1816: the Grandest Tour

France: Chapter 18

Once they were sat down to breakfast, George could see that Hugh had been thinking through the implications of their sudden 'freedom' from the doctor's influence.

"I propose we call at the tailor's this afternoon," said Hugh, wiping some jam from the corner of his mouth. "Now that we can set our own schedule, we finally have the time."

Robert said this was a fine idea. Even Tobias and George had been thinking they should update their wardrobes after seeing the effortless suavité of the painter Géricault.

So on setting forth from the Prince de Galles, their first port of call was a nearby shop purveying every sort of manly and fashionable habiliment. The staff were most obliging, spoke eccentric but passable English, and in a matter of minutes had their measurements and several orders from each gentleman. The young men ordered mainly waistcoats and trousers. They felt their jackets and greatcoats were little different from what they saw other men wearing, and new ones might take prohibitively long to construct.

This errand done, they bought tickets for the opera that evening and passed the afternoon in the Luxembourg Gardens. George and Tobias eventually persuaded the others to go inside the Luxembourg Palace to see its famous pictures. Though it was now the home of the French Senate, some rooms remained open to the public and the young men found grand works by Correggio, David, and the ubiquitous Rubens.

Evening arrived, and the opera impressed one and all. They generally agreed the singing and music were superior to what they'd seen in England, even if the stage decoration was a little drab. Hugh was particularly smitten with the girls in the chorus, and declared he would be most interested to wait at the stage door and make their acquaintance. For the improvement of his French skills, naturally. So at the end of the show George and the others indulged him, and went to the rear of the building. As ill-luck would have it, they arrived to find a good two-dozen Frenchmen already waiting for the choral artistes in question. Dick Blackford remarked how odd it was that so many fellows would need instruction in their own language. Hugh shot him a salty glare and stormed off. Seeing the plan aborted, the others followed him back to the carriage.

This incident seemed to harden Hugh's resolve. The following morning he declared that after collecting his new clothes he was going straight to the Palais Royal, whether anyone else cared to join him or not. Robert bucked up at this and voiced a lusty 'hear-hear!' Tobias looked utterly scandalized. George, remembering Dr. Boxborough's unequivocal damning of the place, was nevertheless intrigued. It couldn't be all that bad, could it? There were a good many recommended restaurants in the complex, he reasoned with Tobias. They could have a nice meal, a leisurely walk around the place, and that would be the end of it. Tobias was a sheltered and loyal son of the Reformed wing of the Church, but after a few more misgivings he finally consented.

They fixed on a place for dinner, then called on the tailor to pick up their wardrobe improvements. Returning immediately to the hotel try them on, they emerged toward the afternoon in (they hoped) the height of Paris fashion. Into the carriage they piled and rode the short jog to the palace, little knowing what to expect of the evening ahead. They stopped in the Rue de Montpensier and Isaac held open the carriage door. All four of the gentlemen had opted to wear new form-fitting, calfskin breeches. The coincidence was unplanned, but by the time they'd all emerged from their rooms it was too late to change. The things were too impossibly tight to remove. So with all the dignity they could muster, the four friends stepped down and started toward the palace.

Walking the short distance to the restaurant, Chez Oswald, George and the others began to appreciate the extraordinary effort it took, in these breeches, to maintain a normal gait. But they hobbled on, determined not to look like fools, and at last reached the doors. A host escorted the party down to their table in a space half-underground. The restaurant was a dim, cavernous series of rooms lit by small chandeliers. Curving vaults of brick made up the ceiling, and a small ensemble of musicians was playing towards the back. It was uncrowded as yet, being an hour or two still earlier than most Parisians took their evening meal.