Narbonne is a provincial city in southwest France, right on the Mediterranean, and close to Spain. It was a big power center in the time of the Roman Empire, and a pretty big deal during the Middle Ages, but fell on hard times along with the rest of the Languedoc during the early modern period. Much of the region is still quite poor relative to the rest of France.
On the wall of the City Hall in the main square and elsewhere, there are these two plaques with the heading: 1907 – It’s our history. The pictures show some sort of an insurrection. The text tells about an intransigent mayor who refused to surrender to the police authorities, demonstrations and riots in his support, and Clemenceau’s decision to draft troops from other regions of France (as Deng did in China during the Tiananmen activities) to go and suppress the disturbances. Some shots were fired at crowds, some people died, order was restored.
I had to dig a bit to find out just what the ruckus was all about. It’s known as La Revolte de Vigne, the Revolt of the Vinyards, and it was triggered by a terrible slump in prices for wine, caused in part by overproduction, wine being, then and now, the economic engine of the region. The mayor was a socialist, and the protesters were calling for some sort of popular relief. Not too different from farmers in the Populist Movement of the USA. In Kansas, do they have placards about agricultural actions that say, “It’s Our History?” I wonder?
Across the square from the plaques is an excavation to the original Roman road, Via Domitia, that ran from Barcelona through Provence. For the Roman Empire, roads were as important as military posts for establishing and maintaining control. Major Roman roads continued to be used throughout the medieval period as trade routes, long after the Empire ceased to exist except as an idea that would not die.
As for the people, the female half of them has a special place in French culture – we all know that. Of course, I’m not talking about love, romance, and adultery: I’m talking about shopping. On the same town square, there is a 19th century building that used to be a large department store, emblazoned with the words, Aux dames de France (to the ladies of France) across its frieze. It’s not Paris, but it could have as easily said ‘Ladies Delight!‘ the title of Zola’s great novel about a large department store. Not too far away, Les halles, again, not the great Parisian market structure of Zola’s The Belly of Paris, but a wonderful place to fill one’s gut nonetheless, and right on Rue Emile Zola too!
I like Narbonne a lot: it’s not exciting, but it’s open, informal, and has that pleasing architectural jumble that was wiped out in Paris by the facelift it got from Napoleon III and Hausmann in the 1850s and ’60s. I also like indulging in cafe culture in the main square, something that just doesn’t exist at home. Old people, housewives, young people, professionals at work, all sorts, sitting in the square, reading, eating, or just chatting for as long as they like, even if they buy nothing more than a coffee or a single beer. And watching the people walking by or sharing their cafe space – the sunny weather makes it perfect!