The Connoisseur

Chapter 6 - Sophisticated Decadence

Alexander thrust open the doors, and they emerged onto a cobbled street of high, elegant townhouses, some in white, some in fading yellow, some in blue and others in brick red.  Candles and lamps hung from every windowpane, and the first person Sophia saw was a workman in a smock and cap, lighting a streetlamp with a long taper.  He saw them approach and tugged his cap.  “Mein Herr, meine Dame.”

“Guten tag, arbeiter,” said Alexander. 

Of course he speaks German, thought Sophia, staring wide-eyed at the sights of the city.  She heard the rumbling of wheels behind her and the two of them stepped out of the way of a sturdy black coach pulled by a team of plumed horses, its doors emblazoned with a dense coat of arms.  The driver tugged his hat also, holding the reins with one hand.

“It is the October the twenty-ninth, 1787,” said Alexander as they walked.  “The American Revolution ended four years ago, and the French Revolution will commence in two.  These are the last days of the ancien regime, and European high culture is at what some would say is its most sophisticated, and others its most decadent point.”

“And what do you say?” asked Sophia.  She could smell rich, earthy cooking, smoke, dirt and perfume all at once.

“I do not cast moral judgements,” said Alexander.  “If it is beautiful, it is beautiful.  And tonight will be astoundingly beautiful.  And a little raucous, I should think.  Look!  Here we are.”

They emerged in a large square, surrounded by extraordinary architecture.  Above one flank of buildings rose the dark gothic spires of a cathedral; above another, the light white dome of a second huge church, this time in the baroque style; on another side, a high tower with a huge astronomical clock face, half-hidden by the dark of the night.  Firelight danced in every window and songs spilled out of nearby taverns.  The square was milling with people in high fashionable dress, bejewelled and bewigged, all heading in the same direction and chattering incessantly as coaches drove between them.  Sophia put a white-gloved hand to her mouth, trying to maintain her calm, but her eyes roved over every surface, every brick and thread and inch of skin, taking in every conversation, every smile, every burst of laughter from the crowd.  They were real people.  They were all real people!

“This is the Old Town Square of Prague, capital of Bohemia, second city of the Habsburg monarchs,” said Alexander, leading her through the crowd.  “It is prosperous and wealthy, but also the most musically literate city in Europe.  We are journeying to the National Theatre, opened only four years ago, to see the premiere of a new opera.”

“Opera?”  Sophia couldn’t keep her eyes off the crowd.  “I’ve never been.”

“This may be the one to experience.  Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, whose Marriage of Figaro went down so well here last year, has decided to premiere his new piece in Prague.  Tonight, Don Giovanni gets its first outing, and Herr Mozart himself is conducting.”  He smiled devilishly at her.  “It’s a little more exciting than your local am-drams, don’t you think?”

“Now, don’t show off,” said Sophia, leaning on his arm.

“I don’t mean to sound gauche,” said Alexander, “But you’re two hundred years out of your own time, wearing clothes that a Duchess will gaze on with envy, and you’re about to see the most celebrated musician of all time conduct one of his most celebrated works.  At this point, I’m not sure if I can stop showing off.”

“You know, just this once, Mr. Hartigan, I think I’ll let you carry on.”

Ahead was the theatre, all neo-classical pillars and pediments, and lit by a thousand lamps.  Every type of carriage, open-topped, closed, long and luxurious, stocky and sealed, coupés, sedans and phaetons, pulled by teams of one, two and four, were arriving at the bottom of the stairs, disgorging their passengers on the pavement.  There were gentlemen in a rainbow of coloured coats, grand older ladies with towering hair, young women in gathered gowns who mocked their elders, and many of those in less lavish dress also, the shopkeepers and goodwives of the city come to chase the delights of the high life.