Tournus
The AmaCello sails on to Tournus, a town granted 1,150 years ago to monks who founded its top tourist destination, the Benedictine Abbey of Saint Philibert.
The city of Tournus is less than 20 miles upriver from Mâcon. It was a small Roman settlement when Saint Valérian arrived in the 2nd century and began preaching Christianity to the locals, which promptly led to his execution. (Timing is everything.) His tomb was placed in a sanctuary in Tournus that became a stopping place for pilgrimages.
In 875, Charles the Bald granted Tournus to a group of monks from Noirmoutier, an island on France's west coast. They had been forced to flee their monastery by the same Viking raiders who would become the Normans, the future kings of England. The monks arrived in Tournus with the relics of Saint Philibert, a 7th-century French abbot. At the site of Saint Valérian’s sanctuary, the monks established the Benedictine Abbey of Saint Philibert, the final destination on our morning walk.
Our tour meandered from the port through narrow walkways, passing several homes with colorful façades — brightly painted doors and shutters contrasting cheerfully against cool stonework.
We came upon Saint Madeleine Church, consecrated in 1148. It was pillaged by the Protestant Huguenots in 1562 and shut down in 1791 by the French revolutionaries, who turned it into a warehouse for animal feed and salt. When the revolutionary zeal passed in the early 1800s, it returned to its religious function.
Unlike other stops on our trip, Tournus felt busy with cars and commerce as we approached the plaza at City Hall. In front of the stately 18th-century building stands a PassionFroid frozen-food truck that never seems to get out of the way, no matter how long you wait for a good photo. And in front of that stands a statue of Jean-Baptiste Greuze, a celebrated artist and native son of Tournus. Greuze painted historical events, scenes of everyday life, and portraits of various luminaries — including a noted portrait of Benjamin Franklin completed in 1777.
After poking our heads down a few alleyways, we returned to Rue de la République, the city’s main commercial artery, inspecting the goods in each shop window.
Just beyond the shops lies Saint-Valérien Church, a modest building constructed in the 11th century in a project sponsored by the abbot of Saint-Philibert. Its locking door bar features the visage of a smiling medieval guy you might find in the margins of a monk’s manuscript.
Our gradual climb finally reached the Church of Saint Philibert, built in the First Romanesque style of Burgundy beginning in the 11th century. It is capped by a single pink bell tower (though plans called for two), added in the 12th century. The church was set within fortified walls, a sign of dangerous times and a reaction not only to the Viking raids that sent the monks fleeing to Tournus but a subsequent Hungarian attack on the abbey in 935.
Inside, the church’s thick, rough columns and barrel vaulting convey a sense of deep antiquity.
Marianne and I descended into a crypt below the church, a place of shadows and ancient masonry. We moved through several rooms and came upon a collection of relatively well-preserved mosaics from the 12th century depicting the signs of the zodiac and more.
We finished our tour behind the church at the abbey itself, taking in its lush interior courtyard and well-trodden halls.
After our tour ended, we visited several shops built into the ramparts surrounding the abbey, perusing selections of fine antiques, artwork, and local honey and jams.
Tournus is somewhat famous for its restaurants, with several earning Michelin stars. We searched the town for something simple and reliable and settled on Délices D'Alep, specializing in Syrian and Lebanese cuisine. We poked our head into the empty restaurant with a little trepidation but were soon in kebab heaven. I chose the steak; Marianne had the chicken. Both were outstanding, served with salad, basmati rice, and hummus.
We wandered back to the ship and boarded for another short afternoon sail to Chalon-sur-Saône. Small herds of cows and goats grazed up to the river’s edge as we floated to our next destination, each passing scene feeling grounded and timeless.