Tuscany? No, the Tarn. Milhars to be precise, a village just over the border from our own département. Much of Milhars stretches out along a busy road, which means we have rarely stopped there. But there’s a hidden part of it perched on the hill, and that was a revelation last Sunday.

A number of areas in France claim the title of the Tuscany of France, including the Gers, the Lomagne and the Quercy Blanc in Tarn-et-Garonne and the Tarn itself. The rolling countryside, with its cypresses and parasol pines and its perched medieval villages, is considered to resemble Tuscany. It’s mainly a construct to attract tourists, but it’s not completely fanciful.

Baskets everywhere

In fact, I didn’t intend to see the old part of Milhars. As often occurs, it happened by accident. I had seen flyers advertising the annual Fête de l’Osier (wicker), so I thought it might be fun to go along and find out what this involved.

On a weekend in February, there wouldn’t be that many people, would there? I was wrong. It was heaving. The springlike sunshine and temperatures had brought people out after lunch, eager to shake off a gloomy January and glad of an outing after the post-Christmas dearth of entertainment.

Cars were parked along the verges on both sides. To find a space I had to drive to the end of the village and walk back to the salle des fêtes.

A long, open-sided marquee sheltered stalls displaying basketwork of all kinds: bread baskets, shopping baskets, log baskets, even sculptures made of wicker. Yet more stalls crowded the salle des fêtes.

Some of the stallholders held demonstrations of basket weaving. I declined to take part, having all the manual dexterity of an amoeba. It was interesting to watch, though. Some of the work on sale was quite expensive, but I can understand why, given the skill and effort involved.

Basket weaving, or vannerie in French, is an ancient industry. There’s evidence that it already took place around 10,000 years ago. Egyptian murals show wicker furniture in use 5,000 years ago.

The raw materials haven’t changed: plant materials such as willow, young chestnut twigs, reed and bamboo. Willows grow in abundance along the little River Cérou that bisects Milhars, hence, I imagine, the origin of the fête. Their slender, strap-like branches are tough but pliable.

The old village

Interesting as it was, there wasn’t a lot to detain me after a while, so I picked up a leaflet about Milhars from the tourist office stall. The brief description intrigued me, so I walked uphill to the old village, grouped in a snail-like spiral around its château. There, I found a fascinating warren of ruelles and tiny squares interspersed with gardens within the ramparts.

Three of the old fortified gates still exist.

Milhars (pronounced Milliarss, which was news to me) started life as Miliacum. In Gallo-Roman times, it was a place where a milestone was erected, then it became a stronghold that controlled the route between the Albigeois and the Quercy-Rouergue as well as the crossings over the Cérou and the Aveyron. So it held a very important strategic position. As you can see from this photo, there’s a good view for miles around.

As in many such villages, rural depopulation has been marked, especially in the late 19th century. In 1821, Milhars boasted 837 inhabitants. A century later, this had dropped to 369. In 2020, there were 242 people, less than a third of the peak.

The château

The present château, which is privately owned, dates from the 17^th century. It was built on top of the remnants of a much earlier, probably 13^th-century fortress. Apparently, a square tower remained, but it partially collapsed in the late 19^th century and was then demolished. The early village was built close to the old château, but as the population developed, it spread out beyond the ramparts and at the bottom of the hill.

Driving through the village, I have often wondered what the arches below were in the wall below the château. The leaflet about Milhars describes them as arcs de décharge. None the wiser, I had to look this up. Apparently, they are relieving arches, which “act as a bridge absorbing/dissipating most if not all of the pressure from the downward force of the wall/load above.” In other words, a way of preventing the whole lot from collapsing under the weight.

I was hoping for a more romantic description of these mysterious arches than this mundane architectural term. Reassuring, though, if your house is just underneath.

Walks around Milhars

The area is good walking country. You can walk along the banks of the Cérou, up into the hills above the village or along la Vallée de Bonnan. The latter is a series of meadows where sheep once grazed, bounded by wooded hills, with the Bonnan, a clear stream flowing through the middle. The Bonnan valley is particularly noted for the diversity of species of plants and insects. The circuit is a lovely walk. Being largely flat, it’s not taxing, either.

Other features in the village:

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