The Memory of Rebellion (Lyon, 1529)

From Firenze University Press Journal: Journal of Early Modern Studies (JEMS)

Anne Béroujon, Université Grenoble Alpes

As is well known, the history of popular rebellions in the early modern period is rarely written from the point of view of the rebels. The very term ‘rebellion’ marks its failure, its disqualification by the victors. Many historians have noted the selective process conducted after the fact, as the dominant viewpoint of the flouted authorities rectified, simplified and impoverished what should not have happened: the plot is then reduced to that of a lowly people who, in the heat of the moment, were dragged along by a few leaders who reawakened their old demons (antifiscal, frumentary, political or religious). The insurgents only leave minute traces, which are difficult to track down. The memory of their revolt is written outside of them, and they are doubly dispossessed of it: because they failed and because their movement is normalised. It is therefore through the study of a repertoire of recurrent actions (Thompson 1988; Bercé 1986), reported gestures and words (Farge 1992) and the notations of traumatised elites (Scott 1990) that we can find the complexity of the meanings of the riot. As for the ‘alternative memories’ (Wood 2007, 244), those running counter to the official account of the rebellion, they are apprehended in bits and pieces, through oral transmission over time (Joutard 1977) or during new insurrectionary episodes where models or counter-models, key notions, names and symbols re-emerge (Wood 2007).In this article I will focus on one revolt in particular: the Grande Rebeyne of Lyon. Firstly because it frightened the powers more than others, as can be seen from the significance of the material in the archives and the stories it generated, both immediately and afterwards. But, above all, because it was preceded by placards giving the reasons for the discontent, in particular poor grain management, and called for an uprising. Yet, though the riot has been studied extensively by historians (Gascon 1961; Bayard and Cayez 1990; Chopelin and Souriac 2019), the placardshave been neglected and, before the nineteenth century, completely ignored.2 Why were these posters obscured for so long? What message did they convey? Did this writing nurture a local culture of revolt? Lyon, Sunday 25 April 1529: a thousand people gathered in the Place des Cordeliers, rang the convent’s tocsin, rampaged through the surrounding streets and looted the houses of the rich. The following day, a granary in the town, where the reserve grain was stored, was targeted. On the third day, the rioters went to Ile Barbe, on the edge of the city, where there were abundant supplies of grain. Then came the repression, which was very harsh: hangings, galleys, banishments, whippings and ladders for those accused of being part of the rebellion. It was a long process: the search for the culprits lasted until at least 1531. In recording the event in the consular registers, the town clerk noted that it all started with posters: ‘Le dimenche vingt cinquiesme avril mil cinq cens vingt neuf apres pasques … Est assavoir que la sepmaine precedent ledit dimenche plusieurs placartz furent trouvez affigez en plusieurs carrefours d’icelle ville’.3 He then copied the text, before beginning the story of the revolt. Although the original documents have not been preserved, this careful copy is available: initially ephemeral, the writing was thus perpetuated and entered registers designed to uphold the honour of the magistrates. Is its content so unusual that it should be recorded? It is known that posters, Flugschriften (flying sheets), pamphlets and flyers spread throughout Europe, even before Luther and even more so after him, in support of dissenting ideas (Lecuppre-Desjardins 2010; Cohn 2014; Deschamp 2016): in the Holy Roman Empire alone, there were the Bundschuh uprisings (1493–1517), the unrest over the Lutheran cause (1517–1521), the iconoclastic crises (1521–1522), the Palatinate knights’ mutiny (1522–1523), the Peasants’ War (1524–1525) and its 12-article manifesto (Hoyer 1979). But the planning of a riot by clandestine posting to the entire urban population is more rarely attested.4It is on the making of these placardsthat I will first focus, by studying their verbal semantics and visual grammar, as well as the context of reception. A series of distinct acts must be considered (Fraenkel 2006): writing (for which we can assume several versions prior to the drafting of the final text); handwritten or printed copy; display; reading and recopying. Which act was decisive? For whom? In what way did the time lag between one act and another play a role and modify the perception of the written word by the author(s)/the authorities/the population? I intend to show that the posters triggered not only what the political elites called ‘emotion’, a term generally used to designate popular sedition (irrational disturbance) but whose relevance is particularly questionable here given that the revolt was preannounced and argued for, but also a series of actions that began before the riot. A further question concerns the identity of the author(s) concealed behind the anonymity of the signatory, ‘Le povre’ (The poor). Although the purpose of the posters pertains to a widely shared political culture, did the placards emanate from the common people? I will also show that these combative writings were linked to others which preceded and followed them. Even if they were undoubtedly a massive shock for the councillors in charge of the city, these insurrectionary placardsdid not arrive out of the blue: it is possible to situate them within a chain of writings stretching over thirty years, but also to link them to words that the common people allowed themselves to utter, ‘hidden transcripts’ (Scott 1990), the sources of which were unveiled for a moment in time. Finally, I will study the reasons for their disappearance from local histories half a century after the event. To conclude, the effects on urban space (Castillo Gómez 2006) will be examined: what impact could the choice of the display mode have had, was there a reclaiming of the lost space by the authorities, and beyond that, can two information systems be pitted against each other?I will not study a large number of manifestations of exposed writings, as I have done in part in other publications (Béroujon 2009). Instead, I seek here, on the basis of one case and its relation to others, to contribute to a history of the materiality of the written word and its meticulous contextualisation, in order to identify the effects of an object in terms of political and social history (Jouhaud and Viala 2002).

DOI: https://doi.org/10.36253/jems-2279-7149-15293

Read Full Text: https://oajournals.fupress.net/index.php/bsfm-jems/article/view/15293