1816: the Grandest Tour

France: Chapter 4

George, Hugh, Tobias, and Robert rose early the next morning. They first collected Tobias' trunks from the customs house, where the officials demanded another fee for the expense of bringing up the man from Boulogne (just a few hours ride away), and the exorbitant inconvenience of storing his bags in their warehouse for two nights. Nevertheless, Tobias cheerfully paid the sum owing, making the custom officers wish they'd asked him for more.

They hired a driver for their coach on the hotel owner's advice. His name was Leclerc and he had a great hook nose – almost as big as Dick Blackford's. He had stringy black hair which he tied at the back in the old style, a shifty eye, and he and Blackford seemed to understand each other. They took the front seats of the coach while Isaac sat at the back end, though Dick assured him they would switch every few hours.

Leclerc knew the roads of Normandy well, and asked if there were any sights they should like to visit before they reached Amiens. The four tourists considered the question together for some minutes, before asking their driver if he knew of any ancient convents lying along the route. He answered with alacrity that several existed, even after the travails of the Revolution and the Empire, and he would take them to visit the best and oldest one.

They passed through the city gate just after eight AM. Gazing out of the carriage window Tobias saw the countryside was peaceful enough. But the peace felt vaguely sinister, somehow. All around them lay fields un-tilled and overgrown, barns and sheds collapsing from neglect, and a prevailing sense of desolation. This was a country ravaged by decades of war – not directly, but by the steady sapping of all youth, all strength, all attention. Tobias had read that in many parts of France now the women of their age outnumbered the men eight to one – a rupture of social balance he could hardly comprehend. So many hundreds of thousands of young men had left this land, at the will of one man, never to return. And for what? he asked himself. So that finally, after twenty-five years and incalculable blood spilt, he and three other gentlemen could at last ride, curious, though this ruin, in search of even older and grander ruins.

"What sort of caged birds do you think we'll find in this French convent, hey?" Robert said, smacking his lips so loud it filled the whole carriage. They were a couple of hours into the journey and he'd finally roused himself from the snoring, twitching torpor of heretofore.

"Who knows?" said Hugh in his drawling way, "but I daresay we might expect one or two decent faces amongst them."

The truth was, all four of the party had read their share of sultry Gothic romances. Partly set in monasteries, convents, abbeys, and other Roman Catholic locales, the impression they gave of the Church was of secrets, rituals, superstition, and ominous cloistered dungeons where the fairest maidens might be locked away by cruel circumstance. Even Robert, who wasn't much for the printed word as a rule, had given a cursory glance through The Monk, Udolpho, and Otranto in search of the saucy bits.

To their excitement, then, it was not long before Leclerc gave word that they were nearing the convent he'd spoken of. Several hours north of Amiens and a few miles off the main road, it was a community of the ancient order of St. Clothilde, a Frankish princess noted for her piety and good works. The order was founded in the Tenth Century, but this convent dated from the Thirteenth, and boasted a fine Gothic church, cloister, and facilities for the sisters' daily life. Tobias had found the relevant entry in one of his guides and was now reading this information to the others as they trundled up the dirt road. Robert mumbled something to Hugh about Tobias having a singular ability to make anything dull.

When they reached the wizened masonry of the convent, all alighted and gratefully stretched their limbs. Dick and Leclerc led the way and inquired if the young "milords" might have a brief look inside the medieval church and cloister. An old nun at the door fetched the mother superior. This formidable woman arrived and, despite her stern demeanor, graciously invited them in to give them a tour.