What We Leave Behind

Christian Bush
Class of 2018

Perhaps the greatest strength of studying history is that there is no terminal point for the discipline. Every genre and subgenre merits greater inquiry, discourse, and learning. However, the greatest weakness of history is that we cannot know everything either – that is, even among the many narratives, facts, and people we have immortalized in stone and ink, we have to be selective in what we choose to popularize in the classroom and in our monuments. As I often say to my friend (and fellow scholar) Robert, “History is what we choose to leave behind."

This thought came to me a number of times when I visited France with my family over spring break. One of my side interests in history has been the French Revolution, and I looked forward to seeing some of the famous sights I had read and heard about. One of the most memorable of these sights was the Conciergerie – sometimes referred to as “the antechamber of death” on account of it housing prisoners doomed to be guillotined in the Place de la Révolution. Among the notable inhabitants were Marie Antoinette, Maximilien Robespierre, and Charlotte Corday. 

Today, the Conciergerie serves as a museum to the French Revolution, but I was struck by (in my opinion) the deliberate bias in the museum. In particular, a running timeline flashed “On July 13, 1793, a journalist and deputy, Marat, was assassinated by Charlotte Corday… Scared, some called for vengeance against the enemies of the people”. While this small anecdote probably means little to the average tourist, it’s worth mentioning that Jean-Paul Marat was a radical Jacobin printer who once remarked "five or six hundred heads cut off would have assured your repose, freedom and happiness." In short, Marat was a journalist in the way that Sweeney Todd was a barber. Charlotte Corday thought that killing this “man of blood” would end the waves of revolutionary executions, but her actions only preceded the Great Terror, which was the culmination of a deadly experiment in reshaping human society. In my opinion, by oversimplifying Marat’s role in the brutal excesses of the French Revolution, the curators have made an intentional effort to leave something behind.

With that said, I do believe that the Conciergerie does respectfully honor Marie Antoinette. The room that was once her cell has been converted into a chapel, and the room’s information panels and artifacts humanize a woman once called a “she-wolf” and vilified by the French people. This about-face from popular opinion at the time is a good example of history as a clarifying force that lends perspective. By presenting Marie Antoinette in a way that humanizes her beyond the vitriolic rhetoric of revolution, the curators have made an intentional decision to carry a piece of history that might have been left behind.

But perhaps the most interesting piece of history left behind is at the Place de la Concorde – formerly known as the Place de la Révolution. Though the guillotine was once erected in this plaza, few visitors would know it today. While I did not exactly expect to find people snapping pictures with selfie-sticks or hawking cheap souvenirs, I think part of me expected to at least find some marker or reminder of the French Revolution. Instead, later governments renamed the Place de la Révolution as a conciliatory gesture and unrelated monuments dominate the square.

While I do not fault the French for choosing not to highlight a dark part of their history, I think it does speak back to my original theory. As a matter, both of convenience and necessity, we cannot carry all of history with us. Historians can specialize and spend long hours studying the development of human civilization, but the common man only has limited time and experience in doing so. Therefore, the solemn responsibility of the teacher, historian, and curator will always consist of what we leave behind.    

Christian Bush, of Louisville, Ky., is a junior McConnell Scholar studying history, political science, and Asian Studies.