Spaces of Mourning: the Cemetery of Picpus and the Memory of Terror in Post-Revolutionary France
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Spaces of Mourning: The Cemetery of Picpus and the Memory of Terror in Post-Revolutionary France Ronen Steinberg University of Chicago The Parisian cemetery of Picpus has a special meaning in the history of the French Revolution. The former site of a convent that was destroyed during the revolution, it became the burial ground of more than thirteen hundred bodies of people who had been guillotined in the nearby Place du Trône renversé (today Place de la Nation) and interred in two large mass graves in the summer of 1794. After the Terror, family members of the victims purchased the land and began using it as a private cemetery. With the restoration of the Bourbons in 1814, a funerary chapel was constructed on the site; there daily masses were to be held in honor of the victims, and a special commemorative service was to take place once a year in the presence of the affiliated families. Both the annual pilgrimage to Picpus and the burials in the cemetery continue to this day. 1 This article examines the transformation of the cemetery of Picpus from a cimetière des suppliciés (cemetery of the punished), a locus of horror and profanity, into a sacred place and a pilgrimage destination. Historians of the revolution have not neglected the subject of the remembrance of the dead, but, with a few exceptions, they 1 The narrative details about Picpus are drawn from the following sources: G. Lenôtre, Les pèlerinages de Paris révolutionnaire: Le jardin de Picpus (Paris: Perrin, 1928); Paul de Noailles, Anne-Paule-Dominique de Noailles, Marquise de Montagu (Paris, 1872); Lucien Lambeau, Le cimetière de Picpus, 1794–1921 (Paris: Imprimerie Municipale, Commission de Vieux Paris, 1922); Florence de Baudus, Le lien du sang (Paris: Éditions Rocher, 2000). 133 134 Ronen Steinberg have paid less attention to the specific problems posed by the commemoration of the victims of the Terror. The revolutionary decade was on the cusp of a major change in European attitudes towards death. Philippe Ariès argued that the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries were a period of transition to the modern, western notion of "invisible death," by which he meant the tendency to exclude death and the dying as much as possible from ordinary social life. Few historians today accept Aries' arguments about the changing attitudes towards death in the west without reservations, but virtually all agree, at least implicitly, that somehow the cultural and institutional transformations of the revolution played a role in the emergence of the "cult of the dead" in the later nineteenth century. 2 We know a great deal about the complex ways in which the memories of the dead and even their remains were employed to cultivate a republican pedagogy. 3 Even historians who question the extent to which the revolution contributed to transformations in the culture of death and who stress, for example, the continuity and resilience of religious funerary practices despite the revolution's secularizing or laicizing thrust find that the period witnessed an intense politicization of death. 4 Thus, the cult of republican "martyrs" 2 Philippe Ariès, The Hour of Our Death (New York: Knopf, 1981); Madeleine Lassère, Villes et cimetières en France de l'ancien régime à nos jours: Le territoire des morts (Paris: L'Harmattan, 1997); Thomas A. Kselman, Death and the Afterlife in Modern France (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993); Richard Etlin, The Architecture of Death: The Transformation of the Cemetery in Eighteenth Century Paris (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1984). 3 Jean-Claude Bonnet, Naissance du Panthéon: Essai sur le culte des grands hommes (Paris: Fayard, 1998); Mona Ozouf, "Le Panthéon: L'école normale des morts," Pierre Nora, ed., Les lieux de mémoire (Paris: Gallimard, 1984), 1:139-66; Antoine de Baecque, Glory and Terror: Seven Deaths under the French Revolution (New York: Routledge, 2001); Annie Jourdan, Les monuments de la Révolution, 1770–1804: Une histoire de représentation (Paris: Champion, 1997); Avner Ben-Amos, Funerals, Politics, and Memory in Modern France, 1789-1996 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000); Pascal Hintermeyer, Politiques de la mort: Tirées du concours de l'institut, Germinal an VIII–Vendémiaire an IX (Paris: Payot, 1981). 4 See Joseph Clarke, Commemorating the Dead in Revolutionary France: Revolution and Remembrance, 1789–1799 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Proceedings of the Western Society for French History Spaces of Mourning 135 during year II gave way after 9 thermidor to an increasing militarization of the remembrance of the dead, which accorded well with the coming Napoleonic cult of the army. 5 But these were glorious, heroic deaths, the stuff of exemplary deeds and of myths. What of the dead of the Terror? What edifying lessons could be derived from the ignominies of being carted off to the guillotine, of the death of those who were, after all, victims? What place was there in post-revolutionary society to commemorate a negative event, a painful past that evoked disagreement and horror rather than glory? 6 This essay approaches this question by examining how the individuals involved in the creation of the monument at Picpus attempted to carve out a space for mourning the victims of the Terror in a historical moment when such commemorative practices were deemed undesirable by the larger society. In so doing, it draws on insights from studies on the significance of place in the aftermath of violence. Cultural geographer Kenneth Foote has defined the transformations in the meaning of former sites of violent conflict as "the sanctification of place."7 Places are bound up in powerful ways with the identities of the social actors who create them, invest them with meanings, values, considerable emotional energy, and who are, in turn, affected by Press, 2007); John McManners, Death and the Enlightenment: Changing Attitudes to Death among Christians and Unbelievers in Eighteenth-Century France (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1981). 5 See Clarke, Commemorating the Dead, 218; James. A. Leith, Space and Revolution: Projects for Monuments, Squares, and Public Buildings in France, 1789–1799 (Montreal: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1991); Michel Lagrée and Jehanne Roche, Tombes de mémoire: La dévotion populaire aux victimes de la Révolution dans l'ouest (Rennes: Éditions Apogée, 1993). 6 To formulate this question I have drawn on an important article by Robin Wagner-Pacifici and Barry Schwartz, "The Vietnam Veterans Memorial: Commemorating a Difficult Past," American Journal of Sociology 97, no. 2 (1991): 376-420. 7 Kenneth E. Foote, Shadowed Ground: America's Landscapes of Violence and Tragedy (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2003), 8; Philip Smith, "The Elementary Forms of Place and Their Transformations: a Durkheimian Model," Qualitative Sociology 22, no. 1 (1999): 13-36. Volume 36 (2008) 136 Ronen Steinberg them. As sociologist Thomas Gieryn put it, "[Place] stabilizes and gives durability to social and structural categories, differences and hierarchies . embodies and secures otherwise intangible cultural norms, identities and memories."8 The cultural norms, identities, and memories "emplaced" in Picpus belonged primarily to returning émigrés and families of Old Regime nobility, the main groups who were involved in creating it. 9 The social status of these groups in the period between the end of the Terror and the restoration of the Bourbons was highly fluid and uncertain. 10 The uniqueness of Picpus was that it marked an effort to constitute, physically and discursively, a simultaneously private yet public space for the remembrance of the victims of the Terror and for the individuals who maintained the site over the years. In order to appreciate the transformations in the meaning of the cemetery of Picpus, it is first necessary to examine its meaning and significance in the Parisian urban imagination as a cimetière des suppliciés. Michelet was probably the first historian to discuss at some length the burial places used for disposing of victims of the Terror. It was a strange subject for a scholar to tackle—and Michelet knew it. He began his discussion with an apology: "I touch here on a sad subject; history wishes it so . pity itself was extinguished or muted; horror spoke, disgust, and the anxiety of the great city, which feared an epidemic. The living became alarmed, believing themselves to be encircled by the dead."11 Michelet went on to describe the 8 Thomas F. Gieryn, "A Space for Place in Sociology," Annual Review of Sociology 26 (2000), 473. 9 "Emplace" here means that intangible cultural qualities, such as norms, memories, and identities, are given tangible form and expression in a physical space. 10 On the conditions of Old Regime nobility in postrevolutionary France, André Jardin and André Jean Tudesq, Restoration and Reaction, 1815–1848 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1983); Christophe Charle, A Social History of France in the Nineteenth Century (Oxford: Berg, 1994). 11 Jules Michelet, Histoire de la Révolution française (Paris: Gallimard, 1952), 2:923. All translations from the French are my own unless otherwise indicated. Proceedings of the Western Society for French History Spaces of Mourning 137 recurring complaints from residents living near those sites who were worried that the putrid air emanating from the open graves would have pernicious effects on their health. Thus did Michelet, with his customary acuity, sniff out that the cemeteries of the punished occupied an important and troubling space in the mental topography of the residents of Paris. There were three such sites in the capital: La Madeleine, famous as the burial place of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette; the cemetery of Mousseaux, today parc Monceau; and Picpus. 12 These places were chosen primarily for their proximity to the guillotines. After the executions, tumbrels would carry the bodies to one of the three sites, where officials of the commune would register the names of the dead and inventory their clothes and other belongings.13 Then they would be placed in mass graves that remained open until full.