The Grand Tour

Article № 2

Literally speaking, “grand tour” means “big journey”, a French phrase because in the latter half of the eighteenth century, at the time of its flourishing, all educated people spoke French (and, if they were male, had a knowledge of Latin and often Greek). For the well-born young men setting off on their Grand Tour, it was indeed a big journey, one that would take them all round Europe and give them the opportunity to learn the nature and significance of their own cultural roots. It was a cultural search in the broadest sense. These youths were thought to be, in an age innocent of democracy, the future leaders of the country, and it was essential that they should understand their heritage as fully as possible.

They did not venture out alone, however. The Grand Tourists travelled with an entourage, prominent among whom was the tutor, the scholary cleric whose task it was to foster the educational purposes of the journey. The Grand Tour – and did – last for several years, involving prolonged residence in the sitesof special importance. Athens was high on this list, as indeed were Rome and the major cities of Italy, from which so much of our civilisation has come. It was intended to be a serious learning process, a secular version of the pilgrimages of the religious past, and if it seemed often to fail in this, the same comment could be levelled at those very pilgrimages. Preachers in the Middle Ages were always thundering denunciations of pilgrims who appeared primarily bent on the excitements of travel, seekers of pleasure rather than grace. For the most enlightened, the two ends probably did not seem uncomplementary.

Through the kindness of BBC, I probably travelled in greater comfort than the wealthy milord, who bumped along the rough roads of pre-industrial Europe in a lumbering carriage, staying at flea-infested inns and encountering the hazards of a foreign menu. And of course, I could never have gone on my own, asking the Carmelite sisters at Quidenham to pay for me, however intense my desire.

Yet, let me confess, the desire was not all that intense. The Grand Tour is essentially for the young, whoes stamina is up to its surprises. Not onle am I an ancient of 1930s vintage, but I have chosen a lifestyle which offers the bliss of living alone in prayer.that is a happiness so real, so humbling, that no other experience, however splendid, can compare. When kind people asked me if I was enjoing myself on my Grand Tour, I all too often found it hard to say “yes”. I would then feel ashamed of seeming so ungrateful, and after much tactless honesty, I found the truthful answer. I would never want to leave my solitude. But relatively, since it had become clear tome that there was a certain value for people in what I said about art, then I accepted with gratitude this great chanceto see some of the most wonderful things that human beings have ever created. Now that the travelling is over, and I am back in silence again, the memoirs are happy ones.

In making my programmes, I hoped to be a tool for people to see through, a sort of human magnifying glass. I have been greately touched and encouraged by the kind response to my previous series, but it was a disappointment to find that people were not only interested in the art, but they were also interested in me. It is the habit that does it. The veil and the cloack and the long black robe have a fascination for those who may not realise that beneath them is a rather dull woman. But if looking at, instead of merely through the magnifying glass helps someone to see the art more truly, then it is not important. I look forward to the day when it will dawn upon everybody that they can haveodysseys and Grand Tours and share the fruits of the world. The capacity to see, to open up the vision of reality that an artist offers, is innate in us all. The greatest reward I could have is know that, despite my inadequacies, more and more people are coming to believe in their own powers of artistic appreciation.

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