In the Heart of the Vosges and Other Sketches by a "Devious Traveller"

In Short

This collection of sketches serves as a vibrant, kaleidoscopic travelogue through the provinces of France, from the misty heights of the Vosges Mountains to the sun-drenched olive groves of the Var. Combining personal anecdotes with historical context, the author navigates the tension between traditional French life and the encroaching forces of modernization and political border-shifts. It remains a valuable record for its precise, observant prose, capturing the spirit of an "unfrequented" France that has largely vanished, preserved here through the lens of a traveler deeply attuned to both natural beauty and human character.

The Story

The narrative arc follows no singular linear plot but instead mirrors the deliberate, meandering pace of an inquisitive traveler’s journey across decades. The exploration opens in the Vosges, where the author contends with the unpredictable weather of the Lake district—a landscape of violet hills and sudden, violent storms that contrast sharply with the quiet industry of the mill-wheels on the river Vologne. From this rugged beginning, the focus shifts to the complex cultural identity of Alsace, a region caught in the political vice of German annexation. The author observes the persistent, often humorous, French patriotism of the locals, who guard their heritage against the "false note" of modern German aesthetic influence and the omnipresent, wearying military parades.

The journey continues southward, tracing the steps of earlier observers like Arthur Young while forging a path through the distinct regional identities of the Cévennes and the Pyrenees. In the town of Sauve and the mountain valleys near the Spanish frontier, the author finds a hospitable, agrarian world where the rhythm of life is dictated by the seasons and the ancestral Protestant traditions of the inhabitants. These sketches are punctuated by deeper dives into the lives of cultural icons, such as the prodigious artist Gustave Doré and the popular songwriter Gustave Nadaud, whose careers provide a microcosm of the transition from provincial roots to the frenetic, success-driven atmosphere of Parisian social life.

As the traveler moves toward the Mediterranean coast and the industrial north, the tone shifts from the idyllic to the analytical. In the Var, the author examines the scientific rigor of modern farming and the struggle against the harsh realities of climate and mosquitoes. Later, the narrative reaches the manufacturing hubs of Lille and the "amphibious" marshlands near St. Omer. Here, the author encounters a different kind of resistance: the insular, jealous secrecy of factory owners who guard their trade methods as fiercely as the villagers guard their patois. The book concludes with a reflection on these disparate regions—the agricultural efficiency of Picardy, the religious history of Douai, and the fading remnants of English influence—ultimately painting a portrait of a nation that is constantly negotiating its past against the relentless, hard prose of modern industrial progress.

How It Unfolds

The Vosges wilderness The traveler begins by navigating the atmospheric, storm-swept heights of the Vosges, where nature’s volatility demands sturdy gear and a respectful eye for the sudden transitions between violet mists and golden sun. This rugged terrain sets a tone of direct engagement with the physical landscape.

The Alsatian struggle Transitioning to the borderlands, the author documents the quiet, stubborn resistance of the Alsatian people to forced Germanization. Observations of local shop signs, peasant dialects, and the persistent presence of French national pride highlight the cultural friction of the era.

The artistic detour The narrative pauses to examine the lives of figures like Gustave Doré and Gustave Nadaud, tracing their path from precocious provincial beginnings to the intense demands of the Parisian stage. These portraits provide a necessary human dimension to the broader regional survey.

The agricultural south The journey moves to the olive-growing regions and the Pyrenean valleys, where the author engages with the daily life of farmers and mountain dwellers. Conversations with Protestant elders and observations on the science of cultivation reveal the enduring, quiet stability of rural France.

The industrial north The final movement enters the secretive world of manufacturing in Lille and the market gardens of the north. The author grapples with the relative inaccessibility of these industrial centers, reflecting on the shift from pastoral traditions to modern economic utility.

The People

The author, a "devious traveler," acts as the steadying presence—an analytical yet appreciative outsider who seeks to understand the "oppositeness" of a culture that is not her own. She is the bridge between the reader and the subjects, possessing a sharp eye for the absurd and the profound alike.

Gustave Doré appears as a figure of "superabundant" talent, whose childhood is effectively erased by the demands of a precocious career. He represents the restless energy of the artist who must navigate the transition from a provincial boy to a Parisian icon. Gustave Nadaud serves as a parallel figure, a "French Tom Moore" who balances a Bohemian spirit with the pragmatic need to survive in the high-cost, high-stakes environment of the capital. Both men embody the tension between native genius and the crushing expectations of public success.

The unnamed peasants, millers, and factory owners—such as the formidable Madame C. in the north—provide the bedrock of the narrative. These figures are defined by their tenacity. Whether they are protecting trade secrets in a factory or maintaining a Huguenot household in the Pyrenees, they stand as guardians of their respective identities against the encroaching tide of modernization. They are not merely background characters but the essential architects of the regional textures the author documents.

In Its Own Voice

"At one moment the whole vast scene was blurred and blotted with chill winter mist; soon a break was visible, and far away we gazed on a span of serene amethystine sky, barred with lines of bright gold."

The author describes the mercurial, shifting weather patterns over the mountains of the Vosges.

"A rough peasant girl, employed as chambermaid in the hotel at which we stayed, amused me not a little by her tirades against the Prussians, spoken in a language that was neither German nor French, but a mixture of both--the delectable tongue of Alsace!"

This observation highlights the linguistic and political tension inherent in the border regions during the era of annexation.

"The tourist brings evil as well as good in his track, and the tax upon glorious scenery here is not the globe-trotter but the mendicant."

The author offers a candid reflection on the inevitable complications that arise when remote, beautiful landscapes become destinations for travelers.

What It's Really About

The central theme is the preservation of cultural and regional identity in the face of inevitable change. The author is preoccupied with how geography, language, and tradition survive the "hard prose" of modernization. The book asks whether it is possible to maintain a distinct way of life—be it in a secluded Pyrenean valley or a bustling factory town—when political borders shift and industrial appetites grow. There is also a recurring argument about the value of the "unfrequented," suggesting that the true nature of a country is found not in its famous hubs, but in the quiet, often overlooked corners where the hum of machinery and the songs of the past coexist.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate the patient, observant style of 19th-century travel writing will find this volume deeply rewarding. It is a book for those who prefer to linger on the details of a landscape or the nuances of a local character rather than race through a plot. The experience of reading it feels like sitting in a train carriage, watching the varied topography of France unfold with the commentary of a well-read, slightly opinionated companion.

Potential readers should be prepared for the author’s period attitudes, particularly her frank assessments of the "Jewish element" in Alsace and the occasional biases regarding national character that were common among British travel writers of her time. Furthermore, the inclusion of untranslated patois and references to long-forgotten contemporary figures requires some patience. However, those who look past these temporal barriers will find a treasure trove of historical insight. It is an essential read for anyone interested in the social geography of pre-war France, offering a poignant look at a world that was already beginning to vanish as the author jotted down her notes. The lasting power of the book lies in its insistence that even in a world obsessed with efficiency and progress, there is still immense value in seeking out the "oppositeness" of another place.