Sur le pont d'Avignon,L'on y danse, l'on y danse.Sur le pont d'Avignon,L'on y danse tous en rond.[On the bridge of AvignonWe dance there, we dance there.On the bridge of AvignonWe all dance in circles.](French folk song, 15th century)
Hearing of our visit to Avignon (pop 91,760 in 2022), our French friends tell us about this children's song, stuck in their memories like its American cousin Twinkle Twinkle. There appears to be some debate whether the dancers are on (sur) or under (sous) the bridge – the swirling circles made by the arches and their reflections suggest the latter. We carry a shared anticipation, though there will be no singing or dancing.
The Pont d'Avignon (Pont Saint-Bénézet, 12th century) spans a bend in the Rhône and the Île de la Barthelasse, or it did until the seventeenth century. Only the first four arches remain, along with the Tour Philippe-le-Bel on the opposite bank (Villeneuve-lès-Avignon), barely visible through the trees towards the northwest.
The gatehouse for the bridge is built as of the Remparts d'Avignon (14th century), and we enter through a fortified courtyard, and up the stairs to an elevated walkway. From this level we see the gatehouse is like a barbican, with a portcullis and drawbridge.
The first span now crosses the Boulevard e la Line, a busy, riverside arterial. The second leads to a small stone chapel, which includes La Chapelle Saint-Bénézet (lower level) and La Chapelle Saint-Nicolas (upper level, patron saint of the boatmen, 12th century). The Pont's legend tells of Saint-Bénézet's divine instruction, perhaps like Noah's, to build at the most difficult and longest crossing – this resulted in a series of 'mircales' and sainthood, but the bridge fell to the floods.
With the morning mist clearing, we watch the small ferry boat drive back and forth over the clear, smooth water to the Île.
Stepping up to the broken edge of the Pont, the views back to Avignon in all directions are compelling. Looking down the cobbled road, the Pont provides a processional entrance to the Palais des Papes (14th century) much like the Tiber separates Vatican City from Rome. Perhaps it is fitting, then, that the bridge and this romantic 'arrival' fall into ruin after the Popes returned to Rome.
The placement of the golden statue of La Vierge Marie on the Le Clocher of the Cathédrale Notre-Dame-des-Doms (12th-15th centuries) dates from 1859. What a beacon She is – imagine Her approach over the full length of the curving deck of the kilometer-long bridge. But She and the intact Pont are separated by centuries.
Returning to explore the chapels, La Chapelle Saint-Nicolas is a barrel-vaulted volume at the same level as the deck, just slightly pointed and with an iron gate securing the opening. A curving stairwell drops down to the lower chapel on the left. The retable is on a raised plinth, enclosed by a five-bay, ribbed-vault apse. The Gothic forms suggest a slightly later (re)construction date, perhaps the fourteenth century.
The Notre-Dame de Bon Voyage (patronne des portefaix, pierre XVIIIe siecle; patroness of porters, 18th century) stands by the gate.
From the Pont, stairs run down the east side to the lower chapel. La Chapelle Saint-Bénézet looks properly Romanesque, with rounded arches, a stone pedestal, and beautifully carved column capitals holding a half dome (how horrible the names scratched into the ashlars!). Saint-Bénézet's relics are no longer here, departing after the floods to the Collégiale Saint-Didier (14th century).
The Chapelle looks over the raised cutwater to the west, and the broad, grassy banks leading to the neighboring Pont Édouard Daladier (20th century).
Back over the drawbridge, we find there is, in fact, an explanation of the folk song (Chanson du Pont d'Avignon). We contemplate the circles and the arches.
Walking to the east, we access a short stretch of the parapet and get a panorama of the Pont over the highway: the end of the broken span, the ever-present ferry, the grassy shore of the Île, and the corbeled battlements of the detached Tour between the branches.
The Cathédrale Notre-Dame-des-Doms is our next stop. With the title of cathédrale and its relationship to the Palais des Papes, we might expect something on a grand scale. But it is less than sixty meters long, about the same length as the Basilique Notre-Dame de la Garde (19th century) in Marseille (St Peter's Basilica is 220m). To make up for its size, the Cathédrale relies on its theatrical siting, on the heights of the Rocher des Doms.
From the dark, extended narthex (le porche à l'antique) with its trompe-l'œil coffers, we pass under chunky, cube-like Clocher, and enter the spare, uncrowded, white interior. The side chapels keep their patina, with pointed-arch windows, stained glass, and ribbed vaulting. La Chapelle de la Vierge, a rotunda with a classical coffered dome, sits on the south side of the nave.
An octagonal dome covers the crossing, with faded frescoes of cherubs floating in heavenly gold. The transition from the pointed arch of the nave is made through a series of cascading arches above the chancel.
The remains of a fresco are above the chancel rail; they appear to show Our Lady (praying) and the Salvator Mundi. The bare stone of the apse and altar continue this sense of austerity, balanced around the base by the rich wood of the choir, the framed paneling, and portraits of the Popes.
The Chapelle du Saint Sacrement is the larger space along the north side of the Cathédrale. Here, the wall and ceiling surfaces are covered in dim, Baroque images, and the columns and infill panels are colored stone.
Before we leave the Cathédrale, before we leave Avignon, we take one more opportunity to appreciate La Vierge Marie.
We decide to spend the afternoon exploring as much of Avignon as we can. We start after lunch, right in the heart: the market building of Les Halles (19th-20th centuries). Inside, the stalls are compact, colorful, and business-like.
From Les Halles, we walk south to the Aumône Générale (alms house, 17th century), an imposing courtyard block with dark, arched porticos and partially ruined wings.
Next door is the Théâtre de la Chapelle du Verbe Incarné (17th century), a theater project housed in the old chapel. While the classical temple-front elements remain, the relief in the tympanum and the inscription seem to have suffered deliberate damage, with new tiles identifying the building screwed in place.
The road curves to the north, and we find find a row of religious buildings on the Rue Paul Saïn. The layered, Baroque temple-front of La Chapelle de la Visitation (17th century) dominates the tree-lined Place de la Pignotte – more of a street than a square, west of Les Halles.
Nearby, La Chapelle des Italiens (Notre-Dame de la Conversion, 18th century) is another theater conversion, though a joyful rendition of Vierge à l'Enfant still inhabits the niche above the doorway.
La Chapelle de l'Immaculée Conception (19th century) offers a striking but narrow Gothic facade; given the musicians in the tympanum, this church seems setup for the next conversion.
We finish this string of churches with the Église Saint-Symphorien-les-Carmes (13th-14th centuries). The convent is part of the city block, and pieces of the church and the cloisters are visible as we walk around, but we never get a sense of the building. This is the same church where we saw the local kids playing; the cloisters must be on the other side, built into the neighborhood. From the Place des Carmes, we see its simple facade, though the iconography is worn and illegible.
Unable to enter any of these churches, we make our way to the Basilique Saint-Pierre (14th-16th centuries); we examined its exterior yesterday, too. The front portal is enclosed by iron fencing; our entry is from the south side door, behind the bell tower. Here, we discover a beautifully preserved Gothic interior, with later additions – some parts aged and some restored. Where the Cathédrale feels formal and 'cleaned up', this is comfortable and 'lived in'.
As we enter, on our left is the Mise au Tombeau (15th century), a sculpture depicting Christ's burial, in the epistle-side transept chapel. The figures are missing some fingers and hands, but the lower portion has been cleaned. Above the scene at the tomb, there is a darker Crucifixion, with the sun and moon, and what looks like a pelican. Marie and Jean le Baptiste are on either side, and at the foot of the cross is a skull, a serpent, and roses, possible reminders of the reason for Christ's sacrifice.
A series of beautiful chapels line the south aisle. The first contains a lovely Gothic retable with Christ flanked by the Quatre Évangélistes, and a stained-glass panel with scenes from the Chemin de Croix.
In the next chapel, the stained-glass shows La Vie de la Vierge surrounded by a series of amazing, neo-Gothic portraits of the saints set in architectural niches. For example, on the left side, is an angel in armor (Saint-Michel?) protecting a large palace within a walled city (Palais des Papes?) and below are four female saints from the Old Testament: Débora (with scale), Jephtée (?, with harp), Ruth, and Judith (with sword).
Another illustration shows Mose et le Serpent d'Airain. with some portraits that looked conserved. For sure the dense and colorful patterns in the archivolts are from a recent restoration.
Le Mâitre-Autel (high altar) holds a lavish Baroque altarpiece featuring La Remise des Clefs à Saint Pierre (St Peter receives the keys, 17th century), the Quatre Évangélistes in the colonnade, and a dramatic, backlit sunburst with the Saint-Espirit. Statues of Saint Pierre (keys) and Saint Paul (sword) bookend the chancel.
Many other intriguing pieces fill church: an figure of Saint Roch (with cut and dog; note the wolf attack in the impost above), a banner of Saint Michel expelling Satan with the Latin 'Quis ut Deus', and in the last chapel on the south aisle, a damaged fresco depicting a messenger (likely Amos?) before a king delivering a choice between feast and famine (Charles Barbantan, 1887).
Finally, we notice the right-hand leaf of the front portal is open, exposing the incredible carved panels of Saint Jérôme (skull and lion) and Saint Julien (Antoine Volard, 16th century); unfortunately, the shutter over L'Annonciation on the other side is closed. We step outside into a tight space behind an iron fence but cannot see too much of the exterior from here – but we had that chance yesterday.
Avignon, for such a compact town, contains a stunning wealth of history and art. It is the legacy of the Avignon Papacy, for sure, but can also be found in places like Saint-Pierre, where that legacy is left by the locals.
