Urban Exploration - The Flag Mansion
We received photos from a traveler and compiled them into a historical summary.
This is a brief visit to an urbex location known as the Manoir aux Drapeaux (The Manor of the Flags). It is a complicated visit because the neighbors and the owner are utterly exhausted by people trespassing there. It has now turned into a situation of intensive surveillance and a "Go to Jail" card on the Monopoly board. To be honest, it is entirely understandable. The manor has been completely ransacked and looted by thieves. How can one be surprised after that? Once again, we see such a beautiful place being massacred.
A truth that people won’t like: the flags are stupid setups made by urbexers. Looking closely, the manor as a whole is very well-kept; every small element is in its proper place. And yet, a flag is hung in front of a painting. The area beneath the painting is bleached, but the wide pole of the flag, placed against the wall, has left no mark—a question of light impact on the wallpaper over long periods. Why would such meticulous people have placed these absurd things in front of a painting? It is nonsensical and totally inconsistent. It’s a shame, but in reality, it isn't even surprising anymore. Everyone complains about urbex setups, yet they are everywhere. It should be renamed, if it’s truly useful to do so, the Manor of Rosine and Jean.
The history of this place is quite well-identified, largely because administrative documents—including old passports and letters dated from the Second World War—were present. I have summarized the details below, though I have removed the family names to avoid revealing the address; for pity's sake, let’s not expose it further to vandalism. I have drawn up a family tree based on the terms used in the letters—"dear sister," "dear brother-in-law"—a record I cannot publish since the surnames would provide the keys to the front door. I will only share extracts.
The family roots lie in the Paris region. Germaine, whom we will categorize as the great-grandmother, is recorded in Longpont-sur-Orge, south of Paris. This information is mostly irrelevant except for the fact that she is likely the woman with the hyper-stern face in the oval photo in the pink bedroom. She dominates the room, which gives a sense of a nuclear family dynamic—an atmosphere that clearly permeates the manor. It is a place that feels far from anonymous.
Our historical occupants are Jean M., the grandfather, and Rosine A., the grandmother. Jean was a schoolteacher. A great humanist, he clearly welcomed people in exodus during the Second World War on multiple occasions. She was very attentive to her family, constantly caring for her loved ones, as evidenced by countless letters. They are the historical owners of the manor. Their behavior might not be called "heroic" in the traditional sense, but it was profoundly humanistic. Numerous thank-you letters suggest—without much doubt—that they hosted families during the 1943 exodus to protect them. Rosine contributed greatly to the cooking and the preparation of care packages. The letters constantly mention the large table, the uncompromising welcome, and the kindness.
Regarding the other participants—numerous brothers and sisters—it requires deep sorting because it leads to a dense and radically confusing family history. To say one could write a book about it is an exaggeration, but more importantly, it takes us away from the manor itself. Locations mentioned include Guéret, Draguignan, Mâcon, Brioude, and Saint-Étienne. Jean’s siblings included Thérèse and Louis (whose son was Lucien), and possibly Jacqueline, though the archives are unclear. I have no idea of the birth order; I only have "dear brother" and "dear sister."
Rosine’s siblings included Barthélémy (father of Jules and Rosa), Cyprien (father of Juliette and Emma), and Augustin. The latter was a stationmaster in Les Arcs near Draguignan, and his daughter was Lucienne. Notably, Jules was a prisoner of war in Germany in 1941, and the family tirelessly supported him with packages and letters. Jean’s side of the family struggled with a difficult inheritance, which explains the endless piles of cadastral and notary documents. While there was no conflict, it was an exhausting puzzle for them in 1943; notaries could not travel, and heirs were forbidden from moving by the German occupiers. I must thank "B." for taking photos of the old snapshots because when I passed through a few weeks later, they were gone.
Jean and Rosine had two children: Clarisse M. and Henri M. Clarisse, referred to as "the mother," was born a M. and married Henri G. She was born in August 1909 and died in July 1985. She wrote a massive amount of correspondence in a fine, difficult-to-read hand. She was a high-level schoolteacher, having attended the École Normale Supérieure in the Literature section. Note that there is both a son, Henri M., and a husband, Henri G. The husband, Henri G., referred to as "the father," was born in July 1910 and died in July 1974. He lived in Mâcon and was also a schoolteacher. His full name was Pierre Henri G., and while his death certificate says Pierre, he was called by his middle name. Henri M.’s correspondence, though voluminous, provides little information.
Clarisse taught mainly in the Guéret area of the Creuse. After long months of waiting for the right opportunity, we were able to visit the grave of Jean and Rosine. They are buried with their daughter Clarisse and her husband Henri. We thought they would be in Guéret, but no—they returned to the place of their childhood. The grave was decorated with flowers for All Saints' Day, proving that this research leads to a family that is still present and loving. The estate is not vacant. I would have liked to leave flowers, but there were none available this season. We sent a strong thought to this family.
