The Discovery of France:

A Historical Geography from the Revolution to the First World War

by Graham Robb
352 pp. Norton, 2007 $27.95

Reviewed by Jeremy Ohmes

Remember those xenophobic days when Freedom fries and Freedom toast were being served in Congressional cafeterias and at small-town diners across America? In that jingoistic, pre-Iraq War, “you’re either with us, or against us” atmosphere, France, who obviously wasn’t with us, had to be taught a lesson, so we chucked the name of some of the country’s most notable non-contributions (French fries and French toast aren’t actually from France). Take that, freedom-haters. It’s doubtful that this small-minded movement had too many French citizens crying over their croissants. And if this scenario happened a hundred years ago, they would have been even more indifferent, not because of the nearsightedness of the matter — because most people in France weren’t French.

Just over a hundred years ago, France outside of Paris was an unexplored territory. French was a foreign language to most of the population and huge sections of the countryside were uncivilized, inhabited by ancient, illiterate tribes who spoke regional dialects, practiced arcane customs, and possessed heterodox beliefs. In his book, The Discovery of France, acclaimed biographer Graham Robb journeyed 14,000 miles by bicycle to get the lay of this primitive, isolated land, and he describes an uncharted geography that’s foreign to even its locals. Following in the footsteps of mapmakers, surveyors, soldiers, herdsmen, writers, and wandering tourists, Robb uses a captivating mix of historical narrative, personal observation, and academic reporting to unravel a curious and precarious country.

Among the litany of characters Robb discusses were the eighteenth-century cartographers of the Cassini dynasty, who risked being slaughtered at the hands of suspicious locals, in order to make the first complete map of France. During the expedition, one young geometer was hacked to death by the natives of a remote hamlet. He also details a nineteenth-century “cursed race” known as the Cagot, who were persecuted all over southwestern France because they were thought to be the descendents of medieval lepers.

The book is flush with oddities, including tourist phrasebooks that included lines like, “The wheels are on fire” and “I am suffering greatly. I am going to vomit. Give me the vase.” He even describes postmen in the Landes who, until the 1930s, delivered letters on stilts to give them greater speed.    

Robb debunks many of the myths about France, too. Beyond French fries and French toast, most of France’s traditional food was an invention for tourists. He says, “The true taste of France was stale bread.” Details like these make The Discovery of France both a fascinating look at an undiscovered country, and an elegy to a motley world lost to modernism and Parisian influence.