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| Photo courtesy of W.Mobilo, Alamy |
I’m always pleased to finally reach December 1st as each year goes by. To me, it means Christmas, home, family, and, of course, it’s the Champagne time of year. For this, my last post about France for 2025, I’m here in Troyes.
With a population of 62,000 inhabitants, the city sits on the River Seine, about 140 km south-east of Paris, at the heart of the Champagne region of France. The city developed in the early Roman times and quickly became prosperous because of its location at a central hub for early transport and trade. Troyes' long and varied history can be witnessed in the architecture of the city, from the medieval timbered houses in the heart of the old town, to the Gothic Basilica of Saint Urbain, the C17th stained-glass windows of Saint Martine-ès-Vignes, to the modernity of the much later surrounding urban town of today. But, as interesting as all of that is, it’s not why I’m here today.
Back in 1910 and 1911, these medieval streets in the heart of Troyes and many other towns and cities across the Marne and Aube, and the Champagne region of France, as it was then defined, were running with champagne. Rivers of the sparkling wine were deliberately spilt onto the streets, vineyards ripped up, and cellars emptied of their casks in protest. Such destruction has echoes of the Luddites and might seem senseless to a 21st-century thinker. But a succession of bad harvests, a blight of phylloxera, and an apparent attempt by the large Champagne houses to squeeze out the many small growers was enough to set those vintners out onto the streets until they were heard. According to the local growers, the fundamental principles of centuries of French existence, liberté, égalité and fraternité had been replaced by tyrannie.
In the years leading up to the riots, a nasty little bug, phylloxera vastatrix, had been imported from America and was gradually creeping through the roots of vines across the country. All of this was happening at a time when Champagne was gradually being recognised as the go-to drink for any form of celebration. Add into the mix, the need to completely replace the root stock of infected French grapes in order to continue to produce wine, the irony that the new root stock had to come from the other side of the Atlantic at a cost and because it was bug resistant, and you have a powder keg about to explode – or is that a very large champagne cork about to be popped!!!
Whatever the case, eastern France was in revolt. In the midst of all this, the harvests of 1909 and 1910 were afflicted by mould and mildew, then by hailstones and flooding, and the Champagne areas were re-designated, thereby completely cutting out many of the small growers who wanted to take advantage of the steadily growing interest in their sparkling wine. It was no wonder the usually quiet and studious tenders of vines took to the streets so violently. According to newspapers at the time, millions of bottles of champagne were emptied into the river or the streets.
Today, as I stroll through these streets, there’s no hint of the unrest. The shops specialising in wine are trading happily alongside each other. The cafes are full of locals and tourists taking in the view of the historic centre, and life moves at the relentless pace of the clock. But as I look at the pavement below my feet, I can’t help but imagine the river of champagne that once traversed its surface…
If you enjoyed this post, you might also like to read about my travels through Meyrueis
or the city of Vernon
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