All hands bury the dead.
It’s Memorial Day weekend, and although I have enjoyed more than my fair share of bonus days off, I still am grateful for this particular long weekend. I appreciate the fact that that the end of May brings focus onto those who gave so much of themselves in defense of our great country.
An American in Paris to visit the French who did more than just visit in America.
I happen to be spending this weekend in France. It’s one of my favorite countries, and I have been dividing my time between causing trouble and revisiting my experiences as a teenager here. I still feel just the same, and the cafe waiters are still calling me “mademoiselle”. I can’t tell whether this title is deliberate flattery or if I still look like a ratty exchange student. Either way I don’t really care.
Bon bref: in honor of this American holiday, I thought that it would be fitting if I paid a call to a seldom touristed place in Paris: Picpus Cemetery. I’ve been wanting to come here for some time, but it never seems to be a spot that is factored into my visits. Perhaps I was just waiting for the appropriate moment.
Not exactly marked with any signs alerting American tourists of its significance, Picpus can be a little tricky to spot. This guy stood in front for a good few minutes and seemed to wonder, “What’s in here?”
Picpus is the final resting place of over a thousand French aristocrats and commoners who lost their heads to the guillotine during the French Revolution. While that’s all nice and interesting from a French historical standpoint, that’s not why I went. The Marquis de Lafayette, as it turns out, is also buried in this small private cemetery.
This place is nothing like the big hitting graveyards of Paris like Père-Lachaise. Without some prior detective work, it’s hard to know that there’s much of anything in here.
Your first indication that you are going the right way.
The Marquis de Lafayette. “Who’s that again?” you might be asking yourself. That’s certainly the question I posed when I first heard his name uttered in France. Here’s a quick snapshot of that moment in 1993:
My Dad was in Grenoble visiting his subversive exchange student daughter, and we were out to dinner with my third host family. In between them correcting me for using my own knife to cut on the cheese board, my dad was making a far better impression than I ever would.
“The French and the Americans have been great friends for centuries,” he opened the conversation, “starting way back at our nation’s birth with the Marquis de Lafayette.”
“Yes! This is true!” they nodded enthusiastically. I myself was busy cutting lettuce with my knife – another infraction that this family would soon correct – as I wondered about this French Marquis. The name rang a bell, but that was about all I could say on the subject.
Thanks to the modest paper map I receive at the front gate, I am assured that a cemetery is back here somewhere.
The Marquis de Lafayette was a French-born military officer and aristocrat who came over to the Colonies to support the fight against the British. A bit of a troublemaker, he was forbidden by the king to leave France and join the American Revolution, but he left anyway. Disguised as a woman and using his own funds to acquire a sailing ship, he arrived in South Carolina in 1777. Lafayette was aligned with General Washington through the recommendation of Benjamin Franklin, and he set upon serving in the army without pay to support “the rights of man”.
Still walking the grounds towards the cemetery and enjoying the tranquility. I will say that this is one of the most peaceful places in the city.
At last the entrance.
This place is pretty tiny, and as soon as I step inside I’m scanning for some sign of a headstone with distinguishing marks. If there is one. Looking sharp, you can spot at the very back and right-hand corner of the cemetery an unassuming swath of red white and blue.
Once you finally spy the flag, it kind of takes your breath away.
All of you were probably superior students of U.S. history, so I don’t need to give you Wikipedia’s account of Lafayette. If you’re really to lazy to click on this link, I can tell you that Lafayette played a crucial role in numerous battles during the American Revolution. My Dad was right, he was equally instrumental in strengthening the alliance between the U.S. and France; his returns to Paris painted him as a hero and he was thus able to secure numerous critical French reinforcements (who, by the way, were more than happy to fight against the British). His actions made him just as American as he was distinctly French.
Here he is, buried next to his wife and under soil from the United States. Since World War I, every year on our Independence Day this flag is replaced in a joint Franco-American ceremony.
Lafayette died in Paris in 1834, but then President Jackson ordered that he be given the same military honors as George Washington. Twenty-four gun salutes were fired (each shot representing a U.S. state), and flags flew at half mast for thirty-five days. Unlike the cemetery where he lays, Lafayette was never allowed to fade into the background noise of history.
Over the centuries there have been many plaques affixed near the grave by various associations in America. I am told that more American tourists visit this cemetery than French.
Lafayette’s neighbors: notable guillotine victims during the Reign of Terror in 1794. The plaque with flowers marks the death of a French poet, and you can read that he “died for the truth”. I imagine if this place could talk, you wouldn’t believe what these people lived and died through.
And honestly I would be remiss if I didn’t show you the two mass graves that lie just beyond Lafayette’s grave. These two pits were dug at the end of a garden so that decapitated bodies fresh from the guillotine could be quickly disposed of and hopefully forgotten. There are over 1100 people buried here.
So there you have my modest contribution to this weekend’s reason for barbecues and beer drinking. Even if I came to this place looking like a hastily-assembled college kid who would probably never be mistaken for an officer in the United States Navy, I felt extremely humbled to stand in the presence of someone so important, on such a significant holiday for Americans. I also appreciate that I am currently participating in a military education program that sends officers abroad to increase our understanding and relationships with foreign partners- because history has shown how critical these alliances really are.
Happy Memorial Day tout le monde. Especially those of you who are out there right now- down range and standing watch so that I could take the time to visit this hallowed spot. We really are a great country.