Charlotte in London

By Joan MacPhail Knight and Melissa Sweet

A nineteenth-century American girl journals her trip to London where she meets famous painters like John Singer Sargeant, learns about art, and more.

It’s 1895. Charlotte and her American family came to France three years ago so her father could learn to paint in the French Impressionist style. Now Charlotte and her parents are traveling to London to see if the famous—and very busy—artist John Singer Sargeant will paint Charlotte’s mother’s portrait.

In London, Charlotte and her best friend, Lizzy, share a room at the Savoy Hotel, Charlotte decides to help track down Mr. Sargeant and records her many adventures with Lizzy: They watch fireworks on the banks of the Thames, keep an eye out for London’s legendary ghosts, find out why ravens are kept in the Tower of London, and visit Madame Tussaud’s waxworks.

Illustrated with stunning museum reproductions and exquisite watercolor paintings, Charlotte in London also includes biographical sketches of the featured painters. This vibrant journal of Charlotte’s exciting journey will make any reader long for lovely, lively London.

Praise for Charlotte in London 

“[A] handsomely illustrated journal. . . . As in previous books, much care and thought have been put into the book’s design. Sweet’s own illustrations are small gems, but there are interesting reproductions here as well. For readers who want to know more, there’s plenty of back matter to inform. A bloomin’ delight.” —Booklist 

“Featured artists’ biographical information provides added depth to the period. There’s much to explore in the mixed-media and watercolor art. Art aficionados and fans of Charlotte in Paris . . . and Charlotte in Giverny . . . will enjoy these vivid British travels.” —School Library Journal

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Jan 4, 2013
• ISBN: 9781452125688

Book preview

April 1, 1895

Rue de l’Amiscourt

Giverny

I knew Monsieur Monet was back from Norway when I walked Toby past his garden this morning and smelled turpentine. I opened the gate and there he was with twenty canvases lined up in a row, all of the same snowy mountain in different light.

When I told him we’re going to London, he put his paintbrush down and said, J’adore Londres—I love London. Parfois, après la brume—sometimes, after a fog—the river turns to gold. C’est étonnant,—it’s remarkable—he added, and went back to his painting.

I can’t wait to see that!

The Fosters are coming with us. Lizzy Foster is my best friend and we do everything together. Her father came to Giverny from Boston for the same reason mine did: to learn to paint en plein air—outdoors—the way the French Impressionists do. Everyone wants to study where the great master, Monsieur Monet, lives.

In London, Mama wants to have her portrait painted by the famous artist Mr. John Singer Sargent. Papa says there are so many people ahead of her, she’ll be lucky to get her foot in the door. Mama says she’ll find out if she can get her foot in the door when she gets there. Now she’s in Paris with Mrs. Foster, shopping for shoes to wear for her London sitting.

This afternoon our cook, Raymonde, sent me to the store for bleach, eau de javel, to whiten the tablecloths. Along the way, Toby ran into the pâtisserie, just like always. Only this time he didn’t come out with a croissant—he came out with my friend Hippolyte! Hippolyte told me he had come here from Paris with a friend and that I could never guess how—not if I had a hundred guesses! Then he said:

"We came without a stop . . .

Without a sound . . .

Without a footstep on the ground."

Lots of people come here by boat from Paris, I laughed.

Pas moi!—Not me! Meet me at eight in the morning in Duboc’s field, he said, the one where the Americans go to try to copy Monsieur Monet’s haystack paintings. Ne retarde pas!—Don’t be late!

What could it be? I wonder. I’m going straight to Lizzy’s to tell her!

April 2, 1895

Rue de l’Amiscourt

Giverny

Raymonde made us a picnic lunch. I ran with the basket to Lizzy’s house. When I got there, Lizzy was practicing the violin. While I waited for her to finish, I peeked into the picnic basket to see what Raymonde had made for us:

Our favorites!

The second Lizzy finished practicing, she put her violin away and we raced to the hayfield at the edge of town. In the distance was a giant