Citoyenne la traductrice jacobine

I want to see this movie and now it's too late. ;_____;

Granted, I have no idea if it's any good, and until now I didn't even know it existed, let alone that they were putting it on in Arras last weekend. But still, how can this film exist without my having seen it? The worst is, there are a lot of things I would like to see that I'm too late for - the Revolution, for one - but generally they're things it would have been impossible for me to see anyway (I can't exactly will myself to be born more than 200 years earlier), but this is different. Seeing this movie was temporally and spatially within my grasp and I didn't see it. Instead, I caught up on my reading. I can do that any time. Why, universe, why? D: D: D:

Requiescant in pace les Robespierristes. Not just the famous ones, and not just those who died 216 years ago today, but to all the victims of the Thermidorian reaction.

In related news, I decided that, since everyone is always citing it, it might be a good idea for me to take a break from the six books I'm currently reading to read Françoise Brunel's Thermidor. You know, in commemoration. I don't know if anyone else on my f-list has read it (I seem to remember maelicia saying she had, but I could be misremembering) but if anyone has, were you at all disappointed with it? Because I was.
 
First with the conclusion - obviously, all the really reactionary after-effects happened in Year III, but that doesn't really make Thermidor a  non-event. I've always seen Thermidor as the turning-point that allowed those later events to take place, and after reading Brunel, for lack of a better explanation, I still think that. It's not a new observation that the Revolutionary government wasn't dismantled the second Robespierre was executed, nor that dismantling the Revolutionary government was not the intention of really any of the Thermidorians. That doesn't on its own make Thermidor insignificant. Unless I'm missing something (which is always quite possible)...

Second, with Brunel's assertion that there was no conspiracy. I can see where she's coming from in terms of the seemingly improvised character of the whole thing, but her proofs aren't really that convincing to me. She's at her best with her explanation of why someone like Billaud-Varenne (who shared most of Robespierre's core beliefs) would become a Thermidorian, but that explanation alone doesn't suffice. Let's say for a moment that there was no conspiracy - an idea that the concerted shouts of "à bas le tyran" alone would seem to invalidate, and one that is certainly not disproven by the absence of someone like Fouché from the list of speakers on 9 Thermidor, open contestation not being Fouché's modus operandi (and this is assuming the procès-verbaux, which we know were fabricated after the fact, to be accurate) - in the absence of a conspiracy, the feelings of alienation of a couple of Billaud-Varennes, even coupled with the tensions between the two Committees over the police bureau are not enough in themselves to make Thermidor happen...

Unless, as Brunel's account leaves us to infer, Robespierre just enjoyed randomly sabotaging himself for no reason. And this is probably the single biggest problem I have with this book: I've never seen an account in which Robespierre is simultaneously so absent from, and yet responsible for, his own fall. Yes, I get that Brunel was probably trying to avoid the approach which sees Thermidor as nothing but the last chapter in a biography of Robespierre, to look at its larger implications, but if Robespierre's point of view isn't examined at all, his actions make no sense. So the explanation becomes: Thermidor happened because Robespierre alienated his colleagues. Which may well have been, at least in part, the case. But then, it seems to me, you need to pose certain questions: Why did he do this? Did he realize he was doing it? What is his justification for his conduct? Do what extent do we believe his justification? And so on. I realize she's writing a short work of only a little over a hundred pages, but Brunel poses none of these questions, questions which are, however, fundamental not just to understanding why Robespierre acted as he did, but also, at least potentially, to understanding the role of certain Thermidorians as well. I mean, if the latter's post-Thermidorian justifications, dubious as they are, can be used as a historical source, surely the former's can as well...?

And we get that, briefly. Too briefly: if all you get out of Robespierre's last speech is a vague feeling that he was suicidal, you've nailed one angle of it and missed a hundred others, it seems to me. With no other explanation offered, one is left to infer that Robespierre, feeling suicidal, deliberately alienated his colleagues, thus backing them into a corner where they had no choice but to turn on him. Mind, though I disagree with it, this might be a valid argument if it were actually ever made. In fact, however, it's not made, just implied, which means that it never has to be defended - and why should I, the reader, believe in an implied argument that even its own author doesn't bother to defend? Am I missing something?

No, seriously: am I missing something? Because it seems to make sense enough to everyone cites it. Is it just assumed that people are already familiar enough with Robespierre's point of view that they can fill that part in for themselves? Am I just not sophisticated enough to grasp Brunel's argument? (Yes, that's a genuine question, because to be honest, at the moment I feel rather more like an idiot than "ah-ha! I have spotted the holes in your argument!" *so confused*)

(And a happy belated birthday to maelicia, too, of course!) That is not, however, the principal point of this post. Rather it is to point out that several older issues of the AHRF are available on persee.fr, including this one from 1986, which points out a couple of things, for those of you who can't read the original:

1. Apparently the plaque dedicated to Robespierre in the Conciergerie was vandalized that year. D: It's since been replaced, obviously, but still. D: (One can't help imagining whoever did as someone who read some article by a revisionist and decided it was so scandalous that there should be a plaque dedicated to an Evil Bloodthirsty Tyrant (tm) that he had to take matters into his own hands...)

2. More helpfully, it solves the mystery regarding the Duplays' graves in Père Lachaise. I knew the other Duplays were supposed to be buried in Père Lachaise, and in the same division as Éléonore, but I wasn't sure where. Now I know that they were (logically enough) all buried in the same grave, despite what the marker says.

The notice also explains the weird modern tombstone--apparently it was put into place in 1985. Also, the article mentions three details about Éléonore herself, one of which confirms something I had read earlier, the other two of which confuse me somewhat. It does indeed seem that her full name was Marie-Éléonore (I'd say it's pretty obvious why that isn't mentioned more often), but the date of her death is here listed one day off from what I've read elsewhere, and so too her age when she died is a year more than it should be (25 July 1832 vs. 26 July 1832 and 65 vs. 64). I don't know quite what to make of it. Do they have other (better?) information than I do? Or is it just a typo...?

At any rate, the inscription the tombstone now bears is clearly not the one it was originally supposed to, if this notice is to be believed. It clearly reads, "Eléonore Duplay, 1768-1832" with possibly something else which is now illegible beneath, rather than "Duplay Marie-Eléonore, décédée le 25 juillet 1832, à l'âge de 65 ans" ("Duplay Marie-Eléonore, deceased 25 July 1832, at the age of 65").

Also, I am very annoyed that I can't go to the Archives nationales, especially since I found a book with a lot of specific information about when various people (the Duplays, Charlotte Robespierre, Couthon's family) were imprisoned post Thermidor (and where, and for how long, etc.) and which I would not ordinarily find trustworthy (see for yourself), but which, like few of its kind, actually cites archival sources. Still, I don't feel I can really trust the information coming from a source like that. I have to see for myself. And I can't. >.>;;

I should mention, too, that I'm going to be in Santa Fe for a few days, so all commenting and posting (and fic-writing) may have to cease during that time. But I'll be back Sunday, never fear.

Today marks the 215th anniversary of the deaths of Maximilien and Augustin Robespierre, Saint-Just, Couthon, Dumas, Fleuriot-Lescot, Hanriot, Lavalette, Payan, Jean-Claude Bernard, Charles-Jacques-Mathieu Bougon, Christophe Cochefer, Jean-Barnabé Dhazard, Jean-Étienne Forestier, Antoine Gency, Adrien-Nicolas Gobeau, Nicolas Guérin, Denis-Étienne Laurent, Jean-Marie Quenet, Antoine Simon, Nicolas-Joseph Vivier, and Jacques-Louis-Frédéric Wouarmé on the scaffold, and of Le Bas, by his own hand. Requiescant in pace.

With them died the Republic of the Rights of Man and Citizen, of justice and democracy, but not the dream behind it, as the song I am posting today in their honor, dating to the Directoire, attests:
 

Le Dix Thermidor

10 Thermidor

Ah ! pauvre peuple, adieu le siècle d’or,

N’attends plus que peine et misère :

Il est passé dès le dix thermidor,

Jour qu’on immola Robespierre.

Ah! Poor people, farewell golden age!

No longer expect anything but pain and poverty:

It has happened since 10 Thermidor,

The day they immolated Robespierre.

Quand il vivait, il allégeait nos maux,

Il avait toute notre estime :

Les décemvirs, pour perdre ce héros,

L’accusent de leur propre crime.

Ah ! pauvre peuple, adieu le siècle d’or…

While he lived, he lessened our ills,

He had all our esteem:

To destroy this hero, the decemvirs

Accuse him of their own crime.

Ah! Poor people, farewell golden age!

Commune, aussi, tu fus de leur complot,

Avec eux tu brisas le trône ;

Pour t’en punir, tu meurs sur l’échafaud,

Et c’est le Sénat qui l’ordonne.

Il nous ravit cet heureux siècle d’or

Et nous plonge dans la misère,

En égorgeant, aux jours de thermidor,

Nos magistrats et Robespierre.

Commune, you too were part of their plot,

With them you smashed the throne;

To punish you for it, you died on the scaffold,

And on the Senate’s orders!

It takes that happy golden age from us

And plunges us into poverty,

By cutting the throats of our magistrates

And Robespierre in the days of Thermidor.

Républicains qui, dans ces jours d’horreur,

Sûtes échapper au carnage,

Rallions-nous et, d’une même ardeur,

Jurons de venger tant d’outrages.

Reconquérons notre heureux siècle d’or,

Exécrons celui de misère ;

Vengeons la France, et du dix thermidor,

Et de la mort de Robespierre.

Republicans who, in those days of horror,

Were able to escape the carnage,

Let us rally, and with equal ardor,

Let us swear to avenge so many outrages.

Let us win back our happy golden age,

Let us execrate that of poverty;

Let us avenge France, and 10 Thermidor,

And the death of Robespierre.

I won't bother posting this in the original French, since that's already available in several places on the internet, but here are Robespierre's thoughts on the question of citizenship for Jews, as articulated in the Constituent Assembly on 23 December 1789:

 

"How is it that the persecutions of which they have been the victims among different peoples have been used to oppose the Jews? These are, on the contrary, national crimes that we must expiate by returning to them the imprescriptible rights of man, of which no human power could despoil them. Vices and prejudices are yet imputed to them; sectarian spirit and interest exaggerate them, but to what could we impute them, if not to our own injustices? After having excluded them from every honor, even from the rights to public esteem, we have left them only the objects of lucrative speculations? Return them to happiness, to the patrie, to virtue, by returning to them the dignity of men and citizens; let us consider that it can never be politic, whatever might be said, to condemn a multitude of men who live among us to degradation and oppression. How could the social interest be founded on the violation of the eternal principles of justice and reason, which are the bases of all human society?"

....I'm going to kill something, I swear. I had a lovely entry all written about how I finished my essay (12 pages, after some fiddling with the margins, and 4,263 words) on Jews in the Revolution, and livejournal decided to eat it. D:<

I remain amused that I managed to use more sources (15, in all) than I wrote pages, and that I had 58 footnotes. How I do love you, footnotes! Let's run away together! ...or maybe not. XD

I also remain miffed that I didn't have enough space to talk about the Jewish National Guard who saved the Abbé Maury (opponent of civil and legal rights for Jews and all around rabid reactionary, for those not in the know) from being lanterned. Or the brothers Frey, for that matter. Oh well, more's the pity.

(I did, however, get to talk about how much Maxime pwns on two separate occasions. :D :D :D)

...And now, off to study for my Latin final. >.>

So I have a few fun translation related things to share with you. ^__^ No, of course I'm not procrastinating on writing the paper I have due tomorrow or the laundry I have to do before trf_chan  gets here. Why do you ask? >.>

The first is, I was in a translation symposium here at school on Tuesday, and I thought some of you might appreciate the poem I translated, as it's by Victor Hugo and has Revolutionary themes.

Gah, I have a feeling I'm going to have a problem with formatting with that. Try to ignore it if it's strange, will you?

Next, while looking for a decent analysis of how the Revolutionaries related to Antiquity (I'm sure I've seen some books on the topic--off the top of your head, do any of you know of any good ones?), I found this little gem in a footnote to a collection of Robespierre's speeches from the 1880s. It almost makes me understand what people see in Camille. Almost. XD;

"Ce discours prononcé aux Jacobins provoqua un vif enthousiasme : 'Qui pourrait ne pas partarger [sic] la sainte indignation que Robespierre fit éclater aux Jacobins dans un discours admirable ?' s'écrie Camille Desmoulins dans les Révolutions de France et de Brabant. Ce discours fut aussitôt publié en brochure, et voici en quels termes l'annonce le même Camille Desmoulins: 'Discours sur l'organisation des gardes nationales, par Maximilien Robespierre (et non pas Robertspierre, comme affectent de le nommer des journalistes qui trouvent apparemment ce dernier nom plus noble et plus moelleux, et qui ignorent que ce député, quand même il se nommerait la bête comme Brutus, ou pois chiche comme Cicéron, porterait toujours le plus beau nom de la France.'"

"This speech provoked a keen enthousiasm when pronounced at the Jacobins: 'Who could not share the sacred indignation that Robespierre made to burst forth at the Jacobins in an admirable speech?' cries Camille Desmoulins in the Revolutions of France and Brabant. This speech was immediately published in pamphlet form, and here are the terms in which the same Camille Desmoulins announces it: 'Discourse on the Organization of the National Guards, by Maximilien Robespierre (and not Robertspierre, as journalists affect to name him who apparently find this last name nobler and more smooth, and who are unaware that this deputy, were he even to call himself the dim-witted, like Brutus, or chickpea, like Cicero, would still bear the finest name in France.'"

...Well, it at least has the merit of amusing me greatly.

Lastly, whilst I wait to decide whether or not I can like the historical Romans, I can at least enjoy the 18th century conception of them. And now you can too! (:D?) Because I've decided to post my translations of Marie-Joseph Chénier's "Brutus et Cassius, ou les derniers Romains" ("Brutus and Cassius, or the Last Romans") here, scene by scene. Unfortunately, this was never performed, but it's still a primary source from the Revolution, and though I know in many, if not most, circles it's considered sacrilege to say such a thing, I personally think it's an improvement on Shakespeare's version of the same events.

A couple of notes, before I post the beginning of the play itself:

1. The original can be found here, page 183.
2. If I've mistranslated the Latin quote introducing the piece, someone please correct me. I've only been studying Latin since January, after all.
3. You'll notice I've largely omitted Marie-Joseph's message to André. Why? While I'm sure it's fascinating (and I'm not saying that facetiously), it's longer than the play itself. If anyone who can't read French is dying to know what it says, I'd be happy to translate it as well, but I figure it's the play that's most important.