Living in the Languedoc: Central Government: French
National Anthem: The Marseillaise
  On
25th April 1792, Claude-Joseph Rouget de Lisle, a Captain
of the Engineers in the Rhine Army, was stationed in Strasbourg.
France had just declared war on Austria and Prussia and
the army was preparing to go to Paris. The Mayor of Strasbourg
approached de Lisle about composing a marching tune for
this march to Paris and de Lisle composed it during the
night. Born in 1760 in Lons-le-Saunier, France.
 The
song was originally entitled Chant de guerre de l'armeé
du Rhin (War Song of the Army of the Rhine). It was
first played at a patriotic banquet where it captured everyone's
attention with its stirring melody. It became so popular
with volunteer army units from Marseilles that it was renamed
after those units, coming to be called La Marseillaise.
Printed copies of the Marseillaise were given to
the revolutionary forces who entered Paris. Singing this
song, they marched to the Tuileries on August 10th 1792.
 The
Marseillaise was accepted as the official national anthem
of France on July 14, 1795 by the Convention. It was banned
by Napoleon III during the Empire and by Louis XVIII during
the Second Restoration of 1815. Napoleon's decision was
based on the song's revolutionary character and its dangerous
revolutionary association.
In 1830 Napoleon III had to ban it again since it had been
brought back by the authorities after the revolution in
the July of 1830. It was finally officially restored in
1879.
La Marseillaise was originally divided into seven verses
and a chorus. Most people are familiar only with the first
verse and the chorus, and the tempo of the song has also
been modified. "La Marseillaise" was re-arranged by Hector
Berlioz around 1830. From time to time, French political
leaders have requested that the song be played in its entirety
using its original tempo, slower than the modern version.
  Rouget
de Lisle was neither a political figure nor a famous musician.
In fact he was a royalist and refused to take the oath of
allegiance to the new constitution. He was imprisoned and
escaped the guillotine only because of the fact that he had
composed the famous song. He died in 1836, having written
a number of unremarkable novels and operas. Today he is a
national hero, commemorated in road names all over the country.
La Marsaillaise was for a long time the favoured song
of western international revolutionaries, but was superseded by the Internationale
("The Red Flag"). The Marsaillaise was banned in Vichy France and German occupied
areas during World War II. Merely singing it was regarded an act of resistance.
Since then the anthem has become controversial in France because of its lyrics.
Some consider the French National anthem to be militaristic and xenophobic, and
propositions have been made from time to time to change the lyrics or drop the
song altogether . Here is
the full text of all seven verses of the Marseillaise in French, with an English
translation:
Allons enfants de la Patrie,
Le jour de gloire est arrivé !
Contre nous
de la tyrannie,
L'étendard sanglant est levé !
L'étendard sanglant est
levé !
Entendez-vous dans les campagnes
Mugir ces féroces soldats ?
Ils viennent jusque dans nos bras
Egorger nos fils et nos compagnes !
| Arise children of the fatherland
The day of glory has
arrived
Against us tyranny's
Bloody standard is raised
Bloody standard
is raised
Can you hear in the fields
The howling of these fearsome soldiers?
They are coming into our midst
To cut the throats of our sons and consorts!
| Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez
vos bataillons !
Marchons ! marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos
sillons !
| To arms, citizens,
Form in battalions,
March, march!
Let impure blood
Water our furrows!
|
Que veut cette horde d'esclaves,
De traîtres, de rois conjurés
?
Pour qui ces ignobles entraves,
Ces fers dès longtemps préparés ?
Ces fers dès longtemps préparés ?
Français, pour nous, ah! quel outrage !
Quels transports il doit exciter !
C'est nous qu'on ose méditer
De rendre
à l'antique esclavage !
| What do they want this horde of slaves
Of traitors and conspiratorial kings?
For whom these vile chains
These
long-prepared irons?
These long-prepared irons?
Frenchmen, for us, ah!
What outrage
What methods must be taken?
It is we they dare plan
To return to the old slavery!
|
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons ! marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons !
| To arms, citizens,
Form in battalions,
March, march!
Let impure blood
Water our
furrows!
| Quoi ! ces cohortes étrangères
Feraient
la loi dans nos foyers !
Quoi ! ces phalanges mercenaires
Terrasseraient
nos fiers guerriers !
Terrasseraient nos fiers guerriers !
Grand Dieu
! par des mains enchaînées
Nos fronts sous le joug se ploieraient !
De
vils despotes deviendraient
Les maîtres de nos destinées !
| What!
These foreign cohorts
Would make laws in our homes!
What! These mercenary
phalanxes
Would cut down our proud warriors
Would cut down our proud
warriors
Good Lord! By chained hands
Our brow would yield under the yoke
Vile despots would have themselves be
The masters of our destinies!
| Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos
bataillons !
Marchons ! marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons
!
| To arms, citizens,
Form in battalions,
March,
march!
Let impure blood
Water our furrows!
|
Tremblez, tyrans et vous perfides,
L'opprobre de tous les partis,
Tremblez ! vos projets parricides
Vont enfin recevoir leurs prix !
Vont
enfin recevoir leurs prix !
Tout est soldat pour vous combattre,
S'ils
tombent, nos jeunes héros,
La terre en produit de nouveaux,
Contre vous
tout prêts à se battre !
| Tremble, tyrants and traitors
The
shame of all good men
Tremble! Your parricidal schemes
Will finally
receive their just reward
Will finally receive their just reward
Against
you, everyone is a soldier,
If they fall, our young heroes,
France will
bear new ones
Ready to join the fight against you!
|
Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons
! marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons !
|
To arms, citizens,
Form in battalions,
March, march!
Let impure
blood
Water our furrows!
| Français, en guerriers magnanimes,
Portez ou retenez vos coups !
Epargnez
ces tristes victimes,
A regret s'armant contre nous.
A regret s'armant
contre nous.
Mais ces despotes sanguinaires,
Mais ces complices de Bouillé,
Tous ces tigres qui, sans pitié,
Déchirent le sein de leur mère ! |
Frenchmen, as magnanimous warriors
Bear or hold back your wounds!
Spare
these sad victims,
Who regret to take up arms against us.
Who regret
to take up arms against us.
But not these bloody despots,
These accomplices
of Bouillé,
All these tigers who pitilessly,
Ripped out their mothers'
wombs!
| Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons ! marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve
nos sillons !
| To arms, citizens,
Form in battalions,
March, march!
Let impure blood
Water our furrows!
|
Amour sacré de la Patrie,
Conduis, soutiens nos bras vengeurs !
Liberté, Liberté chérie,
Combats avec tes défenseurs !
Combats avec tes
défenseurs !
Sous nos drapeaux, que la victoire
Accoure à tes mâles accents
!
Que tes ennemis expirants
Voient ton triomphe et notre gloire !
| Sacred love of the fatherland,
Drive and support our avenging arms
Liberty, cherished liberty,
Struggle with your defenders.
Struggle
with your defenders.
Under our flags, let victory
Hurry to your male
tone
So that your agonising enemies
See your triumph and our glory!
| Aux armes, citoyens !
Formez vos
bataillons !
Marchons ! marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons
!
| To arms, citizens,
Form in battalions,
March,
march!
Let impure blood
Water our furrows!
|
Nous entrerons dans la carrière
Quand nos aînés n'y seront plus;
Nous y trouverons leur poussière
Et la trace de leurs vertus.
Et la trace
de leurs vertus.
Bien moins jaloux de leur survivre
Que de partager leur
cercueil,
Nous aurons le sublime orgueil
De les venger ou de les suivre
!
| We shall enter into the pit
When our elders will have gone,
There we shall find their ashes
And the mark of their virtues.
And
the mark of their virtues.
Much less jealous of surviving them
Than of
sharing their coffins,
We shall have the sublime pride
Of avenging or
joining them.
| Aux armes, citoyens
!
Formez vos bataillons !
Marchons ! marchons !
Qu'un sang impur
Abreuve nos sillons !
| To arms, citizens,
Form in
battalions,
March, march!
Let impure blood
Water our furrows!
|
|
The
French Tricolore
