1816: the Grandest Tour

France: Chapter 9

Louis XVIII needed no old-fashioned wig to achieve the previous century's dignified white atop his head. His hair, though still full, was snowy as the Alps (though surely not so cold in this room, George thought). He wore a dark blue military coat, decorated with a light blue sash and several star brooches, one of which Tobias recognized as England's 'Most Noble Order of the Garter.' The men and women of his household were also dressed in great finery, but the boys had little idea who any of them were.

As the king and royal suite took their places front and center there was no concealing the buzz and murmur that grew among the onlookers on the fringes. The fact of the matter was, the sovereign was fat – grossly, undeniably so. But the extent of his obesity seemed to be what really shocked the many first-time observers. The king looked like he could barely walk, and the stiff discomfort in which he stood awaiting the priests was all too obvious.

The Mass began without delay. At the elevation of the Host everyone with a bench knelt for two lengthy minutes, but aside from this it was an abbreviated affair. The chamber orchestra played solemn accompaniment to the liturgy, and at last the stewards opened the outer doors to let the crush of people out, from whence they ushered them to the great Salle des Maréchaux, the Hall of Marshals.

This room was mercifully much larger, and hung with eighteen full-length portraits of previous Marshals of France. The stewards formed everyone in two halves along either side of the hall, and while they waited again for the monarch Dr. Boxborough directed the boys' attention to the exquisite chandeliers, marble inlay of the walls, and intricate corbeling under the hall's gallery.

Then with a similar flourish as before, the loud herald announced the approach of Le Roi. This time the king's step looked a little more sprightly, and he slowly made his way up the middle of the hall, giving a graceful nod to some, a bow to others, and to a favored few his hand to kiss. George and the others were near the far end of the room, so his progress began to feel glacial. But as he finally neared them George felt a hand grip his upper arm. He turned to see Tobias white and visibly trembling from nerves. It occurred to George that his friend had probably never even been to a fashionable assembly, let alone set eyes on actual royalty. He steadied his companion with a reassuring look and pat on the shoulder, though he'd begun to feel rather light in the stomach himself. He glanced at Hugh, whose expression looked like a ferret in an unguarded hen-house, then Robert, who was simply bored.

George turned back to see the King of France beaming straight into his face. He nearly fell over, and Tobias really did. As he and the others scrambled to get their friend upright, the sovereign looked very much like he wanted to say something, but held himself to another warm smile and a very stately bow. With the slightest nod of recognition to Dr. Boxborough, he resumed his progress. A footman behind the king whispered something to the doctor, to which he gave a pleased bow. Boxborough leaned over to his young charges to say they'd just been invited to attend His Majesty at an audience that afternoon. The four tourists looked at each other in wonder, then stared along with the rest of the room as the French sovereign stepped out on his balcony overlooking the Jardins des Tuileries. There were now several thousand Parisians and foreigners assembled, waiting down by the lawns and fountains for this weekly event with the Bourbon monarch. At the first sight of the king the crowd rose to tumultuous applause. At least it was mostly applause, for there was a definite chance they heard some less complimentary shouts from the throng, though nothing distinct. Louis raised his hand in a gesture full of dignity, part greeting and part blessing for every soul of Paris, and held this smile and gesture for several minutes.

The young gentlemen and Boxborough spent the afternoon walking the Quai d'Orsay, then relaxed in a riverside cafe. At the appointed hour they made their way back to the palace and were admitted from a smaller side entrance. A footman conducted them up and through dizzying halls and stairs until they reached a sizable anteroom. Here they saw a considerable crowd of visitors like themselves: mainly foreigners, well dressed, but whose nobility or station had not been conclusively established. Noting a few of the more bourgeois-looking English visitors, Hugh harrumphed that they should at least have been led to a room fit for gentlemen. The others, not wishing to encourage him, remained silent.