CLOTILDE’S school year of 1867 began with the arrival of three new children as more ships continued to reach Noumea carrying settlers and supplies. Two of her eldest students left the Government School bound for France and the homes of relatives. Here they would complete the remaining years of their upper school education before returning home to Noumea once again. With their loss and the addition of one extra desk, Clotilde was happy to accommodate the newcomers. One day after school was dismissed, she and Blandine sorted through a box of new school supplies. Again her eyes fell upon two more large boxes of pastels. Their colours were breath taking and included every hue under the sun.
‘Blandine, if only I knew what to do with these beautiful art supplies, I would offer art lessons to a small group of students. Have you ever worked with pastels before?’
‘No, I never have, but I’ve often wished that I could study art. I seem to remember that Henriette Maison, the wife of an officer, has a great ability in the field of botanical art. Her flower drawings and paintings are so well done that she sends them to the National Horticultural Society in Paris. The staff members there are very interested in documenting the flora of France’s many colonies.’
‘Would you approach her to see if she would teach us how to draw flowering plants and use these pastels to colour them?’
‘Yes, I’ll visit her when I finish helping you here. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if she would accept the two of us as her students?’
‘If she agrees, I will offer her a set of new watercolour paints and two brushes. We have extra ones here that I may never use.’
Several days later Blandine returned with good news. ‘Henriette will be happy to give us six lessons and will offer these at the school on a Wednesday afternoon, after the students leave.’
And so the two young women enthusiastically began their study of floral botanical art. They first learned how to draw in pencil and then apply the colours. Next they blended these with a small square of chamois, to create a picture with depth. They practiced setting out the seed pods, the young plants with their exposed roots, then crowning the collection with a mature flowering plant and its bud together on a single stem. These items were arranged on the paper in various compositions. Clotilde’s front garden provided them with specimens for their study. When the lessons had finished and Clotilde felt experienced enough, she offered floral botanical drawing to her class. Three of the older girls were eager to begin and soon Wednesday afternoon classes became their new focus.
As the weather grew cooler, plants with different colours were needed so Clotilde and the three girls packed their pencils, pastels and sketching boards and moved to the Government Garden. Here they could work out of doors in the afternoon sunlight. They found benches to sit on near some of the more unusual flower beds. Occasionally people on their daily walks would stop to smile and chat, admiring their artistic efforts. One afternoon Jacques presented Clotilde with a beautiful plant, resplendent with colourful foliage and crowned with a deep golden canna lily. He placed it on the ground before her, smiled and then moved quickly away. When it rained during the next week a visit to the garden became impossible. To her surprise, a glass jar filled with a bouquet of vividly coloured flowers appeared on her back table. She knew who had brought it and felt gratitude for this thoughtful gesture. She left the empty jar on her table with a thank you note slipped underneath it. The next day the jar and its note were both gone.
Three weeks had passed and Clotilde spoke to Yvonne with some consternation. ‘Satine must be very busy. So much time has passed since I last spoke with her. Have you heard any news that might explain why she hasn’t seen either of us?’ Walking with Yvonne in the garden the following Sunday afternoon, she finally caught a glimpse of Satine, strolling ahead on the arm of a young man. He was dressed in the uniform of a French military officer. As soon as Satine noticed Clotilde, she and her partner hurried over to greet them.
‘Clotilde and Yvonne, I’d like you to meet Germond. He arrived here in Nouvelle-Caledonie for the renaming day, to escort the Vicar Apostolic and the Governor.’
‘I’m delighted to meet you both,’ he replied in a resonant voice. ‘Satine has spoken often of you. We met after she played and sang for us so beautifully at the Commandant’s dinner. It has been my pleasure to spend Sunday afternoons with her since then.’
‘And it is my pleasure to meet you, Germond.’ Clotilde couldn’t help but notice how radiant and happy Satine looked and she felt a deep sense of joy for her friend. Perhaps Satine had found someone to love and care for her.
‘Later this year Germond will be recalled to the main administration centre in Tahiti. I know this seems very sudden, but he has asked me to go away with him when he leaves. When his orders are finalized, I will request that Anne Fleurier and the Commandant allow me to leave their service. Germond and I can then be married before we depart for Tahiti. Oh, Clotilde, I can hardly believe that I may be leaving Nouvelle-Caledonie before Christmas. I have been waiting for an opportunity to tell you this news and today it has finally happened.’
‘Congratulations, Satine and Germond. I wish you both much happiness. Please come and visit me before you finally leave. Father Gilbert will miss your organ playing so much.’
Germond replied, ‘There are many ships carrying settlers that will arrive here during the next few years, Clotilde. Noumea will grow larger and another musician will surely be among the new arrivals.’
Saying their farewells the two groups went their separate ways, but before the day was finished Clotilde experienced yet another surprise. When she reached her home, a letter from Mater Dei had been slipped under the front door. Tearing open the letter Clotilde noticed that the handwriting was not that of Sister Celeste, but belonged instead to Mother Germain. Sitting down at her schoolroom desk she began to read its contents.
Our dear Clotilde,
Over the past several years we have enjoyed receiving your letters and learning about the life you are experiencing on the other side of the world. All of us here at Mater Dei are very proud of your achievements, both as a teacher in the Government School and in the way you are living out your days as a fine young woman. Unfortunately this letter also contains a piece of news that will bring sadness to your heart.
I know how close you were to Sister Celeste and how eagerly she awaited your letters. She loved you in a special way and always kept you in her prayers and thoughts.
Several weeks ago a dreadful sickness spread through Paris and Sister Celeste became very ill with a high fever. We nursed her and prayed continually. Three days later as her fever increased, our dear Celeste died a peaceful death. On the night before she left us she whispered this message.
‘Tell my dearest Clotilde that I will always love her and will keep watch over her in the years ahead.’ And so dear heart, we all send you our loving comfort and sympathy. Please keep your letters coming to us as we never forget ‘our girls.’
With our love and prayers,
Mother Germain
One cannot describe the deep feeling of loss that washed over Clotilde as she read these words. She would soon lose the joy and closeness of Satine’s presence and her only other experience of being loved was taken from her now, through the death of Sister Celeste. The terrible sense of aloneness and loss she had first experienced as a tiny child, brought to the Mater Dei Orphanage, nearly smothered her once again. She cried through the night until a deep sleep finally settled over her. In the following morning, sunshine streamed in through her bedroom window, bringing a new sense of hope and purpose. ‘Sister Celeste is with me,’ she whispered to herself. ‘I can feel her loving presence. She will watch over me and all will be well.’