Yesterday was July 14th... Bastille Day.
It's a great day of celebration in France and in other places around the world; even Philadelphia has a huge celebration every year to commemorate the holiday. Philly's celebration is even complete with an actress dressed as Marie Antoinette tossing pastries to the crowds, in remembrance of that famous line, "Let them eat cake." It's actually horribly and ignorantly inaccurate, considering that it was Louis XIV's wife, Marie-Therese, who uttered those infamous words.
Like so much about the French Revolution, fiction has become fact, the true history is diluted, the atrocities of the Reign of Terror are forgotten or ignored, and instead we're called upon to praise the standard of "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity."
Somehow, the cheers and the songs and the celebration are supposed to make us forget how much was lost, and instead make us glorify the empty promises of socialism and nationalism.
We're supposed to forget that the storming of the Bastille in Paris, France on July the Fourteenth, 1789 effectively marked the beginning of the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror. We're supposed to forget that it marked the end of the Catholic monarchy in France, and sounded the death knell for thousands of Catholics who revolted against the anti-Catholic government that took it's place. We're supposed to forget that in the name of "Liberty, Equality and Fraternity," priests, monks and nuns, husbands and wives, women and children were massacred by 'Madame Guillotine.' We're supposed to forget that monasteries, convents and churches were plundered and priceless relics were lost or destroyed. We're supposed to forget about the brave peasants from the Vendée who were martyred horrifically by the new Republican government, because they weren't buying the new regime and fought back for "God and King."
Sadly, it's worked. Many have forgotten. Some intentionally ignore it. My own husband, a very well-read and devout Catholic, had no idea what Bastille day even was. Granted, in the United States, it's not such a big deal. But to some one who was educated solely in the Catholic school system it should have been a big deal. I mean, even the liberal media in the States knows what Bastille Day really stands for.
Last year, as part of the celebrations in San Francisco, the French consulate hosted a Mass for Bastille Day. I don't know if it was someone's disgusting idea of a joke, or if maybe even the French have forgotten what they've lost, but a local news agency caught the glaring incongruity. Joe Eskenazi, who writes a blog for 'San Francisco Weekly' had this to say:
Finally, the unbelievable: The consulate mentions the "messe officielle du 14 juillet" -- the official mass of Bastille Day, which was held on Sunday at Notre Dame des Victoires on Bush Street. Truly, this is an astounding notion: The Catholic celebration of the event that triggered the systematic dismantling of the Catholic church in France, and led to a great many priests and other religious figures being guillotined or chased from the nation with their possessions in tow. Needless to say, you don't have official Bastille Day masses in France today -- it'd be like McDonald's offering a commemorative burger giveaway on the date of a violent vegetarian uprising. (Full article here)It makes me cringe.
Why have we allowed ourselves to forget? Why have the Catholic schools stopped teaching the truth about this pivotal part of the history of 'The Oldest Daughter of the Church'?
I'm not a historian, nor do I pretend to be, but I can see the importance, and the tragedy, of remembering the death, the martyrdom and persecution of the Catholic Church in France.
On Bastille Day, I will commemorate, but not by tossing pastries or by parades and fireworks. I will remember the Saints that the French Revolution gave to the ranks of the Church Triumphant. I will ask for their intercession and pray that I may be granted the Fortitude that they so willingly displayed.
And I will listen to Poulenc's opera 'Les dialogues des carmélites' which recounts the story of the Carmelite nuns of Compiegne, who were martyred at the guillotine when they refused to disband their order and continued to practice the religious life. The final scene is heartbreakingly beautiful, and brings me to tears every time I see it.
Poulenc was a Frenchman who did not forget, and neither should you or I.
Final Scene of 'Les dialogues des carmélites'
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