The most appropriate reference point for situating Saint Leonard de Noblat isn’t a point but a line, that of the major medieval pilgrimage route from Vezelay, in Burgundy, to the relics of Saint James in Compostela, Spain. Follow it on foot, as a pilgrim did/does, proceeding at a steady pace of 14 miles (23 km) per day, and you’ll arrive in Saint Leonard de Noblat after a month or so, with another eight weeks to go before Compostela. With that as your line of reference, here’s the map to situate you.

That line, that pilgrimage along the Way of Saint James (Camino de Santiago), and more specifically the relics of Saint Leonard along the Way, is what earned Saint Leonard de Noblat a significant dot on the map.

My own approach was by car from Aubusson, of tapestry fame, 41 miles (66km) to the east. Courtney Withrow approached from Limoges, 13 miles (21km) to the west. We meet here in this 2-part article, where, in this part, I give an overview of town and its development and where, in the second part, Courtney tells of its 500-year-old paper mill Le Moulin du Got.

Doubly present on the UNESCO World Heritage List

So let’s forget for a moment that Saint Leonard de Noblat is well off the beaten path for most travelers. Instead, we’ll return to a time and a place where it was very much on the path of pilgrims. Thanks to that path, this town of 4500, whose historic center is preserved in its stone simplicity, is doubly present on the UNESCO World Heritage List:

– Tangibly, for its collegiate church that was a part of a dense constellation of medieval structures in France along the Way of Saint James;

– Intangibly, as part of religious processions and ceremonies known as Limousin Septennial Ostensions, organized every seven years to present and worship the relics of saints held in the region. (An ostension is a presentation of relics.) About 20 towns in the region—most within 25 miles of Limoges, along with several outliers—band together during the Ostensions to “translate” or move their local relics from town to town through the septennial year. The next Ostensions will take place in 2023.

Leonard, patron saint of prisoners

Nobiliacum (which morphed into Noblac and Noblat) was the name of the village overlooking the Vienne River that existed here in the Dark Ages before becoming fully associated with Saint Leonard through the veneration of his relics during the Middle Ages. Saint Leonard’s life story was written in 1030, nearly 500 years after his death, so it’s as much legend as biography. As word of it spread so did the appeal of visiting his relics and perhaps benefiting from their healing powers.

As the story goes, Leonard was born into aristocracy in the late 5th century during the time of Clovis, King of the Franks. Like Clovis, he was baptized by Saint Remi in Reims, with Clovis himself as his godfather. Become a pious adult, Leonard was given by Clovis the right to release prisoners that Leonard felt worthy of amnesty, hence his status as the patron saint of prisoners. Effigies of the saint present him holding shackles and/or chains, perhaps also with a fleur de lys to symbolize his royal connection. Leonard eventually chose to live as a hermit in the forest by the crossroads that would become Nobiliacum and that would eventually also bear his own name. Hermits took part in evangelizing a region by setting up shop in the forest near well-traveled roads. Miracles followed.

At the turn of the millennium, word was spreading throughout the region and beyond of the miraculous healing powers of a procession of the relics of Saint Martial of Limoges during an epidemic of ergot poisoning, an epidemic caused by grain infected with certain fungi that would strike the Limousin region. As the biography of Saint Leonard gained ground during the second half of the 11th century, other miracles of relief or cure would then be attributed to a procession of his relics, giving further credence to the power of ostensions. Funding from passing pilgrims and from feudal powers contributed to the creation of many churches through the 11th and 12th centuries along the pilgrimage routes of central and southwest France. The mostly Romanesque collegiate church of Saint Leonard de Noblat was a part of that movement. Today, still, it houses the saint’s relics, particularly his skull.

Massepain, the local pastry

Pilgrimages are intended to provide spiritual strength, but long-distance pilgrims, in addition to having sore feet, often had difficulties being suitably nourished. Two 13th-century entrances to a former pilgrim’s hospital still visible in town attest to the physical suffering of pilgrims.

My own visit to Saint Leonard de Noblat knew no suffering. In fact, while I spent some time visiting the old stones and the old bones of Saint Leonard de Noblat, my first encounter with the history of the pilgrimage to and through town came in the form of a pastry called massepain.

Actually, my first encounter wasn’t with a massepain but with Frédéric Rougerie, a founding member and master of ceremonies of the Confrérie des Compagnons de Massepain de Saint Leonard de Noblat, the order or brotherhood that protects and promotes traditional Saint Leonard massepain. Meeting me in the kitchen at Maison Coignac (22 Avenue du Maréchal Foch), a family-run pastry shop and bakery, one of many shops in town making massepain, he greeted me in full brotherhood regalia: a brown cape, the color of the full almonds that go into the pastry (and of Limousin cows); a neck baldric meeting at a patch of Limousin leather on which is attached, in locally-made Limoges porcelain, a reproduction of a massepain bearing the image of the arms of Saint Leonard; a large broach indicating an affiliation with other Limousin brotherhoods, and a pastry chef’s hat.

Calling massepain a pastry makes it sound fancier than it truly is. It’s simply a soft, dry, rustic biscuit made of three ingredients: almonds, egg whites and sugar. I resist translating massepain as marzipan since that risks calling to mind dense almond paste that’s often molded into animal-shaped confections. Marzipan it may be, but this one is so particular to Saint Leonard that it’s best to call it by its French name. Saint Leonard de Noblat is also known as the City of Massepain.

For pilgrims traveling on a poor diet of water, cabbage leaves and some root vegetables, almond-based biscuits were, says Rougerie, the equivalent of a high-protein sports bars. Almonds grow along the Mediterranean basin, so almonds and almond-based confections were known to southern travelers. However, the traditional recipe of the massepain of Saint Leonard practiced today wasn’t developed until 1899, when the local pastry maker Camille Petitjean learned a similar recipe from a Swiss monk who was passing through on the pilgrimage route. Petitjean sold them in town and in surrounding villages, and massepains soon became a staple of the sweet and rustic life in and around Saint Leonard.

Three ingredients go into the traditional Saint Leonard massepain: almonds (the full almond which is then finely crushed), egg whites (unbeaten) and sugar (caster). Despite its Mediterranean roots, the United States is currently the world’s largest almond producer, so many a Saint Leonard massepain likely contain California almonds. By its ingredients, the massepain is cousin to the Parisian macaroon, but it’s very much a country cousin. The macaroon doesn’t use the full almond fruit, its egg white is beaten, and its sugar is powdered, making it suitable for a highfalutin pilgrimage to Paris but not to Saint Leonard de Noblat.

Pilgrims make up only a tiny part of the clientele for massepain. The bulk is consumed by, well, everyone living in or passing through the region. Massepains can be enjoyed at aperitif-time with, say, a glass of pink champagne if you want to go upmarket with your downmarket pastry, in the afternoon with coffee or tea, even by a teething toddler. You name it, the simple yet versatile massapain can have its place.

Come mealtime, however, the traveler to the region inevitably opts for a hearty sit-down meal that may be inspired by the farmland of Saint Leonard de Noblat and the surrounding Limousin region, where you’ll see Limousin cattle, as well as Limousin lamb and Black Bottom pigs. Chestnuts and Limousin apples are also grown in the region.

Porcelain, Paper and Leather

While Saint Leonard now putters along as a largely off-track town in 21st century France, it maintains its attachment not only to its pilgrimage prosperity during the Middle Ages but also to its substantial period of prosperity as a hub for artisanal activity during the 17th and 18th centuries.

To understand the artisanal prosperity, your reference map would show the rivers running through the region, in particularly the Vienne River, which lent its name to the department or sub-region called Haute-Vienne or Upper Vienne. (Saint Leonard and Limoges are far upstream along the Vienne. Further downstream, the river makes a sharp turn north and eventually flows into the Loire River near Saumur.) The quality of its water and that of its small tributaries at this stage of its course encouraged the development two types of water-dependent manufacturing complexes: tanneries, treating hides for leather goods, and papermills. The Vienne also played a role in the development of the porcelain industry in and around Limoges.

Tanneries: By the 19th century there were about 20 sites for tanning hides in the area. The only one now in operation is Tannerie Bastin & Fils. Bastin is a 200-year-old tanner that opened the functioning Moulin Follet (Follet Mill) site in 1892 and has been owned by J.M. Weston since 1981. Weston, based in Limoges, uses leather made here for shoe soles.

Papermills: There were also some 20 paper producers in the heyday of artisanal paper production in the Saint Leonard area in the 18th century. Again, only one remains, the Moulin du Got, which Courtney Withrow tells about in the second part of this article.

Porcelain: Fine bone china and hard-paste porcelain considered “Limoges” isn’t only made in the city of Limoges or by a single producer but by artisans and industry throughout the region who have access to the proper clay within the production zone.

The region was actually known for centuries for its enamel production prior to gaining an international reputation for its porcelain in the early 18th century. In Saint Leonard, the local star of fine porcelain production is Coquet, producer of the brands J.L Coquet and Jaune de Chrome. (Two years ago the company was caught up in revelations of The Daphne Project with respect to money laundering. Since 2019, Coquet has belonged to the Compagnie Européenne de Luxe et Traditions.) Porcelaine Carpenet, a family-run Limoges producer, is also located in Saint Leonard.

Saint Leonard de Noblat Tourist Office, Place du Champ de Mars, 87400 Saint-Léonard de Noblat. The tourst office website provides a list of hotels and B&Bs in the area. Note: This is not an area for luxury accommodations or haute cuisine.

Haute-Vienne Tourist Information. Saint Leonard and Limoges are within the department of Haute-Vienne. Americans on the Statue of Liberty tour of France (there are about 25 replicas in France, in addition to those in Paris) might head 12 miles southeast to Châteauneuf-la-Forêt, where one stands as the monument to the dead of the First and Second World Wars. Not much else to see once you get there, but a drive though Haute-Vienne countryside nonetheless.

Oradour sur Glane, the “martyred village,” is also located in Haute-Vienne, 28 miles (46km) west of Saint Leonard de Noblat.

© 2020, Gary Lee Kraut

Go to the second part of this 2-part article Saint Leonard de Noblat: 500 Years of Paper Production.

The post Saint Léonard de Noblat: Pilgrims, Prisoners, Pastries, Porcelain, Paper appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

It’s nearly a shame to read Courtney Withrow’s article below on a screen since it concerns the pleasure of paper: seeing it made, touching it, reading on it and admiring artistic work made with or on it. But it’s a good read nonetheless.

The Moulin du Got is a functioning 500-year-old paper mill near the town of Saint-Léonard-de-Noblat, 12 miles east of Limoges. (See part one of this 2-part series for more about the town.). Built at the end of the 15th century and operational since at least 1522, the mill functioned until 1954, when it was no longer commercially viable. After a nearly 50-year slumber, production was revived in 2003, though no longer with the mass market in mind. Instead, using historical processes, the mill, run by a non-profit association, creates a variety of types of paper from cotton, linen, hemp and other materials, particularly for use in graphic arts.

Open to visitors who can follow these processes from start to finish, the Moulin du Got is a wonderful example of a living historical site as it combines an artisanal papermaking factory, a print shop, an exhibition gallery and hands-on programming for all ages.

By Courtney Withrow

Situated two miles from the center of Saint-Léonard-de-Noblat at the confluence of the Tard and Vienne Rivers, surrounded by rolling fields on one side and unspoiled woods on another, the Moulin du Got’s idyllic location has remained unchanged since the mill was constructed here in the late fifteenth century.

This pastoral landscape accentuates the paper mill’s antiquated charm. Harkening back to a bygone era of artisanal and early industrial papermaking and printing, the mill now manufactures paper by hand as well as with nineteenth-century machinery. While the central mission of the Moulin du Got is historical, it presents living history since this is a fully functional papermill employing a team able to create a beautiful variety of artisanal paper for commercial clients and for visitors to the mill.

For all the slowness that the countryside and the methodical, deliberate process of papermaking represent (it can take hours, even days, for sheets of paper to dry), the Moulin du Got is bustling with life. While the paper-making and printing teams work, other artisans and printers act as tour guides. The Moulin du Got carries on its business even as tourists wander throughout its 500-year-old rooms.

History of the Moulin du Got

Moulin means mill, as in the Moulin Rouge, the Red Mill. And Got is a perversion of gué, meaning ford in French, as in the place where this mill was built. Operational on the Tard River in 1522, the Moulin du Got originally housed nine piles with wooden mallets, which would grind up bits of hemp and linen. Hemp and linen are still the primary papermaking materials used in the mill today, in addition to cotton. Got was one of 24 paper mills around Saint-Léonard-de-Noblat during the 18th-century heydays of paper production in the region.

As the demand for paper increased in the 19th century, the Moulin du Got transitioned from using hemp and linen to straw, a more abundant resource in Limousin. The mill also installed a Hollander beater, which allowed for the production of larger quantities of more refined paper, and a paper machine that mechanized the conversion of pulp into sheets of paper. These enabled the doubling of production. By the 1930s, the Moulin du Got was generating 100 tons of paper per year, but larger, more modern production sites were beginning to surpass it. In the mill’s final chapter before its mid-century closure, it manufactured reinforced cardboard, which was used for toys, masks and dolls. But then the arrival of plastic in the mid-20th century diminished its markets for reinforced cardboard.

The Moulin du Got Today

Despite its agility in the shifting paper industry for 400 years, the Moulin du Got closed in 1954. The building sat vacant until 1997, when a non-profit association was founded with the aim of bringing the paper mill and its traditional methods of paper manufacture back to life. Such associations in France typically seek subsidies from local and regional funds to help them achieve their historical-minded goals. In this case, the town of Saint-Léonard-de-Noblat stepped up to the plate to purchase the property, and through various local, regional and even European funding programs, along with perseverance on the part of the association, the Moulin du Got was rehabilitated. After five years of renovation and a training program for a young cohort of paper crafters and printers, the mill reopened in 2003.

Through the various processes used here, the mill now produces about 1.8 tons of paper each year. Electric motors power the paper mill rather than its original water wheels, however, the wheels have been restored and are used for demonstrations.

The Process of Paper Production

Stepping inside the Moulin du Got one sunny Saturday afternoon, I traded the quiet of the Limousin countryside for a flurry of activity. While visitors browsed through handcrafted items in the boutique adjacent to the welcome area, printers were hard at work in the print shop just beyond the boutique, handling cast-iron contraptions that pinged and clicked like slot machines.

The guided tour begins, however, in the heart of the mill where two enormous granite millstones resembling huge wheels of cheese stand atop a bed of ground-up hemp, linen and cotton. As they rotate, the millstones grind the grey, shredded cloth underneath until it looks like dryer lint.

Past the millstones stand large vats filled with pulp. A Hollander beater chops the pulp with metal blades in order to refine it, producing paper with thin fibers. Once the Hollander beater thins the pulp, the mixture is fed through the paper machine. Equipped with several spinning cylinders, the paper machine draws the pulp from its tub and pushes it across its cylinders, flattening it to make long sheets of paper.

The millstones, the Hollander beater and the paper machine represent only one papermaking process at the Moulin du Got. Pre-industrial, handmade techniques are also used. There, the paper crafter fills a rectangular wooden frame with pulp, presses it, then delicately removes the waterlogged sheet and lays it between two pieces of felt to dry. Liquid pulp, resembling watered-down milk, drips off the wooden frame as the crafter works. All of the pulp filling the two large tubs will be transformed into sheets of solid paper, either by hand or by machine.

Beyond Paper Production

While papermaking itself constitutes the most significant part of the Moulin du Got’s mission, a portion of the drying room serves as an exhibition gallery. This year’s exhibition concerns paper artwork inspired by Japanese culture.

The mill also houses a printing shop. Three typography machines from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries allow the printers to create graphic art, lithographs and engravings. The highlight of the printing shop is the enormous linotype machine, which casts lead fragments into typeset blocks of text for individual use. The huge linotype stands taller than an armoire and sits wider than an armchair. When operated it makes an immense racket. The machine uses hot metal typesetting. It contains a reservoir of molten lead, which it transforms into a block of letters when the typist enters a word on the keyboard. The linotype is sustainable, so when the printers are done with a block of text they can put it back into the reservoir of molten lead, melting it down again for reuse.

Although printing wasn’t an original operation of the Moulin du Got, the traditional printing shop was a logical addition to the historical site. In the shop, the printers set their creativity free, fashioning unique bookmarks, notebooks, postcards and other items to sell in the mill’s boutique. Most of the paper and printing produced is sold on-site, however, the mill also fills special orders for artists, editors and other printers.

Using techniques from different eras, the team at Moulin du Got creates a variety of paper types. The thicker paper made by hand, with its denser fibers, is destined for watercolor painting or engravings. From the paper machine, artisans can produce long, fine sheets or ribbed, “smocked” paper. Most of the paper is stiff, with a slight yet noticeable texture. The thick, handmade paper comes out speckled, the denser pulp making for a grainier appearance.

Special Creations

In the years since its reopening, the Moulin du Got has received accolades for its commitment to historical craftsmanship and pthe reservation of cultural heritage. A schedule of programs that are open to the public at the mill include marionette shows, origami lessons and classes in postcard design and Japanese-style painting. In 2009, the site’s educational, cultural and artistic mission won the Moulin du Got a first-place prize in the national Rubans de Patrimoine competition, which gives financial awards to heritage-minded initiatives throughout France.

This is living heritage since the team continues to experiment with new initiatives and to fulfill specialized requests from clients. They’ll sometimes manufacture paper from unexpected materials such as vegetables or blue jeans. For one of their clients, a winegrower, the team created paper wine bottle labels made from grape stems. Moulin du Got paper has also been used in the design of artisanal lampshades. Visiting artists-in-residence pursue creative projects, such as the author who published his book entirely by hand, page by page, with the help of the mill’s artisans and printers.

The Moulin du Got may be well off the beaten path, but once arrived visitors are drawn into the craftsmanship and physicality of paper, printing and typography, and perhaps to the pleasure of holding and reading a book rather than a screen.

Le Moulin du Got, 87400 Saint-Léonard-du-Noblat. Tel. 05 55 57 18 74.

Photo: From the Moulin du Got boutique. The cover of the purple notepad is an example of “smocked” paper and the bookmark is fashioned from paper made by hand. Photo: Courtney Withrow

© 2020, Courtney Withrow for France Revisited

Courtney Withrow is a freelance writer living in Brussels, Belgium. During her nine-month stay in Limoges as a teaching assistant, she visited several small towns in Haute-Vienne, including Saint-Leonard-de-Noblat. She maintains a travel blog.

Visiting Preserved and Restored Mills Throughout France

Hundreds of preserved and restored mills of all kinds can be visited or viewed by travelers in France. Some have been restored to function in a way related to their original use, as at the Moulin du Got, while others live on as exhibition centers, restaurants or B&Bs. Travelers particularly interested in mills should check out the website of the FFAM, Fédération Française des Associations de sauvegarde des Moulins, the French Federation of Associations for the Preservations of Mills. The FFAM’s website provides links to the websites of non-profit associations throughout the country and a map indicating the location of hundreds of preserved mills, whether preserved for non-profit, for profit or private use. Some may be visited year-round and many more in summer and during school vacations. Special visits are organized at mills throughout France during Mill Days (Journées du Moulins), held over the fourth weekend of June.

– GLK

Return to part one of this 2-part series, Saint Leonard de Noblat: Pilgrims, prisoners, pastries, porcelain, papermill.

The post Saint Leonard de Noblat: 500 Years of Paper Production appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.

On Saturday, June 10, 1944, four days after Allied Forces landed on the beaches in Normandy, beginning the liberation of Europe, and while locals went about their business, Nazis from the 2nd Waffen-SS, an armored division, arrived without warning and sealed off the village. Starting in mid-afternoon, residents were rounded up, herded to the market square and separated by gender. Men were corralled into barns and other large spaces and machine-gunned; shots were aimed first at their legs to prohibit escape. Women and children were taken to the church and locked inside. A device was lit that caused suffocating smoke; the church was then barraged with hand grenades and set on fire. Later, the soldiers ransacked the village, set fires and used dynamite to maximize destruction. By eight in the evening, the German soldiers withdrew from the smoking ruins of Oradour-sur-Glane. Only six men and one woman survived the carnage.

After the war, Charles de Gaulle, with consensus from the French government, ordered that the “martyred village,” as it is called, remain shattered and charred as a painful reminder of the brutality of war. Oradour-sur-Glane has been labeled a historical monument since 1946.

A sign directed us to the car park. It was not crowded, and as we walked to the Centre de la Mémoire we looked toward where we had first glimpsed the ruins in a macabre attempt to see more than the tops of walls, but nothing else was visible; visitors must follow a prescribed route in order to experience the village. Along the way to the entrance is a tall column constructed of rough-hewn cubes of stone topped by a statue of a naked woman emerging from flames, her arms flailing upward in anguish. On the column is a line from poet, Paul Eluard: Ici / Des hommes / firent à leur mère / Et à toutes les femmes la plus grave / injure / Ils n’épargnèrent pas les enfants. (Here, men have made their mothers and all women the most serious insult: they did not spare the children.)

The Memory Center of Oradour-sur-Glane comes into view as a series of angled, irregular, rust-colored slabs thrusting up from the earth. The center’s website describes the design for the Memory Center as “non-architecture.” As you walk toward it, the peaceful, verdant surroundings of the Glane Valley disguise its purpose. But upon approach, the blade-like slabs purposefully rupture the scenery and the epithet “village martyr” appears on the entrance.

Visitors descend into the building which is sparse and utilitarian. There is a room off of the main space, a theater for informative films about the site. Upon entering, we were startled by a wall of black-and-white photographs of the 642 men, women and children who were massacred at Oradour-sur-Glane. Each minute or so an enlargement of one of the photographs appeared on a screen and then dissolved into another and then another, while names were spoken in a continuous, somber cadence. The faces and names of babies, children, teens and adults, individuals in every stage of life, forced us to confront human connections to an historic event.

In a room adjoining the wall of photographs, scrapbooks were assembled alphabetically by family with materials and photos painstakingly collected and catalogued to convey the loss of homes, businesses, religious lives, careers, interests, personalities and voices. We turned the pages, looking into the eyes of the school teacher and the doctor, smiling at the faces of children peering over a balcony at a family gathering, recognizing the affection of a family for its dog, and feeling the joy of sweethearts on their wedding day. Through the photographs we pieced together a scene of village life like those we had seen in so many old films. The church, bakery, café, clothing store, other businesses and private homes became backdrops for people smiling and posing and walking by, revealing a vital community where life went on despite the war. Images of intimacy suggested passages that resonate in all societies. These were cherished moments meant to be looked at again and again in albums filled with the chronology of family. Today they were a preface for travelers about to journey through a moment of savagery.

Visitors emerge from the austere, underground Memory Center into natural light and into the present. Passing a sign that declares “Souviens-Toi” and “Remember,” we walked the streets of Oradour-sur-Glane.

Sidewalks and roads and intersections declare that this village was planned and grew over time with commerce and life, but crumbled walls and rubble reveal a community long dead. We had anticipated the desolation and the ruins; we had even envisioned some specific remains from photographs. What we could not foresee, however, was our own emotional response. Rather than being transfixed solely by the material remnants of a village frozen in time since 1944, we felt our senses stunned by the horrific impact of life unexpectedly and instantly extinguished.

Throughout the occupation the Nazis maintained a precarious relationship with the puppet government in Vichy in an effort to control the civilian population. But the destruction of Oradour and its citizens was so barbaric that the German military realized it had to do something to deflect blame and suppress public outrage. Within days, in response to a protest from Vichy, the German military put together a document that accused the villagers of initiating the fight and blamed the deaths of the women and children in the church on an explosion of hidden ammunition kept by the villagers. They also ordered a perfunctory criminal investigation. The massacre was brought up at the Nuremburg trials, and in 1953 it was the sole focus of a military tribunal at Bordeaux. Neither of these investigations resulted in decisive understanding of the event. To this day, no definitive evidence exists as to why the SS attacked the village, but there are theories.

Systematic attacks upon civilians as a way to maintain order in occupied countries was an inherent Nazi strategy. This was regular practice in the Eastern Front, and as the war continued, violence against civilians became more common in France. After the Allies landed at Normandy, efforts by the French Resistance to disrupt German supply lines and communications increased. In response, orders were issued by the German military to crush the resistance without mercy. The resistance was particularly active around Clermont-Ferrand and the department of Corrèze, not far from Oradour-sur-Glane. Tactics of the resistance included attacks on troops and kidnapping. On June 9th, the day before the Oradour massacre, ninety-nine men were hanged in Tulle, capital of Corrèze, as punishment for partisan harassment of the Nazi 2nd SS division as it made its way north toward Normandy. It was this same division that annihilated Oradour-sur-Glane the following day.

An audio tour can be rented at the Memory Center, but we chose to walk the streets of Oradour on our own and construct a narrative from the simple plaques that identify businesses and their proprietors and homes and their residents. Each step reveals objects that support life; the remnants of tables, bed frames, bicycles and cars are wedged within the rubble of collapsed buildings. Buckets and rusted sewing machines sit in extant frames of windows or niches. Irregular, partially standing walls give testament to the bombardment of the village by the Nazis following the murders. Places that enrich and nurture a citizenry are ravaged. The roofless offices of the doctor and dentist, the wine shop, a girl’s school, an iron forge and the boulangerie are fragments of dirt and stone. The outline of a café has a single outdoor table; the automobile repair garage still has the frame of a door large enough for a truck, but no walls or roof to enclose it. Each vestige of life rests useless amid the disarray of charred stone and wreckage. Weeds push up beneath the rust and rubble of seventy years. Flowers bloom through as well. As we roamed the streets with other visitors, the uniformity of silence was remarkable. This is not a place for conversation or expletive even though each step leads to palpable savagery.

The main street meanders through the town past the market place, barns, fields, residences. It opens to side streets but eventually everyone takes a road that leads to the church. If a visitor expects solace, some divine absolution from this site, it does not come. A rusted baby carriage in the barren, roofless nave of the church is a reminder that the youngest victim murdered and burned was eight days old. The symmetry of the marble altar could be lovely as a relic aging naturally over time. Instead, the image of Christ that adorns it, rendered faceless by bombardment, and the empty rectangle of its tabernacle are reminders of congregants whose desperation and wails filled this cavernous room on June 10, 1944. Perhaps there are prayers uttered by visitors but they too are silent. Silence punctuates Oradour-sur-Glane.

A great deal of material exists about the destruction of Oradour-sur-Glane. Research has examined assertions that the village was a storehouse of armaments and that it harbored resistance fighters; information reveals that a number of Jews were among the dead. After the war a few Nazi soldiers were investigated for their part in the massacre, but only one was held accountable. As recently as 2013 Germany started a new investigation to locate soldiers who might have been involved. That same year German President Joachim Gauck stood with French President François Hollande to acknowledge the atrocity.

Photos, documents and maps can be accessed with ease, and the question “why” goes unanswered. But the significance of Oradour-sur-Glane is found in its very existence and in the power of its empty streets to elicit profound questions about humanity. As objects eventually rust beyond recognition, and rubble is eroded by nature, the village will survive the decay and abide the silence of visitors. And in its admonishment—“Souviens-toi,” “Remember”—Oradour-sur-Glane will continue to remind us to remember and to be vigilant.

Text by Elizabeth Esris
Photos by Michael Esris

For practical information about Oradour and surroundings
The Memory Center at Oradour-sur-Glane, L’Auze, 87520 Oradour-sur-Glane. Tel. 05 55 43 34 30.
Situating Oradour: Oradour is located 14 miles northwest of Limoges in the department of Haute-Vienne, one of three departments in the historic region of Limousin, itself now a part of the vast region of New Aquitaine.

The post The Silence of Oradour-sur-Glane appeared first on France Revisited - Life in Paris, Travel in France.