percevejo preferred to remain silent.

They finished savoring the pork roast in silence, but Rhett was no longer hungry. Where was she having dinner now? And after that, what is going to happen? It was better to drink to forget the night he was dreading...

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Wednesday 21 July 1876, 8pm, Parkinson's Restaurant, 180 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia

"What a pity Mrs. Vayton is not with us to share this dinner in this lovely place!"

Liam Roberts said it most sincerely. But both he and the other three breathed a sigh of relief.

"Yes, but my mother was a little tired after those two days at the exhibit. She preferred to have dinner in our suite so that she would be perfectly rested to face our last day in Philadelphia."

"We miss her already!" Scarlett did not mean a word of it, but she obliged out of politeness.

"What a great idea you had in choosing this restaurant! The praises of James Parkinson are being touted all the way to the kitchens of our most select restaurants in South Carolina." He turned to Scarlett, seated to his right: "You are about to find out why New York culinary columnists have named the Chef's menu the 'Thousand Dollar Dinner'!" (*1)

Scarlett almost choked. It was not customary for a gentleman to mention any notion of price when extending an invitation, and Scarlett understood that it was only a formula. But the young woman who had struggled so hard to earn her money was still taken aback. She chose humor: "I am curious to taste a potato wrapped in gold leaf and a chicken stuffed with diamonds!"

The four guests laughed quietly, because the tables set up outside under the rose garden were packed, and only with Philadelphia's most exclusive clientele during Centennial.

"You have summed up perfectly what lies ahead for us, Dear Scarlett. Which is why, if it is all right with you, Melina and Liam, I suggest we abandon our plans to go to the theatre so that we have time to enjoy these agapes with friends."

The four of them silently decided that it would be more pleasant to look each other in the eye than to be confined to a theatre seat and forced into silence.

"Are you finally going to tell us why this place is known all the way to New York?"

"The story is an old one, dating back to 1851. The two brothers running New York's Delmonico, which was already famous, challenged Parkinson, who claimed that American food was as good as the French recipes served at the Delmonico." (*2)

"The Delmonico? Their food is a treat in the Pullman restaurant car. If Rhett is to be believed, it is even more sumptuous in New York. He told me that, unless you have booked weeks in advance, or you are someone important, you have to put yourself on a waiting list to eat in their restaurant. Unless you know the owners and are received like a lord, like Rhett, of course..." Scarlett, who had begun her sentence with enthusiasm, finished it with a frown as she realized that once again she had not been able to stop herself from mentioning the man she had decided to put out of her mind.

Duncan thought the same thing, irritated to hear her mention him again. Once too often...

"Rhett?" Liam asked almost mechanically. "That man is lucky to have such a pass. Is he a politician?"

Duncan grudgingly replied, "Rhett Butler. He is Scarlett's former husband."

Liam, being a well-mannered man, was not rude enough to point out that his friend was making eyes at a divorced woman - a very beautiful one -... And with those green eyes that... But... "Did I hear that right? Rhett Butler? The brave blockade breaker who supplied us with weapons so many times at the risk of his life?"

The young woman's right foot tapped nervously on the terrace floor. Another one fooled by the altruistic devotion to the Cause of this arrogant war profiteer!

This time Duncan was about to explode with rage. But his friend did not know the truth about this odious character. Anyway, now was not the time to reveal it to him in front of Scarlett. He preferred to return to the gastronomic challenge.

"As I was saying, this duel, without swords but with forks, took place in both New York and Philadelphia. Just imagine: seventeen - very rich - gourmets gathered to taste, for twelve hours, no less, seventeen dishes. Well! It was American cuisine that came out on top, thanks to the inventiveness of the recipes created by Parkinson. I spare you the trouble of listing them all, but the most striking was undoubtedly the turtle steak." He was amused by the slight grimace on his sister's and Scarlett's faces: "I am not sure you would have voted for that one. But wait until the end of the meal to discover their desserts, and especially the house specialty!"

In the meantime, the maître d' had given them the menu. The choice was easy for everyone: "Truffled poultry braised in Champagne! Drizzled with an excellent Tokay from the best German cellar... Let the party begin!"

He knew that Scarlett would enjoy tasting the wines from the banks of the Rhine. However, Duncan took care to order lemonade for his sister.

Her brother was not aware of it, but Melina was already drunk. Drunk with the scent of her table-mate's discreet cologne; her cheeks already on fire from the heat radiating from this male presence sitting so close to her...

He had barely spoken to her. But his hand resting on the tablecloth just a few centimeters from hers and the metallic grey of his irises intermittently caressing her were enough to satisfy her.

"It is high time you revealed how you ended up in the entourage of a South American sovereign!"

Scarlett added: "Duncan is right. Melina and I are dying for it. It is strange... Seeing him this afternoon at that demonstration made by that man... Bell, I think, he looked like a charming, debonair old man. If the people present had not bowed down to him, he could have been mistaken for a respectable grandfather showing his grandchildren around Centennial."

Liam burst out laughing. "Oh, Scarlett! You are lovely and perceptive - partly. I can see why my friend enjoys your company so much!" He exchanged a knowing glance with him. "It is true that Dom Pedro cultivates simplicity. He is a monarch who is close to his people. But to call him a grandfather... Are you being at all cruel, my dear Scarlett?" Unaware of his friend's presence, he stared a little too long into her green eyes, then shook his head from left to right in denial, preferring to laugh it off: "This 'grandfather' is... 46 years old!"

"Really? I am confused..." She frowned in surprise, and did not realize she was voicing her comparison out loud, "But... Rhett is three years older than him! And yet..." She pinched her lower lip to chase away the image of the muscular, agile, domineering man who was in his prime to rob every petticoat that fluttered around him. And to embrace her so powerfully and roughly...

Duncan was on the verge of making a public scene, so exhausted was he of hearing 'Rhett' or 'Uncle Rhett' all day long. Fortunately, his friend answered his question:

"Duncan, you know how much Dom Pedro supported the Confederation by supplying us with warships. Well! True to his word, he continued to help the South at the end of the war. The idea was born in the mind of the first Southern colonist to flee defeat and settle in Brazil. Then Major Robert Meriwether - whom you know, of course, because he is from South Carolina - went there to find out about the possibility of establishing a colony. Dom Pedro liked the idea. He decided to offer all the former Confederates land for a ridiculously low price. He financed their transport to Rio de Janeiro, provided them with temporary accommodation on arrival and quickly granted them Brazilian citizenship." (*3)

"It was very generous of him. I confess that I was not aware of that migration because I was living in Paris at the time."

"Ah, let's not mention Paris because I keep the French people in my heart."

Once again, Scarlett wondered why he started staring at her again, while pretending to look behind her.

"The Emperor saw an opportunity to develop local cotton production for shipment to France and England, which had lost their source of supply with the collapse of the South. We also imported our technology, machinery and our abilities in farming, as well as new crops such as watermelons and pecans. In short, it was an immediate success. Gradually, the owners of the old cotton plantations and the farmers settled in the state of Sao Paolo, on the banks of a river, mainly in Santa Bárbara d'Oeste. But I doubt you have ever heard of this godforsaken place. Finally, the town has begun to grow in importance, especially with the recent construction of the railway line and the station. It is incredible to imagine the expansion: in the space of ten years, it is estimated that ten thousand Southerners have immigrated to Brazil." (*3)

Scarlett and Melina were as enthralled by Liam's tale as his friend. "What a fantastic adventure!"

"Yes, but the families who left the South, heartbroken, had no choice: their plantations and homes had been burnt down, or they could not accept Lee's defeat and the supremacy of the Yankee government. But adapting was not that easy. First of all, we had to deal with a major problem, the difference in religion and our forbidding to be buried in a Catholic cemetery; we had handle the difference in social morals because interracial marriages are common over there; all this, coupled with the change in nutrition and climate, still often made us homesick. I must admit that my parents still miss the gentle way of life in our Old South. No matter how hard I try to explain to them that that Southern softness is gone for good in the United States. But the nostalgia for our roots is tenacious in our community of Confederados, as we have been called over there.

"What do you mean? Did you and your parents move to Brazil?"

Liam puffed up his chest: "Yes, dear friends, you are looking at a Confederado! When we disembarked on the quay in Rio de Janeiro, the Emperor was waiting for our group, as he sometimes did at the start of the immigration of former Confederates. (*3) Luckily, he noticed me. And so, over the years, he has honored me with his friendship. And here I am today, following him to the Centennial, which has allowed me to find you again, my Friend. This business trip was a success, because in the Machine Hall I found a new system that will make it easier to process the bales of cotton from my plantation, and above all new looms for my spinning mill. By the way, if you have time tomorrow, take a look at the Agricultural Hall. The cotton of Roberts Company helped decorate the Brazil Pavilion."

He suddenly looked serious, surprised even by what he was about to say: "Do you realize, Duncan, my textile factory is one of the biggest in Brazil! We have come a long way since we had to leave the South... "

Duncan congratulated him with the same seriousness: "I am not surprised by your success, my friend. You are brilliant, honest and brave. You have given me an idea: if I saw samples of your fabrics, I might be able to use them for La Mode Duncan. We shall have to meet again soon."

Melina finally dared to speak: "It must have been hard to leave your native home!"

He replied sadly, "Oh... my house... It went up in flames, like nine-tenths of Alexandria..."

The former officer Duncan nodded, having experienced the tragic Red River Campaign 'from the inside' with his friend. His sister frowned and spoke softly, in a fit of sympathy for the Confederado: "Alexandria, Louisiana? My God, we have all heard about this tragedy. I am so sad for you and your family, Liam!"

He patted the top of her hand lightly in thanks: "I am touched by your concern, Melina. The night of 13 May 1864 will always be remembered as Hell. And the man who opened its gates, and boasted about it, was that damned Brigadier General Smith with his regiment detached from that of another criminal, William Sherman! (*4)

"Sherman!" The hatred and rage still alive pierced Scarlett's scream at the mere mention of this hated general.

"While I was with Duncan at the front, my parents told me about this nightmare night: the first Union regiments had left the city without doing any damage. But Smith, previously under Sherman, decided otherwise. Some of his soldiers set fire to various parts of the town. With the heat and the drought, the wooden houses were burnt to a crisp. To make sure everything was destroyed and to continue their "Hard War" policy, they sprayed the fences and stone buildings with an explosive mixture of turpentine and camphene. Children and old alike tried to escape. Animals were burnt alive. Some people, like my parents, tried to save a few possessions. But they had to give up everything to try and save their lives. It was all bell-ringing, explosions, screams of terror and groans of suffering and agony. Yes, hell on earth" (*4)

"Five months later, on 15 November, Sherman opened another door to Hell by setting fire to Atlanta! I shall never forget..." Scarlett finished her sentence with a lump in her throat.

Unafraid to display his closeness to Scarlett in front of his sister, Duncan took her hand and pressed it against his cheek to infuse her with his warmth before kissing her devotedly. "My brave Scarlett..."

She was touched by this tender gesture. What did it matter that it was done in public? They were in Philadelphia, nobody knew them, and they looked like a married couple.

Witnessing the great seducer's behavior, Liam intuited that Duncan was seriously in love. And yet he had sworn to the gods, when they were enjoying a respite on the battle fields, that he would never, oh never, allow himself to be overtaken by passion again. And now this beautiful woman with green eyes and jet-black hair was trapping him in her web. A beautiful woman with green eyes and jet-black hair... No! I too swore a long time ago to draw a line under my love. That is in the past now. Instead, I need to distract myself by enjoying the presence of the delicious Melina. I have the strangest feeling that she is succeeding in making my heart beat again...

"I promised you a surprise for dessert. Duncan consulted the menu brought by the butler: "Ever since the Marquis de La Fayette was won over by Parkinson's special vanilla ice cream, people have been coming to this Restaurant to taste his two inventions: his pistachio ice cream, and even better, the Champagne frappé with ice cream. Enticing, isn't it?"

Sad memories aside, the evening continued, as light as the unforgettable Champagne frappé à la glace. All the more so as the Continental Hotel was holding a ball in its grand reception hall.

The two young men alternated dances with the two ladies.

Melina's heart was racing to the rhythm of the waltz each time the Confederado embraced her - with the appropriate distance required for an unmarried woman from a good family. She had never felt - and she was certain she never would - such elation in the arms of Alexander Dean.

Liam enjoyed watching the pretty blue-eyed blonde blush under his embrace. Her candor was refreshing and a melancholy reminder of the sweetness of the Old South he had abandoned. What a pity to have to leave the United States so soon, he regretted.

Duncan shamelessly took advantage of his appearance as a husband to place his hand on Scarlett's lower back in order to press - as far as decency would allow - her tempting breasts against his tuxedo jacket. He whispered in her ear: "October... Am I going to be able to wait this eternity? You are putting me through the ordeal of a Tantalus.

This delighted the "cruel" Scarlett. All she could think about was dancing, dancing! If the most handsome man in the South cooed at her while surreptitiously slipping her words of love, it was all the more enjoyable. Dancing until she was intoxicated, trying to forget the Irish ball in Washington, and the lascivious Habanera Cubana pressed up against Rhett Butler's burning body...

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Wednesday, 21 July 1876, 10pm, on board the liner Ville de Bordeaux, in the Atlantic Ocean

He served Archibald and Nikolaas again.

When it was Percevejo's turn, the man sitting next to the young man politely pushed Rhett's arm away. "He is too young to drink alcohol."

Percevejo looked embarrassed. He replied diplomatically: "I prefer water. And he picked up the carafe.

Archibald exchanged a knowing glance with Rhett. A young boy drinking a glass of wine was not a matter of state in France! Nevertheless, Rhett had the intelligence to apologize flatly. "I am sorry I was mistaken about his age, but your son is so tall he looks twenty."

Indeed, at first glance, the young man's slender stature could be misleading. On closer inspection, however, his shoulders were not yet of mature build, and his fine features betrayed his youth. With his big, innocent eyes and thick, curly hair, he looks like an angel painted by Michelangelo. But an angel born in Brazil, with sun-tanned skin and jet-black hair".

Nikolaas seemed satisfied with his answer. He proudly patted the boy's biceps: "Yes, you will soon be overtaking me if you keep growing. As for the muscles, that's what you get for riding over hill and dale in the pampas!"

Uneasy at the attention being focused on him, Percevejo tried to put an end to it: "Pai..."

But "Pai" - which Rhett had managed to translate as "father" - had finally let his guard down in front of the stranger. He teased the young man gently: "If you want to keep those muscles, you are going to have to find another physical sport now that you are virtually a "prisoner" in Rio de Janeiro! I hope you have signed up for competitions at your Arts et Métiers Lyceums!"

"The Ecole des Arts et Métiers? That is interesting, Percevejo. What did you choose as your specialization section?"

Nikolaas did not let him answer Rhett's question and proudly proclaimed: "Gemology! This brilliant young man is going to learn the most beautiful profession in the world, that of diamond-cutter, so that he can take over from me!"

Percevejo lowered his head to hide his pout. Rhett laughed under his breath: Another father who wants to impose his choices on his son. I am curious to know whether this obedient young man will bend to his father's will.

Rhett insisted that they stay a little longer in the men's lounge, but Nikolaas decided it was time for him and Percejevo to return to their little bedroom.

So the Charlestonian and the Frenchman remade the world, drinking to Art, France and women. Although especially not a certain woman...

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Notes on chapter 59 :

(*1) James Parkinson's restaurant, 180 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia: I confess I 'cheated' on the date by setting my story in 1876: according to the information I found, James Parkinson (who died in 1895) withdrew from his restaurant in the 1860s. However, he was still very active and writing columns about the quality of American cuisine in 1876. He would have liked the Centennial to focus more on American rather than French cuisine, but it seems that there was a political dispute. In any case, Parkinson's famous recipes continued to be served and celebrated for a long time (perhaps at the same address, but I haven't found any other information). A book was recently dedicated to this thousand-dollar dinner. The first address in 1853 was in 1017-1019 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, according to a picture shown by the Library of Congress ( .gov/pictures/item/2002725450/.)

(*2) Restaurant Delmonico New York: see chapter 41 Finally Alone. Until 1862 it was located at 56 Beaver Street; from 1862 to 1876 it moved to Fifth Avenue and 14th Street - from 1876 to 1897, Fifth Avenue and 26th Street - from 1897 to the present day, Fifth Avenue and 44th Street.

(*3) The Confederados were Southerners who immigrated to Brazil, mostly on the banks of the Ribeirão Quilombo river, which at the time belonged to the municipality of Santa Bárbara d'Oeste, and is now the town of Americana.

Every year, the descendants of these early Southern emigrants celebrate this event in the town of origin, Americana, Santa Barbara d'Oeste.

The Confederacy Made Its Last Stand in Brazil - news/confederacy-in-brazil-civil-war

Confederados, Wikipedia, wiki/Confederados

(*4) The burning of Alexandria, Louisiana: on 13th May 1864, the Union Army withdrew from Alexandria towards the Mississippi River. The last of the regiments to leave the town, Brigadier General Smith's, set fire to various buildings and houses. 9/10 of the town was destroyed.

Source The burning of Alexandria - /burning-alexandria

Video: reading of a handwritten affidavit relating the eyewitness accounts of the burning of Alexandria in 1864 during the Civil War, found at St. James Episcopal Church (source Melinda Martinez, Alexandria Town Talk

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