1816: the Grandest Tour

France: Chapter 13

During their extensive time together, Dr. Boxborough politely rebuffed even the slightest question from George or Tobias regarding his series of curious encounters. The closest he came to giving them any information was to say it was old business and best forgotten by everyone. In apparent furtherance of this design, the doctor announced one day they would at last visit that greatest home of the Muses, the Louvre.

The Palais du Louvre, former Musée Napoléon under the Empire, contained all the masterpieces they could have hoped to find and more. Despite the return of many famous works back whence the Grande Armée had appropriated them – to Venice, Berlin, the Vatican, and a hundred other places – the Louvre had been able to keep, for instance, almost half of its 'acquired' Italian paintings. So it was not without reason that Louis XVIII declared, while taking stock of his reduced collection, "Allons, nous sommes encore riches!"

Their first incursion took them through the sculpture galleries. Here Dr. Boxborough spoke of the Hellenistic heritage in the plastic arts, illustrating his points with examples like the Venus of Arles, the Borghese Gladiator, and the sublime Diana of Versailles. An intriguing detour led them to some of the museum's most recent additions: the fabulous antiquities of Egypt. These were arguably the only lasting fruits of the young general Napoleon's ruinously expensive and bloody Egyptian Campaign. But looking on the strangely peaceful, enigmatic faces of these three- or even four-thousand-year-old figures, with their fascinating panels of hieroglyphs, George could not help but think that these treasures had arguably greater value than any short-lived control over a far-flung chunk of the Turkish Empire. Dr. Boxborough informed his pupils that great progress was underway with interpreting the Rosetta Stone, which had been handed over to Britain after France's 1801 surrender at Alexandria.

The Medieval collection they found harder going. While George did his best to follow the doctor's commentary, and Tobias hung on every word, Robert and Hugh soon made it clear the subject was not to their liking. George had to admit that even he had trouble making any distinction between the dozens of diptychs and altar pieces on the Annunciation, Crucifixion, and Adoration of the Magi, concluding he should have given more study to the Gothic period. So by the time the other two had finished their fifth bout of thumb-wrestling, and set up Robert's hat as a receptical for horse-shoes (substituting their gloves for throwing items), George put in a timely word with Boxborough that everyone was eager to proceed to the Italian Renaissance.

The doctor obliged, and soon the party found itself in the immense, long galleries showcasing the crown jewels of the museum. They moved in a measured pace from early masters like Botticelli to the workshops of Florence, Venice, and Milan, while Boxborough built his interpretation of the period to a climax in the masterpieces of that undisputed genius of the Italian school: Raphael. They spent ample time on each of the artist's major canvasses, and the doctor displayed such raptures of enthusiasm that all four of his listeners could not help but share his opinions exactly. After the fifth or sixth such scene, however, the ever-roving eyes of Hugh and Robert started to wander to other artists. Boxborough was all encouragement however, and urged each of them to seek out pieces of their own liking.

George stared a long time at Veronese's Marriage Feast at Cana, which in its immense size could have filled a small gallery by itself, if divided up. Hugh found a rather curious composite portrait of a man made of different vegetables, which the doctor identified as the excellent (if odd) Arcimboldo. Tobias was overwhelmed, unable to focus on any individual works as he tried to appreciate everything in every room. And Robert, curiously, stopped his puzzled gaze in front of a minor work of the Milanese school.

"Ah, La Gioconda of da Vinci," said Boxborough. "Sometimes called Mona Lisa. It is a rather queer portrait, I must say. Not worthy of his other achievements. This is a copy, in fact, of a much superior original which I've seen in Somerset. I'm not at all sure what he was trying to achieve by altering the woman's face so much – perhaps meld his own features with hers. He was a tinkerer in any case: prone to such eccentricities."