July 14th. Bastille Day. Hallowed holiday in the Hexagon, celebrated with military marches and fly-overs, politicians’ cliché-crusted speeches—and fireworks! Millions of Frenchpersons lustily belting out the Marseillaise. A somewhat bizarre choice of national holiday, given that the glory that is la belle Patrie existed long before enraged crowds stormed the Bastille in 1789. Which was something of a fizzle anyway, since the squat tower prison boasted only seven prisoners at the time. But today a richly colored mosaic running the length of the quai of metro-stop Bastille dramatizes the Storming, with common-folk heroes and heroines led by Marianne, the avatar of the Republic. Not to be confused with Joan of Arc, a real-life avatar of French independence. Or maybe—yes, somewhat. Why not? Perhaps #metoo (or, locally, #balancetonporc, roughly: ‘heave-ho your pig’) has mustered less passion in France than in more chauvinist countries because from the so-called Dark Ages on down through Madame de Stael and our era of Marine le Pen and Christine Lagarde, so many Frenchwomen have enjoyed considerable respect and power.
Sadly, as you may know: this year’s fireworks were summarily cancelled. The reasons being one, the risk of setting hot, parched woods ablaze, and two, the likelihood of re-igniting the urban riots that have barely simmered down since a teenager was shot by a cop during a traffic stop. The kind of ‘accidental’ killing that has often quickly faded from the US media brought on France’s summer of burn, baby, burn: looting, tear gas, cars torched, mayors and their families threatened, thousands of arrests. The cop behind bars. Who would want to drop a red, white, and blue rocket into the tinder of the angry banlieues?
A touch of irony: Orban of Hungary and other national purists point to France’s historically liberal immigration policy (family reunification from Africa in particular) as the cause of her current social upheavals–and inarguable proof of the need for keeping their own borders tightly sealed against the exhausted migrants at the gate (mainly Africans).
Photo: the Bastille memorial, favored rallying place for Paris demos.
POINT de VUE: PARIS 
i don’t celebrate Bastille Day thanks to a careful reading og the blood lust in ghe lyrics of La Marseillaise. Not the only such bloody anthem’, but this one alas belongs to La belle France…country i love for other reasons but not this one. xxxx m French English Translation by Laura K. Lawless
Verse 1:
Allons enfants de la patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
Contre nous de la tyrannie
L’étendard sanglant est levé ! (bis)
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes,
Mugir ces féroces soldats ?
Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras
Égorger nos fils, nos compagnes!
Verse 1:
Let’s go children of the fatherland,
The day of glory has arrived!
Against us tyranny’s
Bloody flag is raised! (repeat)
In the countryside, do you hear
The roaring of these fierce soldiers?
They come right to our arms
To slit the throats of our sons, our friends!
Refrain:
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons ! Marchons !
Qu’un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons !
Refrain:
Grab your weapons, citizens!
Form your battalions!
Let us march! Let us march!
May impure blood
Water our fields!
Verse 2:
Que veut cette horde d’esclaves,
De traîtres, de rois conjurés ?
Pour qui ces ignobles entraves,
Ces fers dès longtemps préparés ? (bis)
Français ! pour nous, ah ! quel outrage !
Quels transports il doit exciter !
C’est nous qu’on ose méditer
De rendre à l’antique esclavage !
Verse 2:
This horde of slaves, traitors, plotting kings,
What do they want?
For whom these vile shackles,
These long-prepared irons? (repeat)
Frenchmen, for us, oh! what an insult!
What emotions that must excite!
It is us that they dare to consider
Returning to ancient slavery!
Verse 3:
Quoi ! ces cohortes étrangères
Feraient la loi dans nos foyers !
Quoi ! ces phalanges mercenaires
Terrasseraient nos fiers guerriers ! (bis)
Grand Dieu ! par des mains enchaînées
Nos fronts sous le joug se ploiraient !
De vils despotes deviendraient
Les maîtres de nos destinées !
Verse 3:
What! These foreign troops
Would make laws in our home!
What! These mercenary phalanxes
Would bring down our proud warriors! (repeat)
Good Lord! By chained hands
Our brows would bend beneath the yoke!
Vile despots would become
The masters of our fate!
Verse 4:
Tremblez, tyrans ! et vous, perfides,
L’opprobre de tous les partis,
Tremblez ! vos projets parricides
Vont enfin recevoir leur prix ! (bis)
Tout est soldat pour vous combattre,
S’ils tombent, nos jeunes héros,
La France en produit de nouveaux,
Contre vous tout prêts à se battre !
Verse 4:
Tremble, tyrants! and you, traitors,
The disgrace of all groups,
Tremble! Your parricidal plans
Will finally pay the price! (repeat)
Everyone is a soldier to fight you,
If they fall, our young heros,
France will make more,
Ready to battle you!
Verse 5:
Français, en guerriers magnanimes,
Portez ou retenez vos coups !
Épargnez ces tristes victimes,
A regret s’armant contre nous. (bis)
Mais ces despotes sanguinaires,
Mais ces complices de Bouillé,
Tous ces tigres qui, sans pitié,
Déchirent le sein de leur mère !
Verse 5:
Frenchmen, as magnanimous warriors,
Bear or hold back your blows!
Spare these sad victims,
Regretfully arming against us. (repeat)
But not these bloodthirsty despots,
But not these accomplices of Bouillé,
All of these animals who, without pity,
Tear their mother’s breast to pieces!
Verse 6:
Amour sacré de la patrie,
Conduis, soutiens nos bras vengeurs !
Liberté, Liberté chérie,
Combats avec tes défenseurs ! (bis)
Sous nos drapeaux, que la victoire
Accoure à tes mâles accents !
Que tes ennemis expirants
Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire !
Verse 6:
Sacred love of France,
Lead, support our avenging arms!
Liberty, beloved Liberty,
Fight with your defenders! (repeat)
Under our flags, let victory
Hasten to your manly tones!
May your dying enemies
See your triumph and our glory!
Verse 7:
Nous entrerons dans la carrière
Quand nos aînés n’y seront plus ;
Nous y trouverons leur poussière
Et la trace de leurs vertus. (bis)
Bien moins jaloux de leur survivre
Que de partager leur cercueil,
Nous aurons le sublime orgueil
De les venger ou de les suivre !
Verse 7:
We will enter the pit
When our elders are no longer there;
There, we will find their dust
And the traces of their virtues. (repeat)
Much less eager to outlive them
Than to share their casket,
We will have the sublime pride
Of avenging them or following them!