Avignon, Papal Palace in Provence (part 2)

For about 100 years, the city of Avignon was transformed by the unexpected presence of the papacy. During the initial 70 years of that sojourn, the resident pope was recognized as the supreme pontiff throughout Christendom, but after the schism, Europe was confused by the conflicting claims issued by two popes, the one residing in Rome and the other remaining in Avignon.

The present palace is but a shadow of its former glories, for it was once the jewel of the church, occasionally attempting to vie with kings and dukes for attention and legitimacy. I nevertheless enjoyed wandering the echoing stone halls, chambers and cloister walkways, imagining what it might have been like to be a monk--or even a menial servant--surrounded by the glories of the 14th-century world. Diplomats, couriers, guards (one statue is barely visible in the top of a tower), abbots, and enterprising rascals looking for political advantage all strode through these halls. I am particularly interested in the various stone window seats. These seem ideal places to sit while waiting to be presented to some official, or a good location to read (while observing what is happening and possibly straining to overhear whispered conversations). Without glass, those stone seats could admit refreshing breezes in the heat of summer or fail to keep out the cold fierce mistrals for which Provence is well known.

Although the stone work is both impressive and reassuring, seeing a mason repairing an old structure reminds me that once a building is constructed, it immediately calls for corrections and repairs.

Below the papal palace, which is essentially a fortified castle, spreads the river and its countryside. The palace always required non-religious support staff, so the town thrived. Today its main industry seems to be tourism, with cafes everywhere, alluring stores and markets. [All of my Avignon pictures were taken with the Canon G9. For other photographs on the Avignon palace, click on Avignon, part 1).

Avignon, Papal Palace in Provence (part 1)

Although it makes virtually no sense, even though I am an active Mennonite, I remain fascinated with the history of the papacy at Avignon. Rome's infrastructure had seriously deteriorated by the late 13th century, its water supply was hardly the best, the city's leading families were not to be trusted, the city's population had dwindled to possibly a mere 20,000 residents (possibly considerably fewer), peninsular politics were as treacherous as they were passionate, and Peter's tomb was only one of many worthy pilgrimage destinations in Europe. By 1300, a number of popes had never bothered to live in Rome, and instead imitated secular monarchs who lived in a variety of places. Clement V felt that Avignon might be a good compromise location, considering rivalries of the blacks and whites (Italian political parties) and the unprecedented political interference of King Philip of France. So the papacy became increasingly centered in Avignon c. 1307-09 into the late 1370s, and afterwards during the decades in which European Christians watched helplessly as two--and then three--popes vied for legitimacy. The court centered at Avignon became increasingly secular in its trappings and politics, and its music (of great interest to me) reached rhythmic complexities unmatched until the 20th century.

The papal palace has since undergone at least one major fire, multiple plunderings, served as a military garrison, was bombed, and has finally once again found peace as an historical monument. It was fascinating to walk through the rooms, listening to the excellent recorded explanations by guides, and ruminating about papal life in this fortified palace far from Rome. Today large slabs of pavement stones are propped up to reveal where the papacy used to hide its silver artifacts and gold coins, for there were no bank vaults that could be trusted with such wealth and the only reasonable insurance available was provided by highly-paid armed guards.

The large chapel would have offered excellent acoustics for the intricate three- and four-part counterpoint of Europe's best soloists, and also enhanced the unison singing of the monks, priests and cardinals. The furniture and tapestries have long since vanished (to Rome and elsewhere), and the paintings on the ceilings and walls could hardly be expected to survive 600 years, but with a little creativity one can still re-enter this period of time in one's imagination.

The pictures I have selected show the great chapel in which I stood, imagining how its stone surfaces would enhance vocal singing and becloud a speaking voice. Since the palace underwent multiple enlargements, I include one photo showing multiple arches which are utterly confusing and would require more architectural knowledge than I have if they are to be sorted out. I also give a picture of the town and countryside as seen through an archer's eyes when looking out through the defensive slits towards the top of the outer stone walls, slits which cleverly protected the palace's archers while raining arrows on unwanted visitors. The tower seen through the archways of the cloister's walkway reminds me that there were both times of contemplative peace in the cloister and the promise of safety in the tower. If only the papal study had not been blocked off so effectively, I would have gladly included a shot of that relatively modest upper room (reconstructed). For more photos, see Avignon, Papal Palace (part 2).