‘Narrative’ is at the heart of whatever history is, but history needs a material presence to quite literally give substance to these stories and ‘anchor’ them to the world. How else could those in the present know that some Flanders’ field is not just a field, but also the site of some important battle in 1916? There are different ways through which ‘material history’ projects historical narrative into the present. During my honeymoon in France in September 2023 I had the pleasure to visit a number of ‘past spaces’ that project history via different dimensions: Historicality, historicity and authenticity of place.
THE MONUMENTAL VERSUS THE HISTORICAL
In common parlance there is often little difference between ‘historical’ and ‘monumental’ and any real distinction seems largely semantic. For example, the Dutch Rijksdienst voor het Cultureel Erfgoed (RCE, “Cultural Heritage Agency of the Netherlands”) defines ‘a monument’ as any human-made object listed on the Monumentenregister. The only real criterium for inclusion on the register is ‘cultural-historical importance’. I’ll be slightly more critical than the RCE by insisting on a distinction between ‘historical’ and ‘monumental’. By and large and with full acknowledgement that edge cases exist: A monument is metaphorical, and it transfers meaning from the past into the present. The Berlin Holocaust Memorial represents the memory of the millions of Jews murdered by the Nazi’s between 1933 and 1945. A historical place is metonymical – a still remaining part of a greater whole (the past) that is otherwise gone forever. The Berlin Holocaust Memorial is a monument, but not necessarily a historical place, because its location has little direct relation to the topic it represents. See Eelco Runia’s 2006 article ‘Presence’ that got academic discussion started on this topic.
HISTORICALITY
The extremely subjective quality of ‘historical significance’ and how a place or space relates to it: Some important event happened in this space, someone involved in something important lived here. This relationship between the ‘something’ that is of historical importance and the space or place (from hereon I’ll use either interchangeably) might be strong or tenuous (e.g. ‘the ‘Japanese Instrument of Surrender was signed here in 1945, ending World War II’, ‘the place where Vincent van Gogh lived and worked for a couple of months in 1883/1884’), but the place itself is seldomly ‘stuck’ in the time of its historicality, being utilized for some purpose or another afterwards until the transcedent quality of ‘historical significance’ is made superior to the place’s practical, mundane qualities.
The author at Château de Bazoches, (location) https://maps.app.goo.gl/rDWJJpJ9VH9WtFMR8, (website), http://www.chateau-bazoches.com/
One such example I visited during my vacation is Château de Bazoches, formerly a castle and a palace, most famously owned and lived in by Sébastien Le Prestre de Vauban – or simply Vauban – the chief engineer and Maréchal de France of Louis XIV. The château is still a private residence – this will be relevant later – with a substantial part of it being open to the paying public. It is well worth a visit if you’re in this general area of France. I am not an architectural aficionado – but the towers, understated facade and the ramparts delineating the chateau’s garden from the surrounding area betray, or at least suggest, a once-had-but-since-lost military utility. As a private collection the antiques and art objects – especially the libraries – are interesting enough for a visit, but what interests me is how these are used to represent a specific history of Bazoches.
What makes Château de Bazoches historical? Vauban. Earlier in 2023 I read a biography of Louis XIV and Vauban is one of the more prominent of Louis’ extended cast of characters. My middling interest in Vauban was the decisive reason for picking this château over any other château as the destination for our daily roadtrip through beautiful Bourgogne-Franche-Comté. Vauban lived from 1633 to 1707, and about thirty of those years were spent at Bazoches. The castle’s history – or at least the history of a fortified structure at that specific site – stretches over 800 years. But both the official website and the château’s entry on Wikipedia suggest only 4% of that time is what makes the place historical.
The château’s English Wikipedia-page, per 5th February 2024. Four paragraphs of history. The Roman conquest of Gaul to the Hundred Years’ War covers one. The second paragraph reduces the subsequent 300 years to a list of dynasties. The third paragraph informs the reader of Vauban’s purchase. The next 350 years of history up to the present are left out. The French version of the article isn’t much better.
It’s not just the written material. The visit guides you through a multitude of rooms – again, the libraries come recommended – among which are “Vauban’s bedroom” and “Vauban’s study”. What struck me most in “his” bedroom was seeing portraits of Vauban’s royal patron Louis XIV and the king’s brother “Monsieur” Philippe hanging on the wall. You are standing in what is presented to be Vauban’s bedroom. This specific room might have been the man’s bedroom. I personally have no way to know (and less interest in decisively finding out) whether it was or wasn’t. But the factuality of the matter is less important than the suggestion that this room is, and always has been Vauban’s bedroom. Are we really to believe that nobody in the 300 years since Vauban’s death changed the bed or at least the damned paintings? Of course not. But the person of Vauban – and his close association with the regime of the Sun King – is what makes this room different from another château’s bedroom. This room – and at most a few others – are where this military engineer fucked. And that’s why it is historically sigificant.
HISTORICITY
A view of Guedélon, photo by me. (location) https://maps.app.goo.gl/diGGFBzfajN2JFmKA, (website) Guédelon – Nous bâtissons un château fort (guedelon.fr)
I have wanted to visit Guedélon Castle for years. It was the only place I absolutely, definitely, uncompromisingly wanted to visit during our vacation through France. Guedélon is archaeological and historical ‘edutainment’ of the highest class. In a place where nothing of historical significance ever happened, a place without historicality, they are building a mid-13th century castle using mid-13th century techniques with all building material sourced locally and manufactured on-site. A “village” sprung up in the area around the castle consisting of the specific workshops where the craftsmen prepare the clay bricks, work the wood, weave the baskets used to transport resources and (semi-)finished products to and fro; all wearing – presumably – era-appropriate clothing.
This is the historicity of Guedélon. Since there never was a castle at Guedélon, the historical dimension is the attempt to recreate the context and practice of 13th century castle construction. Where Bazoches’ recreation of Vauban’s bedroom require the visitor’s active imagination, Guedélon does not ask for this kind of participation. This is how they built a castle in 1245 and you can see it with your own eyes in the 21st century. The fulfillment of Von Ranke’s promise: This is how it really was. Or, rather, how it essentially was.
But there are limitations to this claim of historicity. Some imposed by external forces and some self-imposed, but all of them because the context of the 13th century dissipates in the realities of the 21st. The “village” that sprung up to support construction contains no homes because the workers are not serfs and get to go home at the end of the day. Safety nets secure the scaffolding and the stonemasons wear safety goggles. Contemporary safety laws and standards do apply. Information signs explain the form and function of a room or workshop – something that would have been self-evident to 13th century people – while the workshops themselves are partially open to allow visitors to better observe the craftsmen at work. Above all, you can enjoy a cold draught beer and a sandwich while watching the site.
Pictured: 13th century scaffolding adhering to 21th century safety standards and ‘open plan’ medieval workshops and authentic information signs.
Guedélon is something of a historical spectacle. An actual castle rises from the land – pure and untainted by any subsequent history. It is ‘hyperhistorical’ in the sense that it simultaneously exists out of history and within the boundaries of a specific point in time. If Bazoches cannot just be Vauban’s residence because it was utilized long before and after him, than Guedélon cannot be a real 13th century castle because it never functionally served as one. It is not and never will be the seat of a seigneur who lives there, who rules the fiefdom and administers the king’s justice.
It is also a really cool place to visit and the very thing ten year old me hoped any castle we visited would be: Stuck in the time it signifies most precisely. A clear view on what once was. Something ‘‘authentic’. More real and “pure” because it is unaffected by later context, iteration or subsequent utilization. Historical authenticity, however…
AUTHENTICITY
Pictured: What remains of a 13th century gate and part of my wife, because I am a terrible photographer. Pierre Perthuis, (location) https://maps.app.goo.gl/CLYcuRdYXhWZBFdQA
…is incompatible with the ‘new’. There is no such thing as a new and authentic castle. ‘Authenticity’ is an essentially contested concept in that it either means nothing (e.g. every mass produced, mass consumed product marketed as ‘authentic’) yet still conjures up a meaning of a ‘purity’ that has long been lost. It’s the difference between ‘mass production tomato soup’ and ‘mass production tomato that somehow, somewhere involves elderly Italian nonnas’.
Back to France! When you are done wondering whether (the portraits of) Louis and Philippe have been witness to 300 years of fucking in “Vauban’s bedroom” you might want to turn your touristy attention to Vezélay (a village brimming with historicality and historicity in itself). The road from Bazoches to Vezélay meanders along the river Cure and will eventually bring you to the tiny hamlet of Pierre-Perthuis. It offers multiple picturesque sights that we would have all taken in had our stop not been interrupted by heavy rains. Our visit was long enough to walk past (obviously not ’through’) the remains of a 13th century gate.
Bazoches served a purpose before and after its most famous owner lived there. Guedélon never served – and never will serve – the purpose of a medieval castle. Both structures are (still) utilized as a museum and home, as edutainment. The little ruined gate at Pierre-Perthuis just is. It has not kept unwanted visitors out in centuries. A last remaining part of a long-lost past. It is a 13th century construction in the way Guedélon is not – it was then and there and it, at least functionally, stayed there. For as far as I am aware nothing of historical importance happened at Pierre-Perthuis, but the past is still here in relatively untouched form – reminding the visitor of a different time in this one specific place.
Geef een reactie