Itinerary of Provence and the Rhone: Made During the Year 1819

In Short

This volume serves as a practical, eloquent guide to the Rhône valley and Provence, written by an educated traveler for his contemporaries. It documents a journey from Paris south to the Mediterranean, meticulously cataloging historical sites, architectural landmarks, and the social atmosphere of a nation still processing the aftershocks of revolution. By focusing on both the aesthetic beauty of the region and the realities of travel—from the quality of local inns to the reliability of bridges—the work endures as a sophisticated, grounded snapshot of French life during the early 19th century.

The Story

The narrative follows the author on a southward trajectory, moving away from the familiar comforts of the north into the distinctive, sun-drenched regions of Provence and the Rhône. The journey begins with the practicalities of the road: identifying the best hotels, navigating the "dreary" intervals between major cities, and engaging with the locals. As the author moves through towns like Auxerre and Lyons, he balances high-minded classical reflections with the immediate, often amusing, realities of 19th-century transit. He describes the landscape with a painter’s eye, noting the "fine masses of conventual and other old buildings" and comparing the winding Saône to the rivers of classical poetry.

The arc of the travelogue deepens as the author reaches the heart of Provence. He explores the ruins of the Château de Grignan, a site of literary pilgrimage due to its association with Madame de Sévigné, and offers a poignant account of how revolutionary violence erased the elegance of the past. This historical melancholy is juxtaposed with the vibrant, sometimes overwhelming, activity of the present. He attends religious missions in Avignon, where he witnesses the reconciliation of former enemies and the fervent devotion of a populace still marked by the "revolutionary horrors" that once tore their society apart.

As the journey nears its conclusion, the scenery shifts from the cultivated plains to the dramatic, rugged terrain of the Maritime Alps. The author’s voice remains consistently inquisitive; he is as interested in the "clatter" of a provincial scolding match in Languedoc as he is in the classical elegance of the Maison Carrée in Nîmes. The final stages of the route, through the forests near Fréjus and the mountain passes leading toward Nice, emphasize the sheer scale and wildness of the landscape, which he compares to the dark, evocative paintings of Salvator Rosa. By the time he reaches the Mediterranean coast, the reader has been guided through a comprehensive, layered portrait of a region defined by its history, its architecture, and its irrepressible, sometimes discordant, human energy. The narrative concludes with the sense of a grand, exhaustive tour, leaving the reader with a sense of both the beauty of the French South and the inherent exhaustion of the dedicated traveler.

How It Unfolds

The voyage begins The author sets out from Paris, moving toward Auxerre and Lyons while establishing the tone of an observant, slightly skeptical guide. He differentiates himself from the typical, complaining tourist by seeking out "palm-islands" of comfort in a "desert of dirty pothouses."

The Rhône transit The narrative follows the river southward, with the author documenting the changing geography and the appearance of the distant Alps. He provides advice on where to dine and where to linger, emphasizing the importance of forming one’s own impressions rather than relying on "ready-made ecstasies."

The historical heart The journey centers on significant cultural sites like the Château de Grignan and the monuments of Nîmes. He captures the tension between the enduring beauty of Roman antiquity and the physical decay left behind by the recent revolutionary period.

The social observation The author encounters the religious and social life of the region, including the aftermath of a local Mission in Avignon. He highlights the surprising reconciliations between former enemies, grounding these abstract events in specific, human interactions.

The final ascent The route concludes by navigating the mountain passes and forests near the Mediterranean coast. He contrasts the "Italian character" of the landscape with the savage, "toppling" rocks of the Alpine routes, ending the tour with a survey of the rugged, beautiful terrain.

The People

The author, an Oxonian scholar, acts as our steady, reliable anchor. He is a man of intellectual curiosity who values original observation over the prescriptive advice of other guidebooks. He is accompanied by a shifting cast of travelers, including a "shrewd" Provencal merchant who provides local context, and a "French Falstaff" whose lively presence offers a comic counterpoint to the more somber historical reflections. He also encounters a range of locals, from a knowledgeable "sub-matron" in Auxerre who offers a cynical view of military influence on the population, to the "civil" innkeepers who represent the standard by which he judges the quality of his journey. These individuals are not characters in a plot but rather lenses through which the author interprets the culture of 1819; they allow him to move beyond the stone and mortar of the region into the living, breathing reality of its people.

In Its Own Voice

"The most fastidious, however, of this class of smelfungi, would find but little to carp at under the roof the civil Mr. Boillet; and would do well to lay in a stock of comfortable recollections in this place, on which to feast as far as Chalons."

The author advises fastidious travelers to appreciate the rare, high-quality hospitality found in Auxerre before entering the "dreary" regions ahead.

"The effect of what is really most admirable in nature and art is weakened by the impertinent obtrusion of ready-made ecstasies."

He critiques the trend of relying on pre-written guidebooks that dictate how and where a traveler should feel moved.

What It's Really About

The book explores the tension between romantic idealism and the gritty, unvarnished reality of travel. It acts as an argument for authentic, self-directed experience; the author consistently warns against the "ready-made ecstasies" that rob a traveler of their own capacity for wonder. Underlying this are deeper questions about the permanence of history: how a landscape survives the trauma of revolution, how ancient monuments are repurposed by modern inhabitants, and whether the "fine" architecture of the past can ever truly reconcile with the chaotic, noisy, and often decaying reality of the present. It is a meditation on the act of looking, questioning what remains when the "mist of years" clears from a place of power.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the slow, deliberate pace of 19th-century travel writing will find this book a rewarding companion. It is not a polished, modern brochure, but a deeply personal, occasionally sharp-witted account of a world that is both familiar and profoundly foreign. You will appreciate the author's dry humor—especially regarding the "gastronomic school" of travelers—and his refusal to romanticize the difficult or "dirty" aspects of the road.

Be prepared for the occasional dense passage on architecture and the period-specific references that assume a classical education. The author’s attitudes reflect the perspectives of a British gentleman of 1819, occasionally casting a critical eye on French customs or the "discordant" nature of local dialects. However, these very limitations make the text authentic; they provide a genuine glimpse into the mindset of a traveler navigating a post-Napoleonic France. It is a book for those who like their history with a bit of dirt on the road, their beauty tempered by ruins, and their travel accounts to be as much about the observer as the place observed. It stays with you because it captures a fleeting moment of peace in a region that had only just emerged from a violent, turbulent century.