No More Learning

114 The Cult of the Nation in France
? associated with himself, such as loyalty, piety, or military valor, and to highlight aspects of his own career. Yet in creating the gallery, he helped es- tablish a new French canon, centered less on the monarchy than on the in- stitutions and servants of the state. 16
Unlike Horace's poetry, Richelieu's monument was less durable than bronze, for the gallery perished in an eighteenth-century fire. But for a century it featured prominently in descriptions of Paris and was memori- alized in verse. 17 And in 1655, the engravers Heince and Bignon published a volume of reproductions of the paintings and enlisted a courtier, Marc Vulson de la Colombie`re, to write accompanying biographical essays. The book went through four editions in eighteen years, shrinking in the pro- cess from an in-folio to an in-quarto, and then finally an in-octavo. 18 With this shift from painting to print, a new genre had been born.
Between 1697 and 1792, at least fourteen more collective biographies appeared, many in multivolume sets. The first came from an author illus- trious in his own right, Charles Perrault, who intended his paean to a hun- dred illustrious men of the grand sie`cle primarily as a salvo in the ongoing quarrel of the Ancients and Moderns. Like Richelieu, Perrault limited his canon to France and insisted in the preface that he had "nothing but the honor of France in mind. "19 Later contributions tended to take both Per- rault and the engravings in Richelieu's gallery as their models--indeed, they not infrequently plagiarized these sources and each other. While a few remained essentially collections of engravings, overall the tendency, start- ing with the abbe? Morvan de Bellegarde in 1726, was toward smaller or no illustrations, and ever more voluminous essays. In some cases, individual biographies expanded to hundreds of pages each and merited volumes to themselves, as in the successful series started by Jean Du Castre d'Auvigny. The selection of great men in this genre differed substantially from those found in others, and the canon changed markedly over the course of the century.
With the exception of Perrault's work, these biographies are less inter- esting, aesthetically and intellectually, than the paintings, statues, and eulo- gies. They seem to be hastily written and their style is unremarkable, which is not surprising, as their authors mainly belonged to the profit-obsessed "Grub Street" of French publishing immortalized by Robert Darnton. 20 Louis-Pierre Manuel, for instance, was a former Bastille prisoner and fu- ture Jacobin who had failed at numerous literary endeavors. Police files de- scribed Jean-Zorobabel Aublet de Maubuy as an unemployed attorney's
National Memory and the Canon of Great Frenchmen 115
? [To view this image, refer to the print version of this title. ]
Figure 7. Renaissance hero Bayard; the engraving is copy of a painting in Cardinal Richelieu's portrait gallery in the Palais Royal. From Marc Vulson de la Colombie`re, et al. , Les hommes illustres (The Illustrious Men), Paris, 1658
116 The Cult of the Nation in France
? clerk who would lend his poison pen to whatever cause would pay him. 21 Nonetheless, the books have a capital importance. In the first place, they served as a principal source of information for the other genres. The paint- ers who filled d'Angiviller's commissions, for instance, drew on material from Franc? ois-Henri Turpin's many works on great men. 22 The authors of eulogies clearly relied on the information that the collective biographies provided. 23 Secondly, the works reached far more members of the public than the paintings and sculptures and all but the most successful eulogies and stage plays. As with most eighteenth-century works, measuring their diffusion is difficult. It is worth observing, however, that publishers would probably not have committed themselves to works that often extended to a score of volumes and that faced considerable competition (particularly be- tween 1770 and 1789, when eight came out), unless the genre had com- mercial potential. Furthermore, several of the works sold by subscrip- tion--readers received new installments at regular intervals, in a sort of "great-man-of-the-month club"--and would hardly have continued, in Du Castre d'Auvigny's case for thirty years, without the subscribers' sup- port. 24
In all these media, the cult of great men had a tirelessly pedagogical, pa- triotic character. Expose the French to an endless parade of meritorious examples, so the assumption went, and imitation would naturally take place. "Great men," wrote the author of one collective biography, "are, so to speak, mirrors in which one contemplates oneself, so as to better oneself. "25 D'Angiviller told the Royal Academy of Painting and Sculpture in 1775 that his purpose was to "revive virtue and patriotic sentiments," while the dramatic authors who copied Buirette de Belloy generally hoped to elicit the sort of swooning responses elicited by the Siege of Calais. Recall the words of his admirer Manson: "People will say: 'Why can I not do what this person has done? He was French; I am as well. '"26 The advocates of public galleries or cemeteries of great men tended to justify the project in the terms stated by Maille Dusaussoy, in a 1767 proposal for rebuilding the Louvre: "The revered statues . . . placed in the Palace of our Kings, will pro- duce more Great Men who will equal and perhaps surpass them. "27
At the same time, eighteenth-century works tended increasingly to dis- tinguish between the "illustrious," whose reputation rested on heroic-- even accidentally heroic--deeds, and the "great," whose notable qualities supposedly suffused every aspect of their lives. As Bonnet has shown, this distinction owed its wide acceptance in the eighteenth century to the phi-
National Memory and the Canon of Great Frenchmen 117
? losopher-bishop Fe? nelon, and especially to that irenic philosopher of Eu- ropean peace, the abbe? Saint-Pierre, who emphasized that greatness arose from "inner qualities of the mind and heart alone, and from the great benefits that one brings to society. "28 Following this lead, the philosophes frequently belittled military heroes as little more than successful brigands, and reserved their admiration for true benefactors of humanity. The eulo- gists thus dwelt endlessly on their subjects' diligent cultivation of native talents, their selfless dedication to others and to the state, their humble rejection of material rewards, their wise simplicity, their steadfast courage in moments of despair and disgrace, and their magnanimity in moments of triumph. They delighted in images of Montesquieu chatting with his Gascon peasants, d'Aguesseau lost in contemplation of ancient philoso- phers, the medieval abbe? Suger tirelessly working to reconcile warring barons.
In the last decades of the old regime, some authors had taken the dis- tinction even further, finding a person's true greatness less in public acts than in private, intimate behavior. As Manuel remarked concisely in the preface to his French Year (1789), "private life is the surest testimony of public life. "29 Plutarch himself, as his eighteenth-century French translator emphasized, had focused on the "inner," as opposed to the "public" man alone. 30 But just as French lawyers of the 1770s and 1780s treated private, familial disputes as windows into public politics, so the biographers now frankly privileged the private over the public, preferring to capture the great man in the bosom of his family instead of on the battlefield, in the courtroom, or on any other public arena. "It is in domestic obscurity," Manuel continued, "that I have observed my great men. "31
Still, celebrations of illustrious figures and heroic actions continued, and the line between "illustrious" and "great" remained less rigid than has sometimes been suggested. 32 Franc? ois-Henri Turpin's Illustrious France freely mixed discussions of "heroes" and "virtuous" men, while collections of engravings continued to glorify the military triumphs that Voltaire, among others, usually sneered at. 33 Antoine-Franc? ois Sergent's elaborate series of Portraits (1786-1792) borrowed freely from Thomas's Eloge de d'Aguesseau in praise of the late Lord Chancellor's selfless actions on behalf of the starving population in 1709, but the author went back to Heince, Bignon, and Vulson to hail the victories of Duguesclin and Joan of Arc. In- deed, he copied several of his engravings directly from theirs. 34
The national cult of great men had its provincial equivalents in count-
118 The Cult of the Nation in France
? [To view this image, refer to the print version of this title. ]
Figure 8. Louis Joseph de Montcalm, the commander of French forces in North America during the Seven Years' War, was killed at the Battle of the Plains of Abraham outside Que? bec in 1759. In this engraving, Indians drawn to resemble Europens serve to witness the general's heroic death. "La Mort de Montcalm" (The Death of Montcalm), engraving from Antoine-Franc? ois Sergent, Portraits des grands hommes, femmes illustres et sujets me? morables de France (Portraits
of the Great Men, Illustrious Women and Memorable Subjects of France), Paris, 1786.
less eulogies delivered at provincial academies, in sculptures and engrav- ings, and in collective biographies dedicated to the grands hommes of Burgundy, Provence, Brittany and so forth. This material still awaits its his- torian. Still, even a brief glance indicates that it in no way constituted an expression of minority nationalism, and did not (unlike some of the pre-
National Memory and the Canon of Great Frenchmen 119
? revolutionary material discussed in Chapter 2) present any sort of chal- lenge to French national unity. Rather, it seems to constitute a predeces- sor to the sort of nineteenth-century local patriotism recently studied by Anne-Marie Thiesse: a patriotism which taught that allegiance to the na- tional whole began with allegiance to, and an appreciation of, what was nearby and familiar. In this sense, the provincial cults of great men only strengthened the larger, national one. 35
The Great Men and the Domain of the Sacred
The cult of great men illustrates much the same religious dynamic that I have discussed in the context of politics and warfare: on the one hand, an effort to imagine and reorder the world without reference to divine Provi- dence; on the other, a recourse to the forms and practices of Counter-Ref- ormation Catholicism. In this case, the echoes of Catholicism are entirely obvious. The celebrations of the great men clearly marked them out as sa- cred. It reserved special spaces for them, free from all possible profanity and pollution, as in the plans for a Pantheon; and it emphasized their tran- scendence through sacrifice, as in the Calais burghers' acceptance of immi- nent martyrdom in Belloy's play, or in the actual martyrdom of Jumonville or Montcalm. Furthermore, the exemplary conduct that great men report- edly displayed at every moment of their lives, and the way they served as models for others, with their images placed relentlessly before the popu- lation, recalled nothing so much as the saints of the Roman Catholic Church. Some authors came close to making the comparison explicit. Manuel's French Year, for instance, proposed a great Frenchman for every day of the year: contemporaries could hardly have missed the parallel to the church's calendar of saints. A few canonical great men--for instance, Charlemagne--were lauded as Christlike figures who had saved France from its sins. 36 A future Jacobin named Baumier wrote a poem about a well-celebrated hero--the Chevalier d'Assas of Seven Years' War fame--in which he suggested that "reading the lives of Great Men" could start a "holy fire" burning in susceptible breasts. He continued:
Ta tombe, en s'e? croulant, se transforme en Autel. O ma^nes d'un He? ros a` qui le sang me lie,
Sur cet Autel sacre? qui s'e? le`ve a` mes yeux, J'incline avec respect un front religieux,
120 The Cult of the Nation in France
? Et de? pose en ce jour L'Hommage a la Patrie! [Your tomb, falling down, becomes an Altar.
O shades of a Hero linked to me by blood,
On this holy Altar which is rising before my eyes, I bend a religious brow with respect
And lay down today Homage to the Patrie! ]37
Such words recall Carl Becker's famous contention about the eighteenth century, that "there is more of Christian philosophy in the writings of the Philosophes than has yet been dreamt of in our histories. "38
The idea that the cult simply amounted to a substitute religion, however, is misleading. Its development does confirm just how much eighteenth- century attempts to forge a new French nation owed to earlier, Catholic at- tempts to forge a new church. But it is not as if some eternal, "furious need to believe" (to quote Bonnet) turned the French towards the cult of great men when an emotionally impoverished Catholicism had ceased to slake their spiritual thirst. 39 In the 1790s, the Revolution's cult of great men did indeed sometimes veer into a sort of substitute Christianity--as when the Cordeliers carried Marat's heart through the streets of Paris chanting "heart of Jesus, heart of Marat," or when a Jacobin preacher talked of a rev- olutionary martyr rising up to heaven on tricolor wings. 40 The old regime cult, however, was different. The admirable qualities of its great men de- rived from, and their admirable lives were lived in, a purely human, terres- trial sphere. Neither owed anything to any supernatural force. Thomas's eulogies, for instance, virtually never mentioned God or the supernatu- ral, while they implicitly celebrated humanity's ability to create value and meaning from within itself. 41 Even the most obviously "miraculous" great figure in French history, Joan of Arc, underwent a rigorous disenchant- ment in the few eighteenth-century collections which still acknowledged a public role for women in French history (as we will see, few did). In 1655, Vulson's text for the engraving of Joan's portrait in Richelieu's gallery pre- sented her as a pure instrument of God's will. 42 But Aublet de Maubuy, in his 1762 Lives of Illustrious Women of France, resolutely minimized the role of divine inspiration, arguing that Joan's visions, while not frauds, were de- lusions which grew out of her excessively "ecstatic devotion. "43 In this sense, the cult fits into the pattern of the interiorization of religious life de- scribed in Chapter 1.
Furthermore, what made the great men great was precisely their devo-
National Memory and the Canon of Great Frenchmen 121
? tion to their fellow humans. If they deserved respect and commemoration, it was not for their great love of God, or for Homeric, superhuman feats, but, as Saint-Pierre wrote and the eulogists repeated, for the benefits they brought to human society or the "patrie. " Thus to the prize-winning eulo- gist de la Harpe, an eminent seventeenth-century soldier like Catinat was remarkable less for his military acumen than for the humanity he showed in sparing Savoy the ravages of his armies. Thomas similarly praised the seventeenth-century sailor Duguay-Trouin for preferring the merchant marine and commerce to the navy and war. 44 Great men "need only have devoted their talents to France to have the right to our gratitude," wrote the painter Jean-Bernard Restout in his 1771 French Gallery. 45 And Manuel commented in the preface to his French Year: "I have above all looked for useful citizens. He who discovers a new form of subsistence or a new branch of commerce for his country, deserves to stand in the same rank with him who enlightens or defends it. "46 The cult of great men may have attempted to bathe its subjects in an aura of sacrality, but the men them- selves were models, not icons.
To be sure, Renaissance readers had already found in Plutarch the spec- tacle of exemplary lives in which Christian inspiration had no part. 47 What the eighteenth-century cult added was the idea that great men rendered their services first and foremost to the national community, and that they helped consciously to build that community by their efforts and examples. Saint-Pierre, in the early years of the century, might still have spoken in general terms of society, echoing Fe? nelon's embrace of a universal human community. 48 But the Acade? mie in 1758 limited itself to the "great men of the nation," and the eulogists and biographers of the 1770s and 1780s wrote almost exclusively of the nation, the patrie, and France. The eigh- teenth-century cult also added the idea that the nation itself should take charge of putting images of the great before the population. It thereby transformed the experience of reflecting on great men from an individual, voluntary act of edification into a public project of nation-forming.
The Great Men, the Monarchy, and Royal Patriotism
Like the war propaganda of the Seven Years' War, the cult of great men helped establish the nation itself as the most important reference point in French political culture. For this reason, it is tempting to think of it as sub- versive, perhaps even deliberately subversive, of the monarchy which had
122 The Cult of the Nation in France
? previously occupied this position. Jean-Claude Bonnet has recently made an argument much along these lines. The eulogy in particular, he writes, "far from being a dusty rhapsody concerned exclusively with the past, re- vealed itself to be a little machine of power which affected the immediate present, and the future of the polity. "49 Despite the monarchy's best at- tempts to control the cult, Bonnet claims, a "fatal rivalry began" between the king and the great men, which ultimately left him symbolically evacu- ated from the national space which the cult defined. 50
This argument, while compelling in some respects, disregards important features of the context in which the cult developed. To begin with, it downplays the extent to which celebrations of great Frenchmen, insofar as they had an explicit polemical purpose, were directed principally against France's supposed subjection to Greek and Roman antiquity. The archi- tects of the cult rarely compared the great men to French monarchs, but they routinely and explicitly argued that the French needed great men of their own rather than distant and alien classical ones. "The Greeks dealt with national subjects," the Journal des Savants claimed in a scathingly witty 1781 article on the theater, "and we have concluded from this that we should deal with Greek subjects. Horace praised Roman authors who had dealt with national subjects, and we have concluded simply that we can deal with Roman subjects too. "51 Buirette de Belloy wrote similarly, in his dedication to the Siege of Calais, "Let it not be said by those who come out of our theater: 'The great men I have just seen played were Romans; I was not born in a country where I can emulate them. ' Let it be said, sometimes at least: 'I have just seen a French hero; I can be such a one too. '"52 Or con- sider the argument endorsed by Lefebvre de Beauvray in his 1770 Social and Patriotic Dictionary: "The great actions of the Greeks and Romans touch only our minds, and prompt only our admiration; those of our own Na- tion would impress on our souls a livelier sentiment: emulation. "53 One of the most prolific authors of collective biographies, Franc? ois-Henri Turpin, emphasized the competition with the ancients by giving one of his works the title The French Plutarch, incidentally joining the company of British and Russian Plutarchs that also appeared in the eighteenth century. 54
In this sense, the cult traces its lineage back less to Fe? nelon and Saint-Pi- erre than to the Quarrel of the Ancients and the Moderns of the late seven- teenth century. And beyond the Quarrel, it threads its way further back, to the long struggle of French authors to see their own language and lit- erature recognized as the equal of Latin and Greek. In the Renaissance,
National Memory and the Canon of Great Frenchmen 123
? Du Bellay had already sounded a clear call to arms: Were the French, he asked, inferior to the Greeks and Romans, to make so little of their own language? 55 In the seventeenth century, Franc? ois Charpentier similarly wrote that if the Greeks had used Greeks in their public Inscriptions, and the Romans had used Latin, then the French should use French. 56 By the eighteenth century, the debate had shifted to primary education and the desire to banish Latin from that domain as well. As the educational re- former La Chalotais quipped in the 1760s, "a foreigner to whom one ex- plained the details of our education would imagine that France's principal goal was to populate Latin seminaries, cloisters, and colonies. "57
From this perspective, the celebration of great Frenchmen, like the cele- bration and use of the French language, hardly dimmed the luster of the king; to the contrary. The glory of French writers and great men re- dounded on him, increasing his stature and historical reputation, indeed putting him on a level with the Roman emperors. Perrault, a collaborator of Colbert's, made the point explicitly in his Hommes illustres, when he stressed that extraordinary figures tended to be born at a time when "the heavens have decided to give to the earth some great prince," and that great men served "either as the instruments of the prince's great actions, the builders of his magnificence, or the trumpets of his glory. "58 It is hardly a coincidence that most of the eighteenth-century plans for sculpture gar- dens of great Frenchmen envisioned the men surrounding the king like so many jewels in his crown.
It is precisely because France's kings hoped to gain luster from the glory of France's great men that much of the cult amounted to a quasi-official enterprise, sanctioned and sponsored by the monarchy itself. The most di- rect cases involved d'Angiviller's commissions for paintings and sculp- tures. But as we have seen, the presentation of great Frenchmen on the stage, particularly in Belloy's Siege of Calais, enjoyed, at the very least, en- thusiastic royal support. As for the eulogies, it is hardly a coincidence that the Acade? mie Franc? aise decided to change the form of its eloquence com- petition in 1758, the year in which the Seven Years' War started to turn des- perate for France, and the anti-English propaganda campaign described in the last chapter reached its height. (This is when the master eulogist Thomas wrote the rabidly anti-English Jumonville and served as secretary to Foreign Minister Choiseul. ) And the subject of the first competition, which Thomas won, was none other than the Mare? chal de Saxe, who had won the old regime's last great military victory at Fontenoy, in 1745. As for
124 The Cult of the Nation in France
? the subject of the third competition, Duguay-Trouin, his military reputa- tion paled before that of a Vauban or Duguesclin (to put it charitably), and his selection only made sense in the context of the ongoing royal campaign to elicit voluntary donations for ship building. (Thomas, again the winner of the competition, wrote his entry while working at Versailles. ) In fact, eleven of the sixteen figures chosen by the Acade? mie between 1758 and 1790 were faithful servants of the monarchy, and the winning eulogists rarely failed to praise them for their love of the king (see Table 2). "What perhaps contributed no less to developing his talents than so much com- bat, study and reflection," wrote Thomas of Duguay-Trouin, "was his love for Louis XIV, and Louis XIV's esteem for him. "59 Another prize winner, who had served as one of Lord Chancellor Maupeou's chief defenders after the 1771 coup, used his eulogy to praise the king and lambaste the parle- ments. 60 In the last years of the old regime, Sergent's collection of 96 col- ored engravings included 46 military heroes and 30 kings and queens. 61
Indirectly, the cult did express a profound displeasure with the social hi- erarchy and the world of the royal court. As early as 1697, Perrault drew criticism for not organizing his grands hommes of the grand sie`cle by social rank, and for including men of low birth. 62 Thomas, in the same prize- winning eulogy of Duguay-Trouin, praised the sailor for "being born with- out ancestors" and contrasted his simple and upright figure to the "idle and disdainful courtiers" of Versailles. "True nobility comes from serving the state," he commented. "It is very difficult for those who have titles to forgive those who have virtues. "63 Such comments ran through the eulogies and the collective biographies, which almost always found the origins of their subjects' greatness not in blood, title, or position, but in inner quali- ties and merit, in keeping with the general theme that great men exempli- fied the potential of the human spirit.
This egalitarianism, however, was not incompatible with a powerful at- tachment to the French monarchy. The authors in question simply distin- guished between the monarchy, which they adored, and the court, which they despised. In this sense, they followed Voltaire, who notoriously com- bined a loathing for court society and the aristocracy which had spurned him with support for virtually unrestrained royal authority (he even wrote pamphlets in support of Chancellor Maupeou's coup). Thomas, not coin- cidentally, admired Voltaire more than any other contemporary figure. 64 Although the French revolutionaries would later turn the cult of great men to their own democratic purposes, under the old regime the sort of senti-
National Memory and the Canon of Great Frenchmen 125
? ments Thomas expressed accorded well with the enlightened absolutism advocated by Voltaire and figures like the Marquis d'Argenson, who were explicitly hostile to the parlements. It fit in directly with the project of royal patriotism discussed in the last two chapters: the attempt to ground the king's authority not in divine right, social contract, or constitutional tradi- tion, but in the direct, affective bond between the king and individual citi- zens. Thomas's celebration of the Mare? chal de Saxe, d'Aguesseau, Duguay- Trouin, and Sully during the last four years of the Seven Years' War thus served much the same political purpose as his concomitant celebration of Jumonville.
The cult of great men, like the project of royal patriotism, did raise a po- tential danger for the monarchy, for the citizens' love of the king depended on his remaining a worthy object of affection. "He loved Louis XIV, not as a Master, but as a great man," wrote Thomas of Duguay-Trouin. 65 Similarly, Manuel remarked of Renaissance France's Louis XII: "Under this citizen king, the people barely realized they had a master: serving a king whom one loves is not obedience. "66 The authors poured scorn on what Manuel called "these do-nothing kings" who had vanished into obscurity. 67 But un- til the Revolution, the greatness of the reigning king was taken, publicly at least, as axiomatic. Illicit pamphlets might mock and revile Louis XV and Louis XVI, but not until the Revolution did freely circulating works openly discuss the current monarch's failure to live up to the standard of great- ness, still less argue that this failure justified his removal.
Masculine Republicanism
Although the cult of great men did serve the project of royal patriotism, its significance for the political culture of the late old regime did not stop there. In other ways, like royal patriotism itself, it contributed deeply to the cultural shifts which made French revolutionary radicalism thinkable.
Most important, the cult not only helped popularize classical republican ideas (from the Roman tradition revived and modified in Renaissance Italy and then in England and America), but suggested that these ideas had a di- rect relevance to modern France. As a good deal of recent historical work has shown, republican ideas held a fascination for French elites in the last decades before the Revolution.
From the writings of Rousseau and Mably, to the neoclassical paintings of David, to the court speeches and printed briefs of barristers denouncing corruption and injustice, reverent images
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? of the ancient republics proliferated at the end of the old regime, along with praise for political systems in which free, independent, and equal citizens, effortlessly resistant to the blandishments of luxury and amour propre, joined together in governing and in defense of the common- wealth. 68 In strictly political terms, however, this republicanism remained for the most part an abstraction with no direct relation to the realities of French government. As Rousseau and Montesquieu themselves had stressed, republics simply could not serve as the proper form of govern- ment in large Christian monarchies located in the temperate climate of Western Europe. The very notion of a true French republic remained largely unthinkable.
The cult of great men, however, presented a canon of recognizably French, Christian figures who possessed, in the new retelling of their sto- ries, the essential attributes of exemplary republican citizens. The shift from equating distinction with heroic actions and accomplishments to equating it with inner, domestic qualities, had particular importance here. Great feats of military valor or great artistic achievements, such as those the seventeenth-century panegyrists celebrated, had nothing intrinsically republican about them. To the extent they brought classical models to mind, the names in question were Caesar, Alexander, or Achilles, not Marius or Brutus. But the qualities commonly attributed to great men in the eighteenth-century eulogies--independence, steadfastness, virtue de- fined as a solemn dedication to the common good, immunity to the seduc- tions of luxury, lucre, and sensual pleasure--were precisely those that the republican tradition identified as the hallmarks of proper citizenship, and indeed those that Montesquieu had recently identified with republics (by contrast, illustrious feats and heroic actions belonged more to the realm of honor, which Montesquieu identified with monarchies). 69 However high their birth, however well placed in the social hierarchy, however exposed to wealth and temptation, truly great men, so the eulogies and collective bi- ographies insisted, behaved like Roman citizens in the heyday of the Re- public. The concern on the part of the cult's architects to demonstrate France's parity with or even superiority to Greece and Rome only high- lighted these republican attributes further, by setting up inescapable paral- lels between the French figures and their classical predecessors. And given the cult's relentless presentation of great men as models to be emulated, its gallery of supposedly familiar French historical figures in fact constituted nothing less than a school of republican politics.
National Memory and the Canon of Great Frenchmen 127
? The cult's intrinsic republicanism shows through particularly in the way its participants attempted to establish stark and unforgiving gender divi- sions. As many scholars have argued, French republicanism of the revolu- tionary era derived its polemical energy in large part from the contrast it set up between properly organized polities, where male citizens dominated the public arena and women remained in the private realm of the home, and corrupt polities, where gender boundaries became hopelessly blurred. In this perspective Versailles, a place of feminine influence and intrigue, could only be seen as the nec plus ultra of corruption and political degener- ation. Rousseau, the key figure in French republicanism of this era, first ar- ticulated the contrast, but it remained in force through the period of the radical Revolution. 70
These ideas permeated the cult of great men of the eighteenth cen- tury. The oratorical competitions of the Acade? mie Franc? aise proposed no women as subjects for eulogies, and following them, d'Angiviller chose none as the subjects of portraits or sculptures. Women often received the appellation ce? le`bre (famous) or illustre (illustrious), but French authors made no attempt to find a female equivalent for the phrase "grand(s) homme(s)" (grande femme means a large woman, rather than a great one). 71 In other words, while women could perform glorious and heroic actions, as Joan of Arc and innumerable saints had done, they did not, ac- cording to the architects of the cult, have the qualities requisite for republi- can citizenship.
The collective biographies seem at first to offer an exception to this rule. Richelieu's portrait gallery included three women: an improbably elegant Joan of Arc (treated as the vessel of God's will), Marie de Me? dicis (mother of the reigning Louis XIII), and Anne of Austria (Louis XIII's queen). At the end of the old regime, Sergent's Portraits included 12 women, along with 84 men. Aublet de Maubuy devoted an entire book to French women, in which he dismissed notions of natural male superiority as "prejudice," attacked a certain Monsieur R. , obviously Rousseau, for try- ing to lower women to the status of domestic animals, and added, in refer- ence to women's literary skills: "Give them an education like that given to men, excite their emulation, cultivate their talents, and soon we will see them our rivals. "72 His work fit into an established tradition of proto-femi- nist portraits of famous women. 73 Yet in Sergent's book, which spanned French history from the Gauls to Louis XVI, while half the 84 "great men" came from the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the most recent of
128 The Cult of the Nation in France
? the 12 women had died in 1550 (and four before 1000 a. d. ). 74 It is as if the author only felt comfortable dealing with women in the public sphere if they had lived so long before as to make them into virtual legends. Even Aublet suggested that women deserved a serious education in large part so that they could serve as properly stimulating and sympathetic companions to men. He explicitly warned against taking the mostly royal and aristo- cratic members of his female canon as role models, and lovingly recounted their crimes and follies alongside their achievements. 75 The very consign- ment of women to a volume of their own testified to a literal separation of the sexes in French history.
The cult's republicanism implicitly criticized the belief that a nation's treatment of women was a measure of its civilization. But then, the cult of great men implicitly criticized the concept of civilization itself, holding up instead the classical concept of the patria as the proper foundation of hu- man existence. To the extent that it reshaped France's national memory, therefore, it replaced the story of a nation struggling to rise out of barba- rism towards civilization by the story of a nation struggling to restore itself to a pristine condition of republican health, from which it had fallen into dangerous degeneration, in large part because of the reckless freedoms it allowed women.
The Market and the Public
Thus far I have been able to generalize about the cult of great men and to fit it into the story of pre-revolutionary French nationalism and patriotism laid out in the previous chapters. The cult, I have argued, helped the French to see the nation and the patrie as the fundamental background against which human activity took place; its architects consciously treated it as a means of establishing just order in a disenchanted world, although they often adopted the language and practices of the Catholic Church to achieve their ends. Their implicitly republican vision of the nation stood in stark contrast to portraits of France as a hierarchical society of orders. Yet to the extent the cult had an explicit political role, it was the monarchy which sought most insistently to develop and manipulate it. In these re- spects, the story of the cult complements the stories of political conflicts and war propaganda.
In another area, however, the cult of great men resists such generaliza- tion: the attitudes it embodied towards French history and memory. Here,
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Figure 9. This engraving of Joan of Arc, copied from a painting in Cardinal Richelieu's gallery in the Palais Royal, appeared in Marc Vulson de la Colombie`re, et al. , Les hommes illustres (The Illustrious Men), Paris, 1658.
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? the collective biographies followed a unique path of their own, and they more fully anticipated the nationalism and patriotism of the Revolution than did the quasi-official eulogies, plays, paintings, and statues. Indeed, in the years before the Revolution, the biographies leaned less toward re- shaping France's collective memory for patriotic purposes than toward the beginning of a desire to wipe it clean altogether.
The biographies parted company with the quasi-official genres most obviously in the size of the canon of great men they celebrated. Over a pe- riod of thirty years, the Acade? mie Franc? aise proposed only sixteen men as subjects of its oratorical competition. D'Angiviller, in the twelve years be- fore the Revolution, commissioned twenty-eight statues of great men and twelve history paintings highlighting their actions. 76 By contrast, the canon presented in the printed biographies expanded vertiginously during the eighteenth century. Heince, Bignon, and Vulson, following Richelieu in his gallery, had presented only 25 great men. But Perrault, in 1700, chose an even hundred. His immediate successors fell back from this mark, limiting themselves to 30 or 40 each. But the series begun by Jean Du Castre d'Auvigny in 1739 reached 50, and the first solo venture by his succes- sor Franc? ois-Henri Turpin, in the 1770s, reached 65. The 1770 collection Historical Tablets went up to 296, Turpin's 1782 French Plutarch to 112, Sergent's 1786 Portraits to 96, and the same year's Heroic and Historical Deeds and Actions of Great Men (Faits et actions he? roi? ques et historiques des Grands Hommes) to 82. And of course Manuel's French Year included no fewer than 365 great men of the nation, one for each day of the year. 77
These differences resulted from strikingly different dynamics at work in the two cases. The Acade? mie was the prisoner of its biennial schedule, and d'Angiviller faced constraints of time, money, and available talent; in any case, he wanted to focus the attention of viewers in the Salons on a rela- tively small number of artworks. 78 Nor was there any pressure to find new great men to honor. Nine of the Acade? mie's sixteen also appeared in d'Angiviller's selections, and virtually all of d'Angiviller and the Acade? mie's choices had previously appeared in one or another collective biography. The point was rather to call renewed attention to what were, after all, canonical figures; to find new and striking ways of presenting fa- miliar stories, in the same way that artists returned incessantly to the story of Jesus.
The authors of the collective biographies, on the other hand, felt a con-
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? stant pressure to innovate and to discover new great men to honor. They did not work on commission and could not easily slip into the role of semi-official pedagogues instructing the semi-captive audience of the academy and the Salons. They were authors competing in a commercial marketplace, who had to convince their readers that they had something novel to offer, something not found in previous collections. Consider the abbe? Morvan de Bellegarde. Morvan clearly based his 1726 Les vies de plusieurs hommes illustres on Heince, Bignon, and Vulson--to put it more plainly, he shamelessly pirated them. He included 19 of their 25 subjects, leaving out only Joan of Arc, kings, and members of the royal family, and he freely plagiarized Vulson's text. Nonetheless, he strove to make his book look as different as possible from its predecessor. He expanded the essays, tacking onto Vulson's rather bare lists of heroic accomplishments some new details and many homiletic asides. He updated the canon, adding eleven statesmen and soldiers who had achieved fame after the construc- tion of Richelieu's gallery. Most important, whereas Richelieu had de- signed his gallery as a celebration of the French state, Morvan's publisher, Le Gras, cast the new work as a celebration of the nobility (which explains the removal of Joan and the kings), and suggested, in a sycophantic dedica- tory epistle, that France's present-day nobles would find the book a source of pride and inspiration. 79 Le Gras and Morvan may indeed have had a sin- cere admiration for the nobility, but they were also shrewd marketers, who hoped to find new buyers for their work among the wealthiest order of the kingdom.
Similarly, when Jean Du Castre d'Auvigny launched his own hugely suc- cessful series thirteen years later (it would remain a going concern for three decades, and expand to 26 volumes), he soon felt the need to issue a pro- spectus explicitly distinguishing the work from those of Vulson, Perrault, and Morvan:
[There are] those who have reproached me for stealing the materials which make up the first part of my Book, and who have called it, without having read it, a compilation and collection of Histories; but the Public has certainly compared the Lives I have given it with what can be read elsewhere on the subject, with the works of Perrault, of [Morvan de] Bellegarde, with the Gallery of the Palais Royal [Heince, Bignon, and Vulson], or individual Histories . . . These Works are, for the most part,
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? nothing more than very short, badly written eulogies, long Genealogies, or cold Panegyrics, or tissues of lies, dictated by private interest, fear or baseness. 80
Du Castre d'Auvigny added many more great men, as did his successors at the helm of the project, abbe? Gabriel Pe? rau, and Turpin. By 1782, when Turpin was launching yet another collection of his own, novelty had be- come the principal selling point: "nothing has yet been written on most of the Great Men whom I have given to history. I have cleared new and uncul- tivated land. "81 As for Manuel, he implicitly made the same claim when he dipped deep into the well of obscurity to find not merely a few good men, but 365 great ones. Had many of his readers ever heard of such figures as Baron d'Espagnac, Etienne Geoffroi, or Pierre Carlet?
The collective biographies clearly belonged, then, to the dynamic com- mercial publishing sector of the French economy. 82 The expansion of this sector, I have already argued, helped teach French elites to see their nation as a single, homogeneous territory, while at the same time revising the very definition of the nation, as publishers competed to sell readers an ever larger array of novel pieces of information about their new favorite subject: the French nation, a. k. a. themselves. Even more directly than the histories and pamphlets discussed in the previous two chapters, these books repre- sented, in the visions of France they put before the public, a response to commercial and political stimuli alike.
If commercial pressures helped expand the canon, however, they did not, in and of themselves, dictate where to look for new examples of great- ness. Here again, the biographers parted company with d'Angiviller and the Acade? mie. Both these quasi-official authorities, following Perrault's example, had included artists and writers in their canons of great men but kept them in a distinct minority (a third and a quarter, respectively) among the dominant statesmen, soldiers, and prelates. Their great men also came predominantly from the relatively recent past (more than half from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries), and fewer than a fifth had died within half a century of their selection. In short, these canons re- mained centered firmly on the absolutist state in its heyday. 83
Among the biographical works, two--Sergent's Portraits and the anony- mous Deeds and Heroic Actions--moved back from this focus towards an imagined Age of Chivalry. They chose overwhelmingly from the ranks of kings, queens, and noble military men (roughly two-thirds in Sergent,
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Figure 10. Bathilde, queen to France's seventh-century King Clovis II, was one of several medieval queens depicted in this expensive collection of colored engravings from Antoine-Franc? ois Sergent, Portraits des grands hommes, femmes illustres et sujets memorables de France, Paris, 1786.
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? nearly all in Deeds and Heroic Actions), and in each, more than half the fig- ures had died before, or within in a few years of, 1600. Both works, in fact, clearly belonged to the late eighteenth-century's rediscovery of the Middle Ages and medieval chivalry. 84 Both celebrated their subjects for great ac- tions rather than great inner qualities. The philosophes would have labeled these men and women illustrious, not great.
The rest of the late eighteenth-century collective biographies, those which did adopt the Enlightenment definition of "greatness," took almost precisely the opposite tack. Restout's 1771 French Gallery (started the year earlier by Jacques Gautier Dagoty) included just 12 princes, statesmen, and military leaders (and two of the latter had risen from the ranks of common soldiers). The other 26 came primarily from the world of learning, litera- ture, and the professions, and included not only painters and playwrights, but doctors, jurists, novelists, architects, and astronomers. 85 Furthermore, all the figures except King Louis XIII had lived in the late seventeenth or eighteenth centuries. Turpin's 1782 French Plutarch similarly chose its 118 men overwhelmingly from these modest social groups, and again, primar- ily from the eighteenth century. In his dedication (to Catherine the Great's Lord Chamberlain), Turpin wrote: "No, Prince, nature has not been ex- hausted by the productions of the centuries which have preceded us . . . What do we have to envy the centuries of Augustus, of Leo X, of Louis XIV, when our own has produced Voltaire, Buffon and Montesquieu? "86
The hundreds of great men profiled in the 1779 Tablets and Manuel's 1789 French Year omnivorously included nearly all the figures selected by d'Angiviller, the Acade? mie, and the previous collective biographies. Even so, in each case more than two-thirds of the total came from outside the ranks of kings, statesmen, and soldiers, and more than two-thirds had died within the past century. Manuel included architects, bankers, merchants, and even a few artisans. "I have missed no occasion," he wrote, "to honor the hands that till the earth and weave our clothes, the farmers and arti- sans, those to whom we owe our surpluses while lacking their own necessi- ties. "87 He had a particular fondness for poor scholars like Jean-Baptiste Ludot, whom he praised for jumping into the Seine in winter to see how long the human body could stand exposure to freezing water, and philan- thropic doctors like Augustin Roux, who devoted himself entirely to the rural poor. As we have seen, he also devoted several pages to that emblem- atic martyr of the modern French nation, Jumonville. 88
Manuel heightened the effect of raising these men, many of whom had
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Figure 11. The inclusion of the famous eighteenth-century Doctor Jean Astruc among the portraits in this collection illustrates the broadening of the canon of "great Frenchmen" in the decades before the French Revolution. Engraving from Restout, Galerie Franc? oise, ou Portraits des hommes et des femmes ce? le`bres qui ont paru en France (French Gallery, or Portraits of Famous Men and Women Who Have Lived in France), two vols. , Paris, 1771.
enjoyed little or no social recognition during their lives, to the ranks of the great by making the order of his French Year entirely random. The reader paging through late January, for instance, would come across the following sequence of men, appearing on an entirely equal footing: the geographer Guillaume de Lisle, the soldier Franc? ois de Chevert, the doctor Jean-Bap- tiste-Michel Bucquet, the clerical author Pierre Huet, the war minister Belle-Isle, and then, almost contemptuously, Charlemagne, greatest of French monarchs. 89 Given the loud criticism earlier authors had received
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? for not organizing great men by social rank, the reader would have had to be singularly obtuse not to grasp Manuel's ideological point. Clearly, the book of this journalistic hack par excellence, while not illegal, like many that came out of his milieu, nonetheless amounted to a weapon in a cul- tural battle aimed at a radical restructuring of France's historical canon. 90
Therefore, despite sharing much of the rhetoric of the Academy's e? loges--even blatantly plagiarizing them on occasion--Manuel's project in fact subverted them, as did most of the collective biographies of the last twenty years of the old regime. 91 Whereas the Academy and d'Angiviller, acting in a quasi-official capacity, presented historically distant, socially eminent subjects mostly linked to the service of the absolute monarchy, Manuel and his colleagues, acting in their own capacity and competing in a commercial marketplace, presented contemporary, ordinary civilians very much like the image the reading public of the late old regime was forming of itself: virtuous and meritorious heads of households who could offer just as great service to their patrie as any grandee. Furthermore, whereas the Academy and d'Angiviller presented a relatively stable canon, casting a shadow from the century of Louis XIV over the centuries to come, Manuel, Turpin, and the other biographers, with their claim that "nature has not been exhausted," implied, none too subtly, that true French greatness was still very much in the making. In short, whereas the cult of great men as a whole amounted to a public project of nation-forming within the symbolic space vacated by the retreat of organized religion, it nonetheless took two very different forms. For the orators of the Academy and for d'Angiviller, the nation was a project to be undertaken by the mo- narchical state under the banner of royal patriotism. For the biographers, it was a project that implicitly arose from within the public as a whole--not the entire population, to be sure, but the learned, largely middle-class pub- lic represented in their pages. In a sense, their work amounted less to a cult of great men, than to a cult of the public itself.
To the extent that the celebration of great men as a whole pointed for- ward to the Revolution, the quasi-official genres and the collective biogra- phies again did so in strikingly different ways. In this realm of national memory, as with the politics of sovereignty and with war propaganda, the Revolution marked an intensification and transfiguration of trends that had begun under the old regime. The successive authorities held up great lives as examples to the citizenry, from boy martyrs cut down in battle against counter-revolutionaries to assassinated leaders like Marat and Le Pelletier de Saint-Fargeau. 92 In September 1793, the National Convention
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Figure 12. The Pantheon, Paris. The former Church of Sainte-Genevie`ve was transformed during the French Revolution into a monument to (and final resting place for) "the great men of the Patrie. "
decided to establish, as its principal vehicle of civic and patriotic education for the masses, an official periodical entitled Collection of Heroic and Civic Actions of French Republicans, to be distributed to the armies and popular societies and used as mandatory texts in primary schools. The government sent out thousands of circulars requesting that incidents of patriotic hero- ism be reported to the periodical's editor, and hundreds of responses filtered back in. Five issues of the paper appeared before the fall of Robes- pierre in 1794, with print runs ranging from 80,000 to a spectacular 150,000. 93 In an equally important move, the Revolution took the newly built, gloomy neoclassical Church of Sainte-Genevie`ve, which lowered over much of the Left Bank of Paris, and expensively transformed it into a National Pantheon on the Roman model. Several reconsecrations and deconsecrations later, it again has this function today, complete with the eighteenth-century motto over its entrance: "Aux Grands Hommes la Patrie Reconnaissante" (To the Great Men, the Grateful Patrie).
This revolutionary cult of great men exhibited an intense concern for
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? history, in the sense that the revolutionaries saw themselves as the founders of a new history and strove anxiously to influence posterity's judgment of their achievements. 94 At the same time, they rejected the actual history of pre-1789 France almost entirely, and with few exceptions celebrated only titans and martyrs of the Revolution itself. Even the Pantheon welcomed only Voltaire and Rousseau among pre-revolutionary "great men. " The en- tire panoply of Frenchmen so rhapsodized over by old regime panegyrists, from Clovis and Charlemagne to Chevert and Jumonville, suffered a total eclipse, although the nineteenth century would again recover them for France's national memory. The doughty Franc? ois-Henri Turpin, author of more biographies than any other writer, made one last attempt in 1792 (at age 81) to publish a History of Illustrious Frenchmen from the Former Third Estate, which drew together eleven of his more humbly born historical subjects. But the book vanished without a trace. 95
As Mona Ozouf has cogently argued, the various revolutionary attempts to institute an official canon of great men, and particularly the Pantheon itself, for the most part proved crashing, embarrassing failures. The fac- tions in the successive assemblies could rarely agree on which figures de- served admittance, and even when they did, a great man interred in the crypt with great pomp one year often faced eviction the next, following some political shift that revealed him a traitor and criminal. This was the case with Mirabeau and also Marat. 96 Furthermore, from the very begin- ning of the Revolution, the radical left--led, ironically enough, by Marat himself--inveighed bitterly against the very idea of a national canon of greatness, as in the passage quoted at the start of this chapter. 97 The rather mournful, and carefully choreographed ceremonies of interment at the former Sainte-Genevie`ve contrasted sharply with the wild, spontaneous outpourings on behalf of Marat after his death at the hands of Charlotte Corday. The Club des Cordeliers invented rituals for Marat involving his heart, and (somewhat grotesquely) featuring the bathtub in which he had met his death as a sort of substitute crucifix, in the most emotional and bi- zarre public expression of religious passion in the city since the cult of the convulsionaries, sixty years earlier. 98
In the old regime cult of great men, it was the collective biographies which pointed most directly towards this revolutionary future. In their emphasis on men from the recent past, in their claim that "nature is not exhausted," and in their effective devaluation not only of kings, but of the entire quasi-official canon celebrated by the academy and d'Angiviller, they
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? anticipated the revolutionary rejection of the French past, and the ambi- tion of the revolutionaries to cast themselves as the protagonists of a new, more perfect history, in a nation that was consciously rebuilding itself. In their freewheeling celebration of whatever figures the authors thought might sell, they anticipated somewhat the spontaneity of radical revo- lutionary commemorations and the radicals' rejection of any official canon whatsoever. In their virtual canonization of men like Ludot and Jumonville, common men who sacrificed themselves for the patrie, they anticipated the revolutionary cult of martyrs and the transformation of men like Marat into virtual saints of the patrie. In sum, most of the cult of great men under the old regime, despite its distinct republican accents, re- mained constrained within a tradition which saw the nation embodied in the king, those who served him, and those whom he designated. The col- lective biographies, however, looked ahead to a revolutionary vision in which the nation was embodied, potentially, in every citizen; in which every citizen partook, potentially, of its sacred qualities.
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