All language subtitles for Monsieur.N.2003.FRENCH.1080p.WEBRip.x264-VXT

Our Father,

Who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name.

Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done in earth,
as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.

And forgive our trespasses,

as we forgive those
who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation.

Amen.

SAINT HELENA - 15 OCTOBER 1840

I was celebrating my twentieth birthday
that very day.

I had just graduated from Sandhurst

and my only military experience
consisted of moving figurines

on maps in generals' offices.

On the 22nd of June 1815,

Napoleon the First
had been forced to abdicate.

Deemed a war criminal,

he had been exiled for life,
for security reasons.

His prison was barely visible on any map,

a rocky island

in the middle of the South Atlantic
known as Saint Helena.

Fate had led to my being posted there.

And so the man whom I'd been taught
to hate at military school,

the man who fascinated me so,

was going to become my prisoner.

My name is Basil Heathcote.

I took part unwittingly
in what may one day be known as

"The Emperor's Final Battle."

My aim isn't to rewrite history,
but to attempt to shed some light

on the puzzling events that I witnessed,

events that continue to remain
a mystery to me.

DEADWOOD CAMP

At Longwood, Napoleon had instituted
the protocol of the former imperial court.

The Grand Marshal of the "Palace"
was none other than Marechal Bertrand,

a living legend.

Bertrand had fought in
all of Napoleon's campaigns since Italy.

Marechal Bertrand,
allow me to introduce Sir Hudson Lowe.

who will, as of tomorrow, replace me
as Governor of Saint Helena.

As of tonight.

My respects, Your Excellency.

My respects, Marechal.

Would you kindly introduce me
to General Bonaparte?

I'm afraid that is not possible.

The emperor is napping
and won't be disturbed.

When may I see him?

I must pay my respects.

I understand, Your Excellency,

but I must obey His Majesty.

I'll send word as soon as the emperor
is ready to grant you an audience.

The Imperial Court formed a genuine screen
between the emperor and his jailers.

A screen that I see now
was the first stage in the battle.

It was three days before the emperor
finally granted the Governor an audience

and so the jailer was about to
"visit" his prisoner at last.

Governor...

I have come, sir, to pay my respects.

Your French is excellent, sir.

I hear you also speak Italian,
Spanish, and Portuguese.

I'll speak whichever language
you prefer, sir.

I also hear that you've commanded
a Corsican regiment?

Yes, the Corsican Rangers.
Excellent soldiers.

Traitors, you mean.

They were fighting for their country.

Their country is France.

And before they were French,
the Corsicans were Genovese.

Never English, as far as I'm aware.

I've looked at your service records.

It's nothing but setbacks.

Failure in Naples, defeat in Capri.

How does one emerge victorious
after so many defeats?

How does one emerge defeated
after so many victories?

Only one battle matters, Governor.

The last one.

Waterloo, General?

The last one.

May I ask, to which general do you speak?

The only title
my government recognizes you under

is that of general.

3000 men and ten warships,
all that to hold a general prisoner?

A war prisoner whose freedom
could compromise world peace.

I'm no prisoner.

I handed myself to England to claim asylum
which your ministers violated.

The law of wars of civilized nations--

Civilized nations
don't turn hosts into prisoners.

But they'll always find a jailer.

I have ruled. I know there are men
for such dishonorable tasks.

Sir.

Governor.

I was an officer from the age of 16 years
and 15 days.

Not a single thought, good or bad,
passes through a soldier's head

that I don't know about
before he's aware of it himself.

What's more,

rest assured, I shall never be far.

You will find me...

here.

In your head.

Oh, stallions!

They have something other horses don't.

It's what the fillies go crazy for.

Say, Montholon,

how is the dictation coming along?

What do you mean, Gourgaud?

Doesn't your wife serve as an inkwell
to the imperial pen?

I will not be insulted in this way

by an eleventh-hour general.

The emperor made me a general
at Waterloo.

After his abdication.

Still, wasn't that backdated?

He rewarded my courage,

like he did at Brienne.

For a rescue...

that nobody remembers.

Not even him.

Among the faithful
who had followed the emperor into exile,

General Gourgaud was probably
the most engaging.

Gourgaud loved his emperor
like a jealous woman.

An aristocrat and rascal,

Montholon was more like a toady
than a general.

But his true passion was for intrigue.

There you are.

That's enough.

Please stop your "training" session.

This is Lieutenant Basil Heathcote,

the new aide-de-camp at Longwood.

Careful, his French is excellent.

This place has more corridors than rooms.

Longwood was a cattle barn

before applying for the role
of imperial prison cell.

It's the worst spot on the island...
windy, humid...

but also the easiest to monitor.

This door leads to Cipriani's room.

He's the emperor's butler.

Beyond that are His Majesty's apartments.

Aside from Cipriani,

no one is allowed to go through this door.
Is that clear?

Yes, Marechal.

The room next door
is the emperor's doctor's,

your compatriot, Doctor O'Meara.

You will take meals with him.

If General Bonaparte wishes to leave
the area reserved for him,

I am at his disposal.

I have orders to check on him twice a day.

Beyond that, I shall try to remain
as discreet as possible.

Discreet?

There's nothing more difficult
on this island.

I don't think this new governor
will cause us much trouble.

He looks fairly pathetic.

Don't be fooled, Montholon.

People's appearances are their first lie.

- Where are you going?
- Dinner at the Balcombes, sire.

Make them wait.

Your wife will join you there,

after dictation.

Very well.

A word of advice...

should you feel the urge
to return to Europe,

leave Montholon with me.

You'll find a husband easily.

It's easier to find a lover
than a husband, sire.

Yes. Come on...

The Governor and I have only just met,

like two dogs sniffing
each other's rear ends.

What if I told you I was leaving?

To him, this position
is the ultimate promotion.

Would you beg me to stay?

He'll finally make his mark on history.

You haven't answered me, sire.
I need to know.

Need?

Your only needs on this island
are those of your emperor.

I'm sure he sees me as a demigod.

But you are a demigod.

Whose will leaves none of you unmoved.

I hear you bequeath nothing
to the women you've loved.

Rest assured, Albine, I don't love you.

Thank God!

I was afraid of losing you.

You can only lose what is yours.

I own you in my lifetime.

you will dispossess me upon my death.

Of how much, sire?

Four to five hundred thousand francs.

But do your promises still hold value?

Why ask if the water's safe
if there's nothing else to drink?

PLANTATION HOUSE
GOVERNOR OF SAINT HELENA'S RESIDENCE

From that moment on,

Hudson Lowe saw every inhabitant
of the island as a potential suspect.

The very mention of the emperor
was punishable by law.

As for Longwood, it was turned into
a genuine stronghold,

thus earning it the nickname of Fort Lowe.

A semaphore system informed Lowe
of what was happening inside

and outside the compound.

Nobody was allowed out after sunset
without a password.

All French mail had to pass
through the Governor's office

to be screened by his chief of police,
Sir Thomas Reade.

HIS MAJESTY NAPOLEON I
EMPEROR OF FRANCE, SAINT HELENA

This fortress,
that reassured the Governor so much,

would become a keystone
in the emperor's plan.

For it would not protect
Hudson Lowe from Napoleon,

but Napoleon from Lowe.

Our captivity will amuse people.

Looking at this wonderful spread,
who'd have guessed we're all prisoners?

Don't you feel suspended in time?

In another world
where everything is possible.

Except for freedom.

In very few campaigns
are all joys satisfied, Gourgaud.

Apologies, sire.
The wind was keeping the children awake.

Children!

It's all about the children.

The emperor can wait.

Why not take Mrs. Montholon's example?

Your Majesty is making bad habits.

Employing the husband
doesn't grant you the wife.

I wasn't aware you'd reestablished
droit du seigneur.

Not yet.

But it's an excellent idea.

The city was made of wood,
the wind fierce.

All pumps had been removed.
It was an ocean of fire.

Sire, what if Moscow hadn't been
engulfed in flames?

Then peace in Moscow would've ended
my war campaigns.

Europe, having collapsed,
would simply need organizing.

A European code,

a common currency,

common weight measurements, common laws.

Anyone could travel anywhere
yet remain in common homeland.

Moscow in flames...

what a disaster!

To imagine Paris and its 14 centuries
going up in smoke...

I was in Russia to fight armed men,
not winter itself.

It was the cold, not the enemy,
that destroyed us.

And in Austerlitz,
as your canons fired at the ice, sire,

did that same cold
not serve your interests?

The cold does not wear a uniform.

Nor should history.

History belongs
to those who write it, Betsy.

Your version of Waterloo
must be very interesting.

Who is to blame for the defeat?

Grouchy's hesitations, perhaps?

What do you think, Betsy?

- I don't know.
- You should.

Everyone knows my orders weren't followed.

I believe, Your Majesty,

with all due respect,
that responsibility for defeat,

just as with victory,
lies with the leader.

Do you want to know
why I lost at Waterloo?

Cover your ears, Montholon.

Truth and history don't sit well together.

I lost...

because I got up too late.

Now I'm going to know all your secrets,
Boney!

Relax, Montholon.

"General Bonaparte."

Your Majesty, do you know him?

Give me those papers, Lieutenant.

And keep your letters.

I'll only read those addressed
to Napoleon the First.

My friends, the Balcombes!

The infrequency of our encounters
makes me miss my stay with you.

The shooting star of Saint Helena.

PARIS - 15 DECEMBER 1840

If I hadn't spotted her by chance
in the crowd,

at the Return of the Emperor's Ashes...

I would never have known.

Never known about the mystery
that had unfolded before my eyes

20 years earlier

and that would keep me spellbound
until daybreak.

Betsy!

You're a strange Englishman, Lieutenant.

Colonel.

Yes, of course. Apologies.

It's as if our memory
was frozen in time in 1821.

An imperial day,

under the July Monarchy?

That once seemed impossible.

What did you think of the ceremony,
Marechal?

Oh, you know... the emperor
would've preferred to rest peacefully

somewhere along the banks of the Seine.

This morning I thought
I spotted Betsy Balcombe.

It was her, was it not?

Do you know where she lives?

I believe she married a merchant.

A certain Mr. Abell.

Beyond that, I can't be of much help.

Have you seen Lowe since?

No.

Last I heard,
he'd lost his posting in Ceylon.

Since then, he's been living in London,
in squalor.

Don't feel sorry for him.

I don't mind people being my enemy.

We have a job to do, a duty to fulfill.

But there are some orders
one does not obey.

Are you alluding to the rumors
of a poisoning, Marechal?

The emperor died of a stomach ulcer.

That's what the autopsy reads,
it's what history will read.

"History is a set of lies
we have agreed upon."

Weren't those the emperor's words?

Really?

The autopsy report...

is it debatable, Marechal?

No.

Now, if you'll excuse me...

this ceremony has fatigued me.

No, please excuse me, Marechal.

I didn't mean to stir up
all these memories.

Napoleon's death mask?

The emperor's.

My wife cast the mold
from Saint Helena plaster.

In any case, Lieutenant... I mean Colonel...

I was very happy to see you again.

I know the emperor was very fond of you.

You think so?

I was so close to him...

for all that time...

Close? That you were.

Do you know what the emperor
called you in private?

His shadow.

The unease that I had perceived
in Bertrand's eyes

when I spoke of the autopsy report
on the emperor

had almost caused me to forget
the reason why I was there...

to find Betsy.

The rumors of poisoning
were on everyone's lips.

Why did Bertrand deny them?

SAINT HELENA - AUGUST 1816

Fifty francs a month for 12 horses,
it's not enough!

We need saddles and harnesses.

Just stop looking after them.

The stables are given nothing,

meanwhile, for one cow,

they're spending 50 Louis!

But Mrs. de Montholon does love cream!

Do not ask me or my wife
to justify ourselves!

Our position, fortune, reputation...
we've sacrificed it all for His Majesty.

You've merely sacrificed your creditors.

You didn't come here
purely for His Majesty,

but to get yourself noticed,

to gather material for a book
and to make money.

And what if that were true?

Don't you all keep a diary

where you make note of my every last fart?

Aren't you all expecting
to make a fortune?

If that's what His Majesty thinks of me,
I'd rather leave.

To leave this island
is to leave a battlefield.

Stop that music, Mrs. Montholon.

We all know your talents lie elsewhere.

You followed me into exile, and what?

Do you think the planets
are doing the sun a favor?

They orbit around it because they need it!

All you ever talk about is leaving.

Elba Island couldn't hold me.

Saint Helena won't hold me long either.

One must wait patiently.

Leave me be.

How do you put up with them?

There were more of them in Paris.

At least those ones remained loyal.

Loyal to your fortune, yes!

At least they're loyal to something.

They're competing over my will... So what?

I have been fighting all my life.

It's the only way to be powerful

and to stay that way.

If that is life's purpose,

you've certainly succeeded in yours.

- Is there any another?
- Many.

But you won't want to hear them,
Your Majesty.

Tell me...

did you really mean
to compare Saint Helena to Elba?

I always mean what I say.

Good Lord, it gets worse and worse.

I'm still center stage, even backstage.

In Corsica,

you were always center stage,
even as a young boy.

I didn't mean a word I said.

I just wanted to keep them, that's all.

We have 230 bottles of Bordeaux,

200 bottles of beer and cider,
600 liters of Corsican wine,

and a barrel of Vin de Constance.

Vin de Constance is reserved
for the emperor.

No need to include it in the budget.

Ah, Cipriani!

May I steal
a few sheets of paper from you?

Be my guest, Doctor.

I'm going down to Jamestown later.

I'll bring you some back.

Don't bother.
It's not paper we're lacking.

Don't worry. They won't hurt you.

My mission at Longwood gave me
countless opportunities to admire Betsy,

for she visited weekly.

But she only had eyes for him.

That's it.

See? It wasn't that difficult.

Oh look! The queen!

She's very different to the others.

However, at birth,
all the bees look the same.

You mean that any bee can...

The hive chooses one of its occupants,
inoculates it with a special nectar,

then it metamorphoses.

And that's that.

So, in the bee world,
I could have been a queen?

God forbid!

You could have been a common bumblebee.

Why, thank you.

Would you have hovered around me
had I been queen?

Do you know what happens to bumblebees,
my little Betsy?

I am not a child anymore.

It's high time you realized that.

Well?

I will accept none of
the proposed budget restrictions.

Sell my silver in town.

Very well.

I'll have the whole island
talking about it.

Break everything down
as small as possible.

People mustn't recognize
the imperial eagle.

Yes, sir.

Easy... it's me.

- Manners can save lives.
- So can loyalty.

- Have you got a new contact?
- What do you mean?

I found this in the hands
of the competition.

If you're not happy with my services,
tell me.

You've just doubled your pay, seaman.

Are you sure it's from him?

Yes, I recognize his handwriting.

Doctors make lousy spies.

Hey! And spies make lousy servants.

Give me that.

Apologies, Napoleon.

So, Lord Bathurst has his own governor
under surveillance.

Are they that scared?

Make sure O'Meara's report
falls into Lowe's hands.

An English enemy of Lowe's gossiping
across England would do me wonders.

It would put a crown of thorns on my head.

What if it ruined O'Meara's career?

Stop seeing me for things I am not, Cipriani.

Here.

A few weeks later,

Lowe got his hands on
O'Meara's report to Lord Bathurst.

Bathurst was Lowe's immediate superior.

He'd appointed Lowe himself.

And now he was having him spied on.

It would take Lowe more than two years
to have O'Meara ousted.

Two long years during which
we felt as if the world had forgotten us.

What makes you think you'll die here?

A clairvoyant.

She predicted I'd die
the same age as Joséphine.

Joséphine died at 51, you do the math.

I have four years left.

Most likely from a stomach ulcer,
like my father.

My lucky charm.

The first Napoleon coin ever minted.

The first Napoleon.

It's a seafaring legend.

We both step around the coin

and take the other's place.

Yes?

Now pick up the coin.

- What are you going to do?
- Go on...

I've done my part.

It's your turn to do yours.

A valid reason.

Find that reason
and you can leave this island.

A warm bath, Your Majesty?

Find that reason
and you can leave this island.

At ease, Lieutenant.

That's the first time I've said that
to an English officer.

Don't do it again,
I might get a taste for it.

What were you reading?

An article on the history
of the Iron Mask, sire... sir.

Louis XIV's alleged twin brother?

Yes. Richelieu makes reference to it
in his memoirs.

A man once showed me, in all seriousness,

that I was the direct descendant
of this Man in the Iron Mask,

and, consequently the legitimate heir
of Louis XIII.

Is that true?

See? You almost believed me.

Such is man's passion for the fabulous
that he's prepared to sacrifice reason.

Come.

Let's take a walk.

Your island is poorly defended.

He had just reconnoitered the field,
as he did before every battle.

All he had to do now was give his orders

and wait for the perfect moment.

I felt exiled myself.

I believe that without Betsy's return,
I'd never have held on.

Her stay in London
had seemed endless to me.

The day after their return
to Saint Helena,

the Balcombes were invited
to share the emperor's table.

Albine de Montholon was expecting,

a strategic pregnancy,
which soon became a burden for her.

In England, the Prince Regent's
own brother defends Napoleon.

Gossip in favor of the emperor
is growing louder.

Not only in Europe,
but also in the New World.

The newspapers are full of letters
denouncing the Governor.

No one likes him, not even his wife.

This is wonderful.

Wasn't Betsy supposed to stay in England?

She's the one who insisted on coming back.

So, no teasing...

today?

A year of exile, far from the man I love,

is that not enough suffering to earn it?

Love belongs neither in the past
nor the future, Betsy.

But in the present.

The present is heavy and sick.

You love me, I know it.

The emperor does not love you.

You thwart his plans.

Acting on this passion is not
what he intends for his final act.

When he saw you this morning...

so...

beautiful...

he was almost angry at you.

For becoming a woman?

Do not choose this path, Betsy.

It is laden with women
who mean nothing to me,

like the one watching us
at this very moment.

There is no love in my bed.

Only favors and bills of exchange.

Is that what you want?

There, there...

I'll teach you to ride Hope,

and next year,
you'll win the race at Deadwood.

Try and imagine Lowe's anger
when he hears the news.

Come on.

Do you want to stay on this island
for ten years? I don't.

He's healthy as a horse.

He survived the retreat from Russia.

Let's end this now,

before he takes the little English virgin
and disinherits us.

You've started, haven't you?

Unless it's the British.

Isn't it traditional
for them to shoot first?

Are you asleep?

No.

Great men never sleep.

I'm trying to become one.

Don't try too hard, figlio mio.

It's a sickness one is never cured of.

How can a man
who had the world in his hands

accept becoming nothing?

Not nothing.

But himself, at long last.

You've lived your whole life
like a history book.

It's time you started living.

Napoleon is dead.

Long live Naboulio.

Naboulio!

He feels very distant.

Nonsense!

I saw him again this afternoon,
with Betsy, by the paddock.

You pay me to see everything,
Your Majesty.

Do you love her?

See, you can speak plainly
when you want to.

These potions would have no more effect
if you took them for me.

Feel any better, Your Highness?

It's not bad, that Vin de Constance.

You ride as poorly as you dress.

I ride for my pleasure,
not that of others.

The emperor respects you.

You must be more adept than me.

How much will you squeeze him for?

I had a very low opinion of you,
which I thought exaggerated,

but I far underestimated reality.

Don't tell me you love him.

Then things are much worse
than I'd imagined.

As a courtesan, you amused me.

As a lovestruck woman, I pity you.

Have you seen him?
He's fat and losing his hair.

You're in love with love, child.

Whereas I'm in his bed.

And it won't be squeaking for long.

Have you forgotten what it is
to simply love?

Love is like virginity.
Once it bleeds, it's lost.

Once the emperor's had yours,
he'll discard you with his bloody sheets.

Think about it.

Which woman lasted the longest?

Who did he love the most?

Joséphine.

She was older than him.

He likes women with experience.

Not so much their conversation,

and never their desire for exclusivity!
Are you prepared to share him?

Are you prepared to lose him?

PARIS - 15 DECEMBER 1840

Betsy? Betsy Balcombe?

That little pest
had the soul of a courtesan.

You should know, Heathcote,
you had a front-row seat.

Her feelings for Napoleon were genuine.

It was blatant...

from the front row.

Either way, I don't have her address.

All I know is she owns one of
the biggest plantations in Baton Rouge,

in Louisiana in America.

Have you seen Lowe since?

No.

I wish I'd seen his face
when the cortège passed.

He is here.

The Minister of Police
alerted us of his presence

in a little hotel on Rue aux Fèves.

Quite a change from Plantation House.

In any case, I'm not about to forget
the anniversary.

The idea of a plot to help
the emperor escape surely obsessed him?

We know he's in contact
with the French consulate in Brazil,

who tracked down the exiled Bonapartists.

And yet, Rio is where
the plot first originated.

CORCOVADO, BRAZIL - 1817

The United States of America's principles
are akin to yours.

Even if this escape plan succeeds,

I'll only find freedom in anonymity,

and anonymity only in death.

But, sire, I...

That just leaves suicide.

Yes...

a solution fit for cowards.

Or the desperate.

Perhaps.

But no queen, no hive.

Don't forget, the hive disowned the queen.

I don't want to reign anymore.

I want to be a normal bee.

There it is.

What?

Your reason for leaving the island.

To be a normal bee.

But for that, the emperor must die...

Push, ma'am!

It's a girl, sire.

My congratulations, Montholon.

Ladies...

A little gift for my good man Basil!

What's going on?

The Vin de Constance.

Someone's trying to poison the emperor.

Lie down, I'll go and get O'Meara.

I don't trust him.

You deal with her.

Basil...

I have a favor to ask.

No questions asked.

Okay, you can go now.

Are you sure?

I said no questions.

I've been poisoned.

Arsenic.

Who's bought arsenic from you recently?

Who hasn't?

Because of the rats,
the whole island is after it.

Do you know an antidote?

For small doses, yes.

You can just stop.

But you are afflicted with an illness
I am powerless against.

What illness?

What your father died of.

A stomach ulcer...

Why?

Three days later, Cipriani died,
supposedly from acute appendicitis.

What do you think it was?

Ask O'Meara. I never trusted him.

He was part English, part doctor,
you never knew which... That said,

the emperor must have trusted him,
having paid him 100,000 francs.

Did the emperor know
someone was trying to poison him?

Economically, he knew the English
had no better option.

That said,

as for suspecting us...

he would have told me.

I was his favorite, you know?

May I ask you an embarrassing question?

Nothing embarrasses me.
I've heard everything.

What were the real reasons
for you cutting ties with the emperor?

There was no cutting of ties.
It was all part of the plan.

The plan?

What plan?

It happened just after Cipriani's death.

The emperor was crushed.
He stayed in his room for weeks.

He wouldn't see anyone.

Until that famous day...

Your Majesty, Sir Hudson Lowe,
Governor of the island.

General.

There is a shortage of food and fodder
on Saint Helena

for the eighth time since my arrival.

And it won't be the last.

- Do you know the reason why?
- We have to import everything.

The reason is,
Sir Lowe doesn't know how to govern.

He digs trenches, builds towers,

he's always ready to do battle,

but he fails to build a warehouse.

You've no doubt been instructed
to kill me slowly.

It's not us.

You're killing yourself,
by refusing to see a doctor.

O'Meara was excellent and you fired him.

You're a lieutenant general,

and yet you fulfill your duties
like a sentry.

Your last escape led to
60,000 deaths at Waterloo.

You'll understand why
I'm taking precautions.

The wrong ones.

To control Saint Helena,

you need only control its valleys.

A dozen posts,
which change every fortnight.

You could send back a thousand men
and return to Bathurst's fold.

It's a wonder Lord Bathurst doesn't just
make you governor of the island.

I didn't do too badly on Elba.

It now has roads, bridges,
and a thriving industry.

If they disapproved of my conduct,

I would have been replaced long ago.

I faithfully execute my instructions--

Your instructions!

All you talk about are your instructions!

But executioners have instructions too,
so execute, let's be done with it!

Fortunately, all of that washes over me.

I'm glad, they say it brings good luck.

I did not come here to be insulted.

Then you needn't have come.

You make me laugh.

Enjoy it. It won't last long.

In a few years' time,
you'll be cast into oblivion.

You'll end up alone with your regrets.

What are you trying to tell me, General?

That the emperor faked his illness

to convince the governor
he wasn't strong enough to escape?

I'm afraid... I'm sworn to secrecy.

Secrecy didn't concern you when you
were feeding information about Longwood

to Sir Hudson Lowe in front of me.

Was that part of the plan too?

Absolutely.

I only ask to be convinced.

Do I have your word as an officer?

You're getting on everyone's nerves,
Gourgaud!

You're jealous of the Montholons
then have the indecency to tell me!

Is voicing my honest opinion my fault?

It isn't wise to voice every thought!

Sometimes one must pretend

and perfect the art of living with others.

You want to leave? Then leave!

I'm not stopping you!

I'll see you in the next life.

To be able to send
some messages to France...

And I think that's...

The emperor's plan involved me

pretending to be a traitor
and spreading slander,

so that my departure from Saint Helena
would not arouse suspicion.

As planned, I was granted passage onto
one of the first ships heading to England.

But Ascension Island
was where I would actually meet them.

You don't believe me?

This is the landing plan
the Americans got from me.

Van Hogendorp gave it back to me in 1821.

Recognize the handwriting?

This isn't possible!

The night of the landing

Plantation House was hosting a ball
for the Governor's birthday.

It is good for a mother
to marry off her daughter young.

Keeping her close will age you.

Especially you, my dear,
with your fragile health.

No, please continue.

I don't feel well. I think I'll go home.

- Nothing serious, I hope?
- No.

- Shall I come with you?
- No, I'll be fine.

Have fun on my behalf.

Your Excellency, a most splendid evening.

Thank you.

We are ready, Marechal.

They are on the beach, sire.

Ever since Fontainebleu,
I've known our farewells are never final.

Sire, they are waiting for you.

Sire,

these men are risking their lives for you.

Van Hogendorp.

Ali... go and fetch me the aide-de-camp.

You called for me, sir?

That's correct, Lieutenant.

Buccaneers are going to attempt
to kidnap me.

Go and warn the governor.

- Kidnap you?
- Yes?

They are landing, right now, on Sandy Bay.

I'll lock myself in here
and defend myself.

Good evening.

I said good evening, Lieutenant.

The following day, in his report,

Sir Hudson Lowe informed Lord Bathurst

that some "slave traders"
had tried to land on the island.

I loved you from
the first moment I saw you, sire.

On horseback, you were
the most majestic being on Earth.

Up close, I must have looked smaller.

More human, mostly.

I found it hard to make out your face

with the sunlight dazzling my eyes.

It was raining heavily, Betsy.

Really?

That smile...

The very same smile
that bewitched me, sire.

No portrait of the emperor

could ever resemble the man
I fell in love with that day.

I'll never be the man I was.

If ever you think of the emperor,

you won't be thinking of me.

If ever you think of
the little girl I used to be,

it won't be me you're thinking of either.

Betsy was carrying my heart off with her.

I had never been able
to speak to her of my feelings.

I would have to wait another 20 years
for the opportunity to arise again.

They managed to land despite the mist.

You could have escaped.

Why have me warned, General?

He who escapes admits to being a prisoner.

Where would I go?

And for how long?

I have an arrangement to propose to you.

An arrangement?

What trap are you laying out now?

The only one that'll save you
from your friends.

Once I'm dead,

which won't be long now,

how will you be received in England?

As a hero.

Guarding you is no easy task.

If executioners are heroes,
why do they wear masks?

You will embody
the nation's guilty conscience

and they will not rest
until you disappear.

Your friend Bathurst will be
the first to abandon you

and you won't even receive a pension.

That's where my money will be useful.

What money?

The money you'll get...

if you agree to my arrangement.

I wish to be buried

in an unmarked grave
on the banks of the Seine,

among the French people I so dearly loved.

You will not have to transgress
any of your sacrosanct instructions.

I will die on this island.

However...

you will not bury me here.

Pack your bags, Albine.

You're leaving on the next boat.

He didn't get rid of me that way...

My departure cost him dearly.

The best years of my youth...

Don't you think that deserves
a third of his will?

I was the most...

knowledgeable of his mistresses,
as he'd often tell me.

The most skillful...

The most foolish, in hindsight.

How could I have blamed my departure
on my rivalry

with that little English virgin?

Napoleon sent me away,

like he did with O'Meara

and Gourgaud.

And Betsy.

All those close friends
leaving Longwood in 1818...

You think that was pure coincidence?

I don't know.

Twenty years later, I still don't.

What I do know is, Napoleon...

decided nothing without analyzing
each consequence of his actions.

Something happened on Saint Helena
after we left.

Something Napoleon
never wanted us to witness.

If you organized your own escape
in the utmost secrecy

and everything was going to plan,

why would you sabotage it?

Answer that question
and you're emperor, Colonel.

I thought that inheriting his fortune
would fill this void.

But young Betsy was right.

I was prepared to share him,
but not to lose him.

Such strong regrets... who knows...

perhaps that's what love is?

Have you heard from your husband?

Charles...

In five years, my ex-husband managed
to burn all the emperor had left him.

He's since found a new crusade...
"Napoleon III."

Their coup in Boulogne
last October failed miserably.

And now Charles is with his future emperor

in the only place
he can still avoid his creditors...

Prison.

CHÂTEAU DE HAM - 15 DECEMBER 1840

Who is most loyal to the emperor?

Those who help the Bourbons
restore their glory

by organizing the return of his remains

or those who served 20 years for trying
to return a Bonaparte to the throne?

How can they put Gourgaud's face
on the front page of the papers

like a hero...

when he betrayed the emperor?

I hoped that when they opened the tomb

in the presence of the dead,
he would've knelt, demanding forgiveness

but no...

What about you, General?

Why weren't you present
for the exhumation?

You weren't in prison
when the expedition left.

Were you worried that it would have
an aftertaste of arsenic wine?

I'm not saying it never crossed my mind...

just like everyone else.

But would I tell the Governor
the emperor wanted an autopsy

if I'd poisoned him?

In 1819, France declared
the emperor's exile to be permanent.

That is what hastened the end.

SAINT HELENA - DECEMBER 1819

I am carrying a message
from the Governor to General Bonaparte.

Could you pass him this note?

My orders are to ignore any letters
not addressed to Emperor Napoleon.

Over the following months,

Napoleon refused to yield
to Lowe's demands,

and whatever the weather

my duty was to catch sight
of the emperor every day.

This proved to be far from easy

because his health was failing
and he was often in bed.

Once, I was able to catch sight
of the outline of a man

in the dining room wearing a cocked hat.

If the French usually
wear their hats while eating,

then it was probably Bonaparte dining.

Eventually, I was able
to see him very clearly.

I was around 70 paces from him.

He had lost a great deal of weight.

He was totally unrecognizable.

I wasn't able to see General Bonaparte.

I had no means of ascertaining
his presence at Longwood.

Only the activity of his servants
seemed to indicate that he was there.

In leaving one year before his death,

I became an unwitting participant

in the emperor's plan.

In the months after you left Saint Helena,

the emperor's health rapidly declined.

SAINT HELENA - 5 MAY 1821

The false apostles all left.

Leaving Bertrand and I
to his last defense.

Why did the emperor refuse
to let me see him in his final months?

Out of pride?

Why forbid my visits?

Out of modesty.

Why go for a year without seeing a doctor

when one is ill?

Out of mistrust.

What happened at Longwood after 1819

that would explain all those departures?

O'Meara, Gourgaud, Albine, the Balcombes,

and half the staff.

Weariness.

Your ex-wife sees it quite differently.

She believes the emperor
was ridding himself of his entourage

before they became embarrassing witnesses.

Your governor was the one
picking off the French,

down to the last one.

He even refused an engraving
on the emperor's gravestone.

He and his wife...

pillaged Longwood after we left.

They even desecrated Cipriani's grave.

The butler?

Cipriani vanished from the cemetery,

as well as the death records
with his name on.

They wanted to bring him back
with the emperor, but he wasn't there.

They told me.

Why would Hudson Lowe
make Cipriani's body disappear?

Whatever they write in their newspapers,

the emperor's favorite...

was me.

I sacrificed everything for him.

Even my own wife.

What had caused Hudson Lowe
to come to Paris

the day of the Return of the Ashes?

Was he paying tribute to his conqueror,
thumbing his nose at fate,

or simply savoring the pleasure
of being the only one to hold the secret?

Are you sure you want to go here?
It's a cutthroat place.

He who escapes admits to being a prisoner.

I will die on this island.

However...

you will not bury me here.

You will bury Cipriani in my place.

You have him to hand.

Upon burial, I'll have him dressed
in my uniform

in case France
should ever reclaim my body.

Like a sleepwalker, my steps
led me to Les Invalides,

through the veterans
who had chosen to bivouac there.

They had taken part
in the emperor's great campaigns.

Whereas I had done Saint Helena.

I needed to approach the emperor
one last time.

His door was guarded by a single man.

The faithful Ali was watching over
the emperor in death

just as he had in life.

In his eyes,

I was no longer the Longwood aide-de-camp
demanding an audience.

I was simply a man
asking to pay his respects.

I said good evening, Lieutenant.

Who could have been in Napoleon's room
the night of the landing?

Something happened on Saint Helena
after we left.

Something Napoleon
never wanted us to witness.

During the last two years,

no one outside the inner circle
had been able to approach the emperor.

Only one battle matters, Governor.

The last one.

Cipriani vanished from the cemetery.

as well as the death records
with his name on.

Ask O'Meara.

The emperor must have trusted him,
having paid him 100,000 francs.

Take my final breath

and breathe at last.

Cipriani, my friend,

thank you.

LOUISIANA, A FEW MONTHS LATER

Her daughter's name was Letitia.

And she was as dark as Corsica.

Why was my mind trying
to gather so much evidence?

Why was it stubbornly
turning its back on reason?

Was it, as Napoleon used to say,

"man's passion for the fabulous"
working within me?

Did my mind want to prove
to that part of my being,

still poisoned by reason,

that all this was not merely a dream?

Who, then, was this Mr. Abell

whom I had so easily
started calling Abeille,

so delighted I was by the metaphor?

I wanted to believe that the emperor
didn't die stupidly at Saint Helena.

Had he won his final battle?

Had he died a free man?

My mind still refuses
to answer that question today.

Choosing would mean accepting
to become... reasonable.

And I wish the limits of that prison
on no man.

Cipriani's body has never been found

Subtitle translation by: Lucy Harford