Today is the 220th anniversary of the quintessential revolutionary statement, the storming of the Bastille. Really, unless you’re of the First or Second Estate, ya just gotta love the idea of the riff-raff of Paris rushing to a moldy old prison, releasing all the prisoners—all seven of them—& basically destroying the arch symbol of l’Ancien Régime.
Bugger the fact that none of the inmates was actually a, tu sais, political prisoner (unless you count “the accused conspirator, Tavernier”). Nothing but a few forgers, one aristo committed by his family (possibly for pecuniary reasons—the Bastille was good in that regard), another (a putative Englishman) & two lunatics.
Well, after all—we’re talking les Français, mes chers amis; symbolism is reality.
Anyhow, oubliez les Sans Culottes; this is an excuse to drink wine , eat snails in garlic butter & shout revolutionary slogans.
Vive la Révolution!
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