East of Paris: Sketches in the Gâtinais, Bourbonnais, and Champagne

In Short

This travelogue is an intimate, observational survey of the Gâtinais, Bourbonnais, and Champagne regions, written by a seasoned British visitor. Moving through picturesque river valleys, ruined abbeys, and forest-bound villages, the author documents the lived reality of French provincial life at the turn of the 20th century. By interweaving architectural appreciation with encounters with locals—from peasant proprietors to displaced families in annexed Alsace—the book serves as a poignant, affectionate portrait of a nation’s soul, preserving the character of places that are as historically rich as they are geographically understated.

The Story

The narrative begins with a deliberate choice to step away from the grand, bustling landmarks of France to explore the "homely graces" and "quiet beauties" of the country’s eastern territories. The author acts as a guide to a series of specific, often overlooked locations, such as the river-town of Moret, the forest-fringed village of Bourron, and the historic sites of La Charité and Arcis-sur-Aube. Each stop provides a springboard for reflection on the layers of French history, moving from the medieval era and the revolutionary fervor associated with figures like Danton, to the more recent, painful aftermath of the Franco-Prussian War.

As the journey progresses, the landscape shifts from the fertile, prosperous valley of the Loing to the more austere plains of the interior. The author is not merely a sightseer but an investigator of character. In the village of Bourron, she meets a "rentière" who defies stereotypes by maintaining a love for literature, even while living in a region where the peasantry is often depicted as avaricious and insular. The narrative frequently balances these private, human vignettes with broader historical analyses. For instance, a visit to the sumptuous tomb of the last Montmorency at Moulins leads to a meditation on the cruelty of the ancien régime and the inevitable, destructive cycles of revolution that left so many of France’s monuments in ruins.

The journey eventually moves toward the eastern frontier, where the tone shifts from reflective to somber. Here, the author explores the "sad yearning France" of Alsace and Lorraine, territory annexed by Germany. This section of the book is arguably the most emotionally charged, as the author visits French families living under German rule. She observes the small, defiant ways they maintain their identity—through language, the display of national colors, and the rigorous preservation of French social customs—despite the pressures of occupation. The author documents the "fathomless gulf" between the conquerors and the conquered, noting that even years after the annexation, the people remain culturally tethered to France.

The book concludes not with a finality of closure, but with an affirmation of the endurance of the French spirit. By the time the author returns to Paris after witnessing the organizing prowess of the Republic during a great military review, the reader has been led through a tapestry of regional life. From the quiet, flower-carpeted pastures of Pougues to the tense, divided reality of the German border, the narrative reinforces the idea that the heart of France is not found in its grand capitals, but in the persistent, evolving traditions of its provincial people.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The author sets the stage by rejecting the "wonder-horns" of mainstream travel, choosing instead to explore the domestic, quiet corners of Eastern France. She establishes a methodology of slow, attentive observation, favoring the "sweet little valley" over the "thundering" tourist attractions.

Through the river valleys The focus shifts to the scenic and historic towns along the Loing and the Loire, where medieval ruins meet the natural beauty of the water-ways. These chapters detail the architectural remnants of English-French conflict and the simple, daily rhythms of the riverside inhabitants.

Into the forest and the fields The journey moves into the depths of the Fontainebleau forest and the surrounding villages. Here, the author examines the stark differences between the prosperous bourgeoisie and the hard-working, sometimes "sordid" peasant class, noting their varying degrees of thrift and education.

Reflections on the fallen The narrative turns to historical study, analyzing the sites of revolutionary history and royal tombs. The author debates the merits of restoration versus preservation, lamenting the "hideously hacked" state of statues while acknowledging the historical retribution that allowed such destruction.

The frontier of memory The final movement centers on the annexed regions of Alsace and Lorraine. The author explores the reality of life under German administration, focusing on the cultural resistance of the local families and the enduring, quiet loyalty to the French Republic.

The People

The book is populated by a variety of figures who represent the complexity of French life. The "rentière" of Bourron stands out for her intellectual curiosity, proving that even among the rural poor, there exists a refined, literate spirit that contradicts the harsh depictions of authors like Zola. The "hale old body of seventy-seven," a market gardener, serves as a testament to the stoic, physical labor that defines the agrarian landscape.

The author also introduces friends and hosts throughout the journey, such as the juge de paix of Arcis-sur-Aube and the retired confectioner who, despite his years in England, has lost his grip on the language. These individuals provide a sense of place and hospitality. Most significantly, the families in annexed Alsace and Lorraine emerge as the emotional core of the text. They are resilient, maintaining their French identity through music, language, and social rituals. Their quiet defiance highlights the author’s argument that borders on a map cannot erase the deep-seated cultural allegiances of a people who remain "French at heart."

In Its Own Voice

"Short of saluting the tricolour on Mont Blanc, or of echoing the Marseillaise four hundred and odd feet underground in the cave of Padirac, I think I may fairly say that I have exhausted France as a wonder-horn."

The author explains her decision to move past the famous sites of France to explore the quieter, more intimate regions of the east.

"A wanderer in France should never be without his Arthur Young."

The author acknowledges the debt she owes to the famous 18th-century agricultural traveler as she compares her own observations of the countryside to his historical records.

"And only last year dining with my hosts of Germanised Lorraine in Paris, I asked them if in this respect matters had changed for the better. The answer I received was categoric—'Nothing is changed since your visit to us.'"

The author concludes her observations on the annexed territories by emphasizing the permanence of the divide between the occupied populations and their German rulers.

What It's Really About

The central theme of the work is the distinction between national grandeur and provincial truth. The author argues that true knowledge of a country comes from lingering in its "nooks and corners" rather than rushing between monuments. Beneath this lies an argument about the nature of historical memory: France is a country that has been repeatedly broken by revolution and war, yet the author finds that its character is resilient, built on the persistence of local customs and the strength of the land. She questions whether historical sites should be restored or left to decay, ultimately suggesting that the value of these places lies in their ability to bridge the gap between past and present.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate slow, observational travel writing in the vein of classic English essayists will find this volume deeply rewarding. The author’s voice is consistently warm and intelligent, and she excels at painting the sensory details of a scene—the smell of the forest, the colors of the autumn crocus, and the clatter of a rustic dinner table.

However, modern readers should be prepared for the book’s specific period perspective. The author writes from a late-Victorian, early-Edwardian viewpoint, characterized by a deep-seated belief in the superiority of sociability and a frank, sometimes blunt, class-consciousness. Her descriptions of French peasants can be stark, and her views on "annexed" populations are colored by the intense geopolitical tensions of her time. The book does not seek to be a comprehensive history; it is a personal, impressionistic record. If you are looking for a guide to logistics, you will find it dated, but if you are looking to understand how a keen, thoughtful observer navigated the quiet, complex landscapes of a France that has long since shifted into the past, this book offers a unique and enduring perspective. It is a work of quiet persistence, perfect for those who enjoy the "music of the forest" and the slow, rhythmic pace of a bygone era of travel.