‘THIS is a rebel city,” my host tells me. “When King Louis fortified the city port, he had to turn the guns to face the people. They were that scared,” Julian boasts. You might think this is exaggerated local pride – but that would diminish Marseille’s place in French history.

La Marseillaise takes its name from the country’s second largest city, and more specifically from the song of its recruits who marched on Paris in defence of the 1790s revolution. In the centuries before and since, the coastal town resisted centralised control.

The city is still marked by that experience. As it grew to become the main naval stronghold of the French Empire on the Mediterranean, forts Saint-Jean and Saint-Nicholas were built to quell the ruckus of disloyal locals.

The most fascinating location of that period is Château d’If, a mile out into the ocean. Originally a fort, it became an infamous offshore prison. Thousands of political and religious dissidents were held in the jail for their radical beliefs or political campaigns.

The year of the 1848 French revolution has been carved into the wall more than 90 times by the political prisoners who were held there at the time: "L. Juge. Socialiste. Juin 1848", "Schaffhausen. Democrate. Juin 1848", "Pradeau. Republican. Juin 1848".

Although, somehow, they had the liberty to carve a message for future generations, their stay was unlikely to have been pleasant. Gaston Crémieux, the leader of the Marseilles commune in 1871, was even executed on the island for his political beliefs.

Yet recognition of the island’s role soared due to a fictional prisoner. Alexandre Dumas set his 19th-century adventure novel The Count of Monte Cristo in the prison, from which its hero escapes. In the decades that followed, myth mixed with reality. Many visitors to Château d’If began to believe it was based on true events.

But it’s the real exploits of Dumas – who was himself caught up in French revolutionary fervour – that make for an epic tale. He faced censorship and eventually bankruptcy over his attempts to popularise social history in theatre.

As a writer from a mixed-race family, he also faced racism and abuse simply for how he looked. In a famous put-down, in response to an insult concerning his African ancestry, Dumas said: “My father was a mulatto, my grandfather was a Negro, and my great-grandfather a monkey. You see, Sir, my family starts where yours ends.”

Today, on the port side where Dumas first set off to explore d’If, there are campaigners opposing modern racism. Hopeful youths stand, arms outstretched, offering "free hugs". Combatting that political powder keg will require much more.

The same revolutionary anger that Dumas and countless generations in Marseille embraced is also heard today in the streets through the French labour movement – challenging an attempt to undermine rights at work. But it is the French right, led by Marie Le Pen, that is attempting to benefit from that alienation ahead of next year’s presidential election.

In the days after the Brexit vote, Le Pen, to the horror of moderate Unionists, embraced the Union flag as a sign of where she wants to take France. That would be a dereliction of French history. As the walls of Château d’If memorialise, many here have struggled and suffered for a belief in equality and freedom. As Julian stares out his window towards the sea, that hope still hovers in the hot coastal air.


Brexiteers neglected the Irish border question

THE contradictions thrown up by the Brexit vote are set to dominate British and Irish politics for years to come. One task that the Leave campaign did next to no planning for was what happens to the Northern Ireland border.

The common travel area has long protected freedom of movement between independent Ireland and the UK. Both countries want free travel and trade to continue, even after England and Wales leave the EU.

Is this consistent with the “take back control” rhetoric about ending free movement into the UK? Not at all.

What’s interesting about the border question for Belfast, Dublin, and London is that when push comes to shove, Westminster wants a special deal with its nearest independent neighbours. Forget “borders and barriers”. As one right-wing, anti-EU MEP told me, it’s poor foreigners he wants to keep out – not the Irish.

That’s a disgusting hypocrisy. But it illustrates that the same interests would apply between an independent, European Scotland and the rest of the UK. Hopefully the empty threats of 2014 on the question of borders are now clear for all to see.

Irish politicians, now seriously considering the issue of unification between the North and South for the first time in generations, are certainly prepared to defend their national interest with a future referendum. They are determined to ensure that the border remains open.