TOULOUSE AND SOUTHWEST FRANCE

In planning our French Leave itinerary, we decided to drift south as the seasons changed, thinking to find more moderate temperatures in southern climes.  Good idea; it just didn’t pan out.  Nearly all of France was gripped by a cold spell in November, and southwest France was no exception.  But we found plenty of other reasons to enjoy our three-week visit to the region.

From the “cliffs, caves and castles” of Dordogne we drove south to TOULOUSE, France’s fourth largest city and the capital of the southwest.

In Toulouse, the Pont Neuf (new, that is, in 1632) spans the Garonne River.

We turned in our car and took a taxi to our rented apartment, which our driver found with some difficulty after inching down streets barely wide enough to accommodate her vehicle.

The rue Darquier, where we lived in Toulouse.

Toulouse is known as “La Ville Rose” (the red city) because many of the buildings – including the most notable ones – are constructed of red brick, a building material rarely seen in other parts of France.  Under certain light conditions, the city fairly glows with a rosy hue.

Toulouse's Hôtel de Ville (Town Hall).

The St.-Sernin Basilica, the world's largest Romanesque church.

A former private 17th century mansion, in Toulouse's characteristic "rose" hue.

Toulouse is a university city, so students abound.  Also, as the home of Airbus, it’s prominent in 21st century aviation.  However, like so many French cities, Toulouse has carefully preserved the charm of its centuries-old core, and looking out over the courtyard our apartment faced, one has only to squint to think you’re back in the 17th century.

Shops, markets and restaurants were within easy walking distance of our apartment, as were most of the museums and historical buildings we wanted to see.  We reverted to our Lyon practice of walking almost everywhere, resorting only occasionally to the métro (subway).  But unlike in summery Lyon, in autumnal Toulouse we pulled on coats, hats, scarves and gloves, and sometimes had to lower our heads to buck nippy winds.

After two weeks in Toulouse we became vagabonds again, but this time by train.  Wanting to see a bit more of the southwest, we rode the rails to PAU, just a short distance from the Pyrenees Mountains and France’s border with Spain, and then to CARCASSONNE to see its medieval walled city.

From the welter of things we saw and did as we explored southwest France, two themes emerged that are worth noting .  First, the southwest was a seedbed of religious dissent.  Second, we were struck by the number of old buildings that have been creatively “recycled” as cultural venues.

A HISTORY OF RELIGIOUS DISSENT

Over a number of centuries, a defining element in the history of southwest France was protest against the religious and political hegemony of the Roman Catholic Church.

The Cathars

The first major outbreak of religious dissent was the rise of the Cathars – also called Albigensians – in southern France (as well as in other parts of Europe) in the 12th century.   The Cathars’ religious beliefs (about which only fragmentary information remains) were denounced as heretical by Rome.  Equally dangerous, the Cathars’ simple, ascetic lifestyle was a rebuke to the wealth and pomp of official Christendom.

At first a succession of Popes tried to halt the spread of Catharism in the part of southern France known as Languedoc through preaching and diplomacy, but when those efforts were unsuccessful, Rome – with the acquiescence of French kings – recruited French noblemen from northern France to launch a series of violent crusades against the Cathars, with the promise of Languedoc fiefdoms as their reward.  Over the 13th century, crusades and inquisitions, which included some indiscriminate massacres of Cathars, largely wiped out the sect.

The conflict became a regional war as well as a religious one.  Southern nobles and landowners, who had coexisted peaceably with the Cathars, recognized the persecution by northern forces as a regional invasion and resisted.  Some Cathars took refuge in the fortress at Carcassonne, which was captured by the invaders after a siege in 1209; Cathars were put to the sword, and the non-Albigensian baron died in captivity.

The medieval walled city and fortress of Carcassonne.

A courtyard inside Carcassonne's walled city.

In ALBI, northeast of Toulouse, the enormous and lavishly decorated Sainte Cécile Cathedral was erected to herald the return of the region to Catholic control.  We visited Albi on a bus day-trip from Toulouse.

Sainte Cécile Cathedral, Albi.

The lavish portico on the austere Sainte Cécile Cathedral.

Saint Cécile Cathedral's ornately decorated interior.

Politically, the Albigensian crusades ended the independence of the Languedoc nobles and is regarded as a significant milestone in the centuries-long unification of France.

The Protestant Huguenots

Two centuries later, southwest France saw another surge of religious dissent, when it became the center of the Protestant Reformed Church of France, influenced by the writings of John Calvin in the 1530s; the adherents became known as Huguenots.  The 16th century was a period of religious warfare until King Henri IV – a former Protestant who converted to Catholicism upon ascending to the throne – ended the strife in 1598 with the Edict of Nantes, which guaranteed Protestants certain religious liberties.

In Pau we visited the Château de Pau, where Henri IV was born in 1553.  Though the future king never actually resided in the château, which was his maternal grandparents’ home, it has become a museum largely dedicated to his memory, with paintings or marble busts in nearly every room.  Henri IV was one of France’s most revered kings (“bon roi [good king] Henri”), owing to his ending the wars of religion (temporarily), his hearty bonhomie, and his populist connection with French common-folk (“père du peuple [father of the people]”).

The Château de Pau, birthplace of the future King Henri IV.

What is thought to be one of the best likenesses of Henri IV (1553-1610).

A whimsical depiction of the people's affection for "Good King Henri."

HISTORICAL NOTES:  Henri IV was fatally stabbed in his carriage in 1610 by François Ravaillac, a young Catholic zealot who assumed his deed would make him a heroic martyr; in fact, Catholics denounced the assassin and raised no protest against his interrogation under torture and swift execution.  Religious strife resumed during the 17th century, however, and in 1685 King Louis XIV revoked the Edict of Nantes with the Edict of Fountainebleau; French historians regard that as one of Louis XIV’s greatest mistakes, as it resulted in a “brain drain” flight of hundreds of thousands of French Protestants.

ARCHITECTURAL ‘RECYCLING’

Although this phenomenon is hardly unique to southwestern France, we were particularly struck by the number of wonderful old edifices that have been preserved not because of their own historical significance, but rather as superb museums and other cultural venues unconnected to the buildings’ original purposes.  The result can be a lovely juxtaposition of architecture and art that are mutually enhancing.  A few examples:

In Toulouse the Musée des Augustins, a medieval Augustinian convent, houses a marvelous collection of religious paintings, Romanesque sculpture, many pieces having been rescued from old churches that were demolished in the course of urban redevelopment, and other, nonreligious sculpture (we also attended an organ concert in the convent’s former chapel); the Hôtel d’Assézat, a private mansion built in 1555 by Nicholas Bachelier, a famous Renaissance architect, is now home to the Bemberg Foundation’s fine collection of 18th and 19th century paintings; and at the Musée Saint-Raymond, a classical 17th century mansion is filled with Roman antiquities discovered in archeological excavations in and around Toulouse.

Toulouse's Musée des Augustins, a former convent.

Staircase in the Musée des Augustins.

Musée des Augustins: Gargoyles from a demolished church.

Rare sculpture showing Virgin and Infant facing opposite directions (1450).

The Hôtel d'Assézat (1555), now houses a collection of modern-era paintings.

The Musée St-Raymond is a wonderful setting for Roman antiquities.

Musée St-Raymond: Bust from a Roman villa excavated near Toulouse.

Part of a mosaic floor from the Roman villa.

Similarly, in Albi, the birthplace of the 19th century painter Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, the largest collection of Toulouse-Lautrec’s paintings and lithograph posters resides in the Palais de la Berbie, built in 1265 as a residence for the city’s archbishops.

Albi's Toulouse-Lautrec museum is in a former bishop's palace.

In a delightful blog we’ve discovered, an American who lives in France listed things that the French “get” and things they “don’t get.”  Among the things the French “get,” she wrote, is historical preservation, and the ingenious and resourceful conversion of buildings in order to preserve the nation’s patrimoine (heritage) is further proof of that.

OTHER HIGHLIGHTS

Walking through Toulouse on November 11, we happened upon an Armistice Day ceremony commemorating the end of World War I in 1918; with military color-guards, a band, and the singing of the “Marseillaise,” the French national anthem, it was a moving event.

Armistice Day ceremony in Toulouse, November 11, 2013.

From Pau on a clear day, there’s a marvelous view of the snow-capped Pyrenees Mountains.  Unfortunately, the city was socked in during our two-day visit.  For a glorious few minutes, though, the clouds parted, and our hearts soared, as they always do at the sight of majestic peaks.

From cloudy Pau, a momentary glimpse of the Pyrenees Mountains.

Also in Pau, we had a delightful after-church lunch with Christian Science practitioner Marie Taillefer, all in French.

At a B&B breakfast in Carcassonne, we ate with the only other guests, a retired French couple, and again acquitted ourselves admirably (or so we thought, at least) in the native tongue.

Now it’s on to Provence, where we think it really will be warmer.

    

         

DORDOGNE: CLIFFS, CAVES AND CASTLES*

*In France, châteaux, but “castles” makes for better alliteration.

We happened on Dordogne almost by accident.  Neither of us was familiar with the region, and it didn’t figure at all in our planning for our French leave.  But a friend in Lyon raved about his family’s vacation in the area and urged us to pay it a visit.  We had a two-week hole in our itinerary, so we said, “Why not?”

Dordogne is part of the larger region called Périgord.  The area is in central France, due east of Bordeaux and just above the regions comprising France’s southwestern corner, Aquitaine and Midi-Pyrénées.  It takes its name from the Dordogne River, which, together with other rivers, including the Vézère and the Lot, has sculpted the terrain into a wonderland of forested hills and cliff-lined gorges.

The Lot River valley, Dordogne.

We rented a cottage at a gîte called La Ferme de la Tour (Tower Farm) near the hamlet of Sainte Nathalène.  (The tower referred to is that of a small, 17th-century château on neighboring property that serves as a landmark for finding the gîte.)  The three-unit facility is run by a British couple who moved to France with two young daughters 10 years ago to escape the rat race.  Our attractive stone cottage was simply but comfortably furnished, with an adequate kitchen where we prepared most of our meals.  From the cottage’s porch we had a nice view of Dordogne’s rolling hills, and we took several long walks through the surrounding farmland.

La Ferme de la Tour, our gîte near Ste. Nathalène.

Our cottage at La Ferme de la Tour.

The château tower ("tour") from which our gîte takes its name.

The view of the Dordogne countryside from our front deck.

Neighbors encountered on a walk through the rural countryside.

Unfortunately, for much of the fortnight the weather didn't match the beauty of the landscape.  We had many cloudy days and more than a little rain.  The weather didn't deter us from exploring the area, though, and with accurate forecasts and careful planning, we managed to coordinate our visits to the best sites with the nicest days.

CLIFFS          

A geologist could explain why Dordogne’s rivers have produced so many valleys with sheer cliffs, instead of more graduated embankments.  All we know is that vertical rock faces are found throughout the region, and that for centuries its inhabitants have imaginatively integrated the cliffs into their communities.

There is, for example, La Roque-Gageac, nestled at the base of a cliff on a narrow strip of the Dordogne’s right bank.  The town could only grow vertically, so its successive tiers, connected by steep stairways, climb the bluff.  (Sadly, the bluff that was intended to provide shelter also brought tragedy; in 1957 a large chunk of rock crashed onto the village, destroying houses and killing three residents.)

The cliffside village of La Roque-Gageac on the Dordogne River.

A "street scene" in La Roque-Gageac.

While La Roque-Gageac, Les Eyzies-de-Tayac, and other towns in Dordogne huddle at the base of cliffs, other communities perch atop the bluffs.  Among the cliff-top towns our little car wheezed up to were Domme and Saint-Cirq-Lapopie.

Saint-Cirq-Lapopie sits atop a cliff overlooking the Lot River.

The most spectacular and deservedly famous of the cliff-based towns in Dordogne is Rocamadour, on the bank of the Alzou River.  In the Middle Ages, Rocamadour became an important destination for religious pilgrims after miracles purportedly occurred at the tomb of an early Christian-era saint.  The flood of pilgrims resulted in the construction of a church and numerous chapels and shrines, which protrude from the cliff above the village, marvels of gravity-defying architecture and construction.  For good measure, a stately château crowns the top of the cliff.  We were pleased to have visited this remarkable site on a pretty November day among only a modest crowd of tourists, since during the summer thousands of visitors descend on the village every day.  (Unfortunately, our photos had to be taken straight into the sun or in shadows, with generally mediocre results.)

The medieval pilgrimage city of Rocamadour.

Rocamadour.

One of the chapels that cling to the cliff at Rocamadour.

CAVES

The geologic phenomena that created Dordogne’s cliffs probably also contributed to the numerous caves and grottos that honeycomb the region’s hills.  Some of these are renowned for natural features such as stalactites, but we were more interested in those having a connection to human history.  Two are noteworthy:

First, we visited an abandoned village called La Madeleine, on the Vézère River, where, for a number of centuries starting about 800 A.D., the residents lived in caves that they improved with wooden floors and partitions and furnished like other dwellings of the early Middle Ages.  Two archeologists happened on the forgotten and overgrown village in the 1860s, and their research and that of successors has recaptured many, though not all, elements of the village’s curious history.

The abandoned cave village of La Madeleine.

Another view of La Madeleine, showing part of a resident's home.

Second, we visited Lascaux II , a painstakingly accurate reproduction of the cave where, in 1940, four French schoolboys found hundreds of paintings on the walls and ceiling.  Scholars determined that the paintings, mainly of bulls, horses, and deer, were made about 17,000 years ago.  The painters would have had to stand on scaffolding to create the images.  The cave was open to visitors until 1962, when it was determined that pollution was causing the paintings to deteriorate.  The cave was closed to the public, but Lascaux II, though less extensive than the original, faithfully reproduces the two primary chambers where 90% of the paintings are located.  The paintings, and an awareness of what their production entailed, are, in their own way, as awe-inspiring as the great Gothic cathedrals. (Photos are prohibited in the cave; if you'd like to see some of the paintings, click on this site: Lascaux.  If the English version doesn't appear, click on the British flag at the bottom of the sidebar on the introductory page.)

NOTE: The geologic conditions in Dordogne facilitated the preservation of the remains of prehistoric people and animals, and of evidence of early habitations.  The region ranks among the best in the world for the study of prehistoric life.  The excellent Musée National de Préhistoire (National Museum of Prehistory) built into a cliff in Les Eyzies-de-Tayac is devoted to the subject.

Among the museum’s interesting exhibits are life-sized realizations of Neanderthal and Cro-Magnon men by Elisabeth Daynes, an award-winning French sculptor with a background in theater design.  Her remarkably lifelike reconstructions of early man and his predecessors, based on remains and scientific data, are displayed in museums throughout the world.  (Click here to see Elisabeth Daynes's website.)

Neanderthal man (E. Daynes).

Cro-Magnon man (E. Daynes).

CHÂTEAUX

Though great, turreted residences are found throughout rural France, Dordogne has more than its share.  Maybe many of the noblemen and rich landowners who build such homes couldn’t resist Dordogne’s scenic hill- and cliff-tops.  More important, though, Dordogne was the scene of much warfare during the Middle Ages – notably the Hundred Years War between France and England (1337-1453) – and many of the châteaux were also fortresses built on defensible sites.                   

Roadside arrows pointed to châteaux every few kilometers, it seemed, but we visited just two of the handful recommended in Fodor’s.  One of our favorite visits in the area was to the Château de Marqueyssac, high above the Dordogne River.  The château itself was undergoing repairs, but that was OK, because we’d actually gone to see its storied gardens and landscaping.  Adjacent to the building are several acres of boxwoods sculpted into intricate patterns (the twice-a-year pruning is all done by hand clippers, to avoid the damage that could be caused by electric shears).  From there several lovely paths stretch out along the bluff, ending at a “belvedere” nearly 400 feet above the river, from which we had a panoramic view of the valley and other cliff-top châteaux on the far bank, including the Château de Beynac, as well as of La Roque-Gageac and other riverside villages.

Sculpted boxwoods, Marqueyssac Gardens.

Clifftop pathway, Marqueyssac Gardens.

A "dry" (i.e., no mortar) shelter constructed of layered stones, Marqueyssac Gardens.

Château de Beynac viewed from across the Dordogne River.

Also visible from Marqueyssac was the Château de Castelnaud, whose origins date back to the early 13th-century.  A mammoth, thick-walled structure, it was always intended to be a fort, as its position above the Dordogne River has strategic importance.  Though it looks impregnable, Castelnaud changed hands seven times during the Hundred Years War.  Today it houses a Museum of War in the Middle Ages; if you’re into swords, staves, cross-bows and gigantic siege machines that could hurl boulders hundreds of meters, this is your place.

Château de Castelnaud.

Final Notes

Our gîte was about 10 miles from Sarlat-la-Canéda (usually referred to simply as Sarlat), considered the heart of Dordogne.  Though it features neither cliffs, caves nor castles, it’s within easy driving distance of all three, and it’s as charming a town as you’ll find in France.  A must-visit if you’re in the area (even on a cloudy day).

A restaurant on a square in Sarlat.

A unique feature of Dordogne, and one we found especially pleasing, is the yellow hue of the stone that is the most common building material in the region.  (What causes that tone?  Where’s a geologist when you need one?)  It’s a softer, warmer tone than the gray stone we’ve typically seen throughout France, and it provides a nice complement to the area’s natural beauty.

A typical yellow-hued home in Dordogne.

Finally, it should be mentioned that one of Dordogne’s regional culinary specialties is fois gras (goose or duck liver), which is featured in many restaurants and food shops.  We passed numerous large processing facilities throughout the area.

Dordogne foie gras "on the hoof'."

Now it’s au revoir to the Ferme de la Tour, and on to Toulouse and big-city life.