A Huguenot hotbed in the early seventeenth century, the city of Montauban in southwest France became the headquarters for the Protestant rebels in 1621. Legend has it that in order to end a lengthy siege, Catholic King Louis XIII’s army pummeled the town with 400 cannonballs. The townsfolk held and so did the phrase, faire les quatre cents coups, “to make 400 blows,” which morphed into an idiom meaning to raise hell or to live a wild life.
For the record, there may not have been anywhere near 400 “blows”on Montauban–though it might have felt like it–one of them left a canon-sized hole in the “L’Église Saint-Jacques. And regardless of the actual number of cannonball hits Montauban weathered, French film director Francois Truffaut set the 400-number in cinematic stone when he titled his acclaimed New Wave film about a rebellious youngster Les Quatre Cents Coups (1959).
Though I may harbor some rebel remnants, perhaps due to my Huguenot heritage—my grandmother on my dad’s side was a Michaux—on our four-day foray to Montauban, peace and harmony ruled. Our trip was all about meeting up with lovely friends, enjoying fine cuisine, and quietly following our noses—without a warring faction in sight.
Like its neighbor Toulouse, this town of 60 thousand residents on the River Tarn is constructed mainly of reddish-pink clay bricks. Just take a gander at the main square, Place Nationale, and you’ll get the pretty picture. Also, Montauban has a charming pedestrian old town filled with loads of spiffy boutiques, gorgeous green spaces, a terrific Musée Ingres Bourdelle, an extensive outdoor Saturday market and some upscale restaurants and a terrific museum, La Musée Ingres Bourdelle. (Surprising fact: During World War II, DaVinci’s Mona Lisa was spirited away to Montauban for safe keeping.)
In addition, it’s just an hour from the postcard pretty artisan enclave of Cordes sur Ciel.
Mais oui, Montauban is worth a detour!
All the best for a lovely rest-of-spring.
Bises, Gayle
PS
Pleasures of Provence is taking shape–much like a hummingbird builds its nest–the Rome Way, not in a day. Truth be told, experiencing these tempting Provencal pleasures cuts in to typing time. But so be it–balance is key, n’est ce pas?
PPS
Though we hoped for a black woodpecker in the countryside outside Cordes-sur-Ciel, the noisy operator opted for seclusion. But on a follow-up trip to Saintes-Maries-de-Mer in the Camargue, this handsome grey heron struck a dignified pose.
Gayle Smith Padgett 