All language subtitles for Napoleon (2002) 4

Ah.

Ah.

It's us, Sire.

And it's you. You're here at last.

Ah, gentlemen.

The King of Rome's first charge,

and as you see, he's chosen
to attack the heights

like I did in Austerlitz.

Alas, Sire, Austerlitz
is far away.

The defeat of our armies...

Not a defeat. A retreat.

Certainly, Sire.

But thousands of our men
are still in Russia.

Without you there,
what can they do?

I came back because the affairs
of France demanded it,

but I have Murat at the head
of our troops and I know him.

He will save all
that can be saved.

The men he brings home
will stay home forever.

As it is nearly Christmas,

I have decided to give a present
to all the French people,

and most of all to
you, my dearest.

The wars are over.

I declare peace to the world.

Bravo, Sire. Bravo.

Company.

Present arms.

This way, please.

The fact that the people of Paris

adore their beloved
Empress more each day

is a great joy for us all.

That's not what she
says in her letters.

No? Oh, her natural
discretion, I expect.

Your Excellency would
agree that it's tactless

for a woman to acknowledge
that she is irresistible.

Humility is hardly
a prominent virtue

in a Princess of the
House of Austria.

Wouldn't you agree?

Let us not forget that
the Empress Marie-Louise

has become completely French,

like most of Europe.

Only France is French,
Monsieur de Caulaincourt.

The other countries
are French by force.

So it's temporary.

Come now, Metternich.

No need for rituals.

The Austrian ambassador
is at home here.

But first of all, tell me
how dear old Francois is.

His Majesty the Emperor
of Austria is very well.

And you, Sire?

I couldn't be better,
ever since I declared

peace to the world.

An admirable phrase, Sire.

- I'm glad you like it.
- It's not just a phrase.

In that case, Sire,

you are bound to
accept the conditions

that Emperor Francois has
asked me to relay to you.

- Conditions?
- Yes.

What we expect in
exchange for this peace

that France has asked for.

Perhaps I have been
unclear, Metternich.

I'm not asking for
peace, I'm making it.

In fact, I'm imposing it.

I'm afraid France is in
no position to impose

anything at all, Sire.

Everyone is aware
that you have lost

most of your troops in Russia.

You dare order me to
give up my conquest?

And to restore the old boundaries?

So hundreds of
thousands of Frenchmen

will have suffered and
died for nothing?

You're insane. Your
Emperor is insane.

Your Majesty is free to do
as he pleases, of course.

Oh, thank you so much.

But if France refuses to subscribe

to the conditions we propose...

Austria unfortunately
will be obliged

to declare war on France.

- Austria declare war on me?
- On me?

It can't be.

Have you forgotten
whom I've married?

Come over here, Let me
show you something.

It only took me three months to
build up the Grand Army again.

This is one of my new regiments.

Your new toy soldiers, you mean.

They are children, Sire.

You're wrong to disparage them.

They are called the Marie-Louise,
named after my wife.

Because of her, my son has
Austrian blood in his veins,

so if your Emperor
declares me war,

he will be rising up against
his own daughter and grandson.

Rest assured that Emperor
Francois has not forgotten

that he gave you his daughter
as Empress of France.

But he can and will act solely
in the interests of his people.

It's not in Austria's
interests to attack France.

Prussia, Russia and England are
using you, and that's a fact.

I married Marie-Louise for peace,

and obviously I've been
betrayed. It is not surprising.

French people have
thought all along

that they were getting
another Marie Antoinette.

I was told they had
come to love her.

You were misinformed.

Nobody loves her.
No one except me.

Take this answer
back to your master:

of Austria dares to
declare war on me,

I will reduce Vienna to rubble.

I swear it.

Then you are lost, Sire.

You are lost.

Fire.

Company, pull back.

So you're deserting.

Sire, I know you do not mean that.

Marshall Murat was
informing Your Majesty

that he's going to his kingdom
of Naples for reinforcements.

His kingdom? I made you king.

Of I fall, you fall.

And I don't believe a word about
your damned reinforcements.

You have negotiated your
departure with the Austrians.

What are you implying?

I'm not implying, I'm
saying it to your face.

Murat, there is only one way,

just one, for you to
convince me of your loyalty.

Come back from Naples with troops

who are ready to give
their lives for me.

Sire,

I do have to take my leave.

This wound of mine...

Your wound?

Yesterday, you said it
was a mere scratch.

I won't hold you back.

Well, gentlemen.

Any more candidates for desertion?

No one is indispensable
to me, you know.

Sire, Sire. We love you.

Those who must go leave
with broken hearts.

For those who stay,
we only ask you

for one thing: the truth.

We have lost the war, haven't we?

Lost the war? Because the
enemy has a few more troops?

I have my reserves, easily
enough for a counter-attack.

What was that? General.
What did you say?

He was saying, Sire, a
counter-attack is impossible.

We can barely hold on to
our positions as it is.

Perhaps an orderly retreat,
to defend France...

France?

Fight on our own soil?

France must be defended, Sire.

She is in mortal danger.

Go away.

I have nothing to give you.

I've got nothing left but my hens.

And if you take them...

You can keep your hens.

We need horses, two
or three will do.

- You've got horses.
- They're right under your asses.

We need farm horses

to pull our cannons
out of the mud.

And if you have any sons
to lend us a hand...

I had two sons.

But that monster Napoleon
got them both killed.

I will make him suffer for it,

if I have to follow him to hell.

Sire. We're wasting time.

Sire?

He called you Sire?

You're...

The monster.

No. Leave her.

What were your sons called?

The oldest was Gervais.

The little one, Clement.

He wasn't even 16.

Gervais and Clement.

We cannot let them
die for nothing.

- They died for you.
- But you're nothing.

You're less than
that pile of dung.

You have a right to refuse.

But if you lend us your horses,

to pull out our
cannons of the mud,

their shells will
avenge your boys.

What's the use?

The enemy is all over France.

Everyone says we're finished.

No, no.

We're never finished. Never.

All France is fighting
against the enemy.

Your sons gave their life so
this country might survive.

I'm giving my life for it.

And you cannot give up a horse?

One of you come to
the stables with me.

Madame, it's Joseph.

The Emperor's brother.

Open the door, please.

You've had news of His Majesty?

Yes. Well, no.

It's all terribly confusing.

But you must leave
Paris right away.

What?

The enemy is at the
gates of the city.

All of them. The Russians, the
Austrians, the Prussians.

Please. Take the child and flee.

Flee? Of I leave, the
population will think

they have been abandoned.

And their despair will
cause more damage

than the enemy's cannons.

I swore to wait here for
Napoleon to return.

Otherwise, the
Empire will be lost.

Madame, it's an order
from the Emperor,

dated the 8th of February 1814.

"Of the enemies march in Paris

"with troops that
cannot be resisted..."

which is the present
situation, Madame...

"then send my wife and child away.

"I would rather know that my
son was drowned in the Seine

"than in the hands of
France's enemies."

You recognise His
Majesty's writing?

Yes, but not his mind.

Napoleon cannot want
his son's death.

Only as a last resort,
if escape is impossible.

But it will be possible.

I've arranged everything
for your departure.

What about him? Where's he?

At the head of his
armies, I suppose.

His armies. What's left of them.

- Go.
- Find the little King of Rome.

Get him ready for a journey.

Where have you
arranged for me to go?

To Blois, on the
banks of the Loire.

Very well. But I warn you,
I shall not stay there.

I shall join the Emperor
wherever he is.

He cannot bear to be parted
from his son for long.

And you, Monsieur,
can I count on you

to assure the defence of
Paris till the bitter end?

I hope you do not doubt
my courage, Madame.

- We need the horses.
- It is very urgent...

I've already told you, I
have none to give you.

- Please, Sire.
- I don't want to force you.

You can have them.

Ok. Thanks.

They have agreed to
give us fresh horses.

We can be in Paris in an hour.

They are not shouting
"Long live the Emperor."

It's the first time.

Well, Sire...

- General Beliard?
- What are you doing here?

Marshall Marmont's orders, Sire.

I have come to find
housing for the troops

who will evacuate the capital.

Evacuate the capital?

Are you mad, General?

My brother Joseph is in charge
of the defence of Paris.

He has signed the surrender,

and has given the order
to withdraw the troops.

Even the army has given up.

But the people of Paris
have never let me down.

I will call them to take up arms,

and drive out the enemy.
The Battle of Paris.

There will be no
Battle of Paris, Sire.

It's too late. It's over.

They've signed the surrender,

and Your Majesty is
honour-bound to respect it.

France has given her word, Sire.

Even my bodyguard deserts me.

Sire?

The Cossacks have entered Paris.

The people will agree to any
treason to protect the city.

They even applauded
the Allies' decree

demanding your abdication...

abdication, under
these conditions.

I don't need to read it

to know the conditions
are unacceptable.

Unappealing, perhaps,
Sire, but unacceptable...

is a word that is no
longer in our vocabulary.

You have to leave France.

But they are granting you
sovereignty of the Isle of Elba.

It's off the coast of Italy.

I know the place. It's a pebble.

Napoleon, king of a
pebble. Grotesque.

- Sire.
- There's a Polish lady who...

Countess Walewska.

I gave everyone else so much,
and they all abandoned me.

And I refused her the one
thing she desired the most,

the sovereignty of
her beloved Poland,

and yet she has come.

Shall I bring her
in, Your Majesty?

Yes.

No.

No, I can't see her.

Tell her to go away.

Of they hear I have received her,

they could use it as an excuse

to stop me seeing Marie-Louise
and my son again.

My conquerors are very
petty, Caulaincourt.

Marie will understand.

I'm sure she will.

I'm sure she will.

What has been decreed for him?

Exile.

Forever?

It's out of his hands, Madame.

But one can hardly imagine
the Emperor's agreeing

to be a phantom king for long.

They were allowing him

to assemble a royal
court... of sorts.

Does that mean I'd be
able to visit him?

Oh, yes.

Perhaps not right away, of course.

But...

Madame...

the Emperor, he...

he...

Madame, the Emperor loves y...

He loves me.

Give this to the Emperor.

Explain that it's not
because I'm angry with him,

but because he might need it.

I know his enemies.
They are mine too.

They will strip him of everything,
introduce him to nothing.

Madame.

My sweet Marie-Louise.

I love you more than
anything in the world.

Know that my
misfortunes trouble me

only because they make you suffer.

Kiss your son for me.

Farewell, dear Marie-Louise.

I am yours.

Your Majesty?

Your Majesty... oh my God.

Your Majesty.

Help. Help.

Sire...

Go get Dr Ivan. Rush.

Sire? What's happening?

Drink. He's poisoned himself.

Sire?

Yes.

Sire. Sire.

Sire. Sire.

These beans remind me of Corsica.

So does the sun.

Many things here
remind me of Corsica.

It's not so bad here.

We are so far away.

Far from what?

Army tents in the mud, carriages
that people throw bombs at?

Men who have betrayed you?

Women who have been unfaithful?

Ah, Napoleon, judging
from what I've seen,

ruling over France brings
very little happiness.

Ruling over this island
brings even less.

- Ruling?
- But you're not ruling here.

You're like a landowner,

what you would have been in
Corsica if you had stayed.

It was my father who
wanted me to be a soldier.

He sent me to school in France,

without asking me
if I wanted to go.

You would have left anyway.

Our island was too small for you.

You found even France too small,

you had to make it
bigger and bigger.

Not to spread our borders,
but to spread our ideas.

Our love of liberty, our
audacity, our youth.

That's what I wanted to
spread throughout Europe.

And Europe didn't want your gift.

Or maybe the colour of
the ribbon you tied

was too much the colour of blood.

It was England that
didn't want it.

The English plotted everything,
right from the start.

Of it had not been for them,

I would never have
fought with Spain.

The Czar would have
stayed my friend.

And Austria would
not have forgotten

that I was a part of the family.

I'm sure it's the English who
are stopping my wife and son

from coming to see me.

What makes you think she
wants to come here?

Your wife's become Austrian again.

You've seen the last
of her and your son.

It's a beautiful day.

You should try to enjoy
yourself a little.

- That signora is not dancing.
- Do your duty, Cambronne.

But, Sire, she's the
fishmonger's wife.

What of it? You're the
son of a wood merchant.

Would you give me the pleasure
of this dance, madame?

That's Latin. It means:

"Napoleon is happy
wherever he is."

My new motto.

Sire, Cipriani has just
arrived from Genoa.

At last, you're here.

No one suspected anything?

I introduced myself
as your steward,

saying I'd come to buy goods that
can't be found on the island.

As soon as you talk
business with the Genoese,

they drop their guard.

I have good news and
bad news for you.

The good news is very good, but
the bad is worse than ever.

Start with the bad news.

The English don't believe

you've resigned yourself
to ending your days here.

The fact that the Island of Elba

is only three or four days
by sea from the French coast

keeps them awake at night.

They are planning to send
you to another island.

They cannot do that.

The Island of Elba
was assigned to me

by an international treaty,
signed by all the powers.

The English don't care.

They plan to capture you

and smuggle you in
secret to St. Helena.

St. Helena?

It's in the middle of the
south Atlantic Ocean,

thousands of miles from
all inhabited land.

What's the good news?

It had better be good,
to make up for that one.

I think Your Majesty
will appreciate it.

According to my informers,

the situation in France is
turning very bad, very fast.

After welcoming the Russians
and Austrians as liberators,

the people can't
stand them any more.

The Emperor was right
to want to gut them,

is what they're saying.

As for King Louis XVIII, opinion
is unanimous. They all hate him.

So many Parisians have thrown
away their royalist badges

that the main sewer is blocked up.

What I wouldn't give to see it.

What they wouldn't
give to see you, Sire.

They want you back,
with all their hearts.

I have a brig and a
schooner at my disposal.

Small ships, but built for speed.

We might manage to slip
past the English fleet...

if the night is dark enough.

Come on.

Inform General
Bertrand we have news.

Join me after the
ball, both of you.

Will you give me the
honour of this dance?

You have been crying,
my little Fanny.

Of Bertrand has
been unkind to you,

just tell me and I
will punish him.

I'll make you my mistress.

I have been crying, Sire.

But my husband has nothing to do
with it. It's because of you.

Me?

Yes, Sire.

When I think of the grief
I am going to cause you.

I have received a letter from
France, from Caulaincourt.

He should have written to
Your Majesty directly,

instead of choosing
me as a messenger

to bear you such sad news.

Nothing's happened to
my son or my wife?

Josephine?

Sire, she's dead.

She's dead.

At first they thought
she had caught a chill,

but it was far worse than that.

Purulent pharyngitis.

Madame de Beauharnais put
up a very brave fight

for several days, but the
fever got the better of her.

Caulaincourt says that
her last words were:

Bonaparte.

Bonaparte.

Bonaparte.

Bonaparte.

Bonaparte.

Sire.

Sire?

Sire?

Cambronne.

Fetch the almanack.

I want to know the date of
the next lunar eclipse.

Gentlemen, I want the brig
L'Iconstant and the schooner

moored in a quiet bay
outside the port.

Have them repainted to
look like English ships.

Yes, Sire.

Row. Row.

Row. Row.

Men, haul her up.

Come on, men.

Come on. Come on.

Sire. We live close by,

and my wife always has a
good fish soup on the fire.

I'd be honoured if you'd wait

for the rest of your
army at our house.

That is my army.

That's it?

That's all the men you have

to drive out the King and
his bunch of scoundrels?

Listen, if you need more
help, take my sons.

They're only 9 and 10,

but I'm sure they could
still be useful.

I have a blunderbuss in my cabin.

I'll get it.

You will not need a weapon.

I intend to reclaim my throne

without spilling a single
drop of French blood.

Long live the Emperor.

Monsieur de Talleyrand-
Perigord, Prince de Benevent,

begs Your Majesty to
grant him an audience.

Prince de Benevent, and what else?

Kindly oblige me by renouncing
those preposterous titles

bestowed on you by the usurper.

What's that?

A dispatch, Sire, from the
head of the telegram service,

and judging by the
state he was in,

it must be of some importance.

In a state?

Was I in a state
during all those years

that the odious Bonaparte spent
loitering in this armchair?

I awaited my hour, and
my hour has come,

and this armchair is mine now.

It's exceedingly
uncomfortable, actually.

I shall have it upholstered.

Do you know what's in
this dispatch of yours?

I do not, Sire.

Bonaparte has landed in Provence.

Take it to the Minister of War.
He will know what to do.

Have you heard the rumour?

Napoleon has escaped from Elba.

The English were fools to
leave him on an island.

A man like that should be
locked up in a fortress.

One will need to catch him
before one locks him up.

That won't be a problem
with a regiment.

I'm on my way to
the King right now

to offer to take charge of this.

I will bring that madman
back in an iron cage.

Don't you think it would be better

to bring him back dead, on a cart?

- It would be wasteful.
- Parisians adore sensations.

They would love seeing him
in a cage, gripping the bars

and roaring like the
bloodthirsty beast he is.

I'm curious, Ney.

Why such hatred after
so much devotion?

I could ask you the same question.

I only ever served him.

Changing masters is natural for
a servant. But you loved him.

People say one of the reasons

he tried to kill himself
in Fontainebleau

was because you'd deserted him.

Nonsense. I was not the
only one to take my leave.

He lost almost everyone

who believed in him
and followed him.

And what if he seduces
them once again?

With what? Napoleon
is a wanted man now.

Alone and on the run,

with nothing but the
boots on his feet.

- Sire, I beg you.
- Take cover behind your men.

Let me try to talk to them.

- With a gun in your hand?
- Put it away, Cambronne.

But, Sire.

Ah, -

- I beg your pardon?

Nothing.

- I recognise their insignias.
- It's the 5th of the Line.

And Ney is in command.

Soldiers.

Prepare to fire.

Soldiers. Lower arms.

Marshall Ney.

Soldiers of the 5th of the Line.

I am your Emperor.

On my command, fire.

Take the names of all
who refused to shoot.

They will be charged with mutiny

in the face of the
enemy, and shot.

Men to replace the mutineers.

Soldiers.

Of any one of you wants
to kill his Emperor,

here I am.

Well. You took your time, Ney.

You always used to be the
first to come for my orders.

Keep your sword, you fool.

How will you be able to defend
your Emperor without it?

You're right, Sire.

Paris is still a good way off.

Officers and soldiers
of the 5th of the Line.

In force. Music at the head.

And tear up those
rags, for God's sake.

The tricolour or nothing.

I asked you to come,
my dear architect,

because there are too
many things in here

that remind me of the usurper.
I cannot concentrate.

I would be grateful if you
would change the furniture,

hang new curtains, and
repaint the walls.

Repaint the walls, Sire?

By the time they are dry...

I have learnt to be patient.

I waited many years for my throne.

Yes, of course, Sire.

But it is said that
Bonaparte has crossed Lyon.

What of it?

How does that affect my paint?

- It's him.
- It's him, it's Napoleon.

Out.

Your Majesty.

Tomorrow, monsieur, tomorrow.

It is well past my bedtime.

Your Majesty, Napoleon has
already reached Fontainebleau.

He's marching on Paris.

So it's all over, is it?

All by himself, that man
has retaken France.

Who would have thought it?

We must go, Your Majesty.

But I would so much
rather go to bed.

I've made all the arrangements
for Your Majesty's flight.

- Departure, Monsieur.
- I'm not Louis XVI,

and I have no intention of
restaging that shabby drama

of the flight to Varennes.

Quickly, quickly.

My poor wretched feet.
I'm out of bed.

And on top of everything,
it's raining.

Oh. Oh. Push. Push me.

Push me. Push me again.

Wherever you may go, Sire,

I will join you.

Say no more, Monsieur de
Talleyrand, I beg you.

Of the need arises.

Do you hear that, Caulaincourt?

I have never known
such enthusiasm.

Not even the day after Austerlitz,

not even at the
coronation, gentlemen.

While France exalts, Sire,

England mobilises troops.

And they are not alone.

Austria, Prussia, and
almost certain, Russia too.

You have a new coalition
against you, Sire.

For what?

To put that old King
back on the throne?

He's meaningless, Sire.

It's you they want
to catch and cage.

Ney also said he would
put me in a cage.

And I had him eating
out of my hand.

And they will be all eating out
of my hand at the first victory.

Victory? You mean war again?

- I have no choice.
- They're always attacking me.

I've always wanted peace, and
they prevent me every time.

Sire. Marshall Murat wishes
to see Your Majesty.

Murat.

Here I am, Sire.

So I see.

What about the reinforcements

you were bringing
back from Naples?

That was almost a year ago.

Yes.

Yes, almost exactly.

It's been a bad year
for both of us, Sire.

But misfortune has
brought some good.

When I lost my crown
as King of Naples,

I became plain Murat again.

Marshall Murat. Murat
the cavalryman.

Whom you will need for
the war ahead of us.

Need?

I think not.

Neither need nor want.

Thank you for offering
your services,

but it is one year too late.

Do you feel as bitter as that?

Bitter?

I gave you my sister,
I made you King,

and you betrayed me.

How should I feel, Murat?

How can you even look at me?

Ney will take your place at
the head of the cavalry.

We will confront regiments

from Hanover and Brunswick,
Bavaria and Wurttemberg,

Hesse and the Piedmonts,

Holland, Belgium,
Prussia and Russia,

Austria and the English.

700,000 of them,
only 200,000 of us.

700,000 once they
have joined together.

We must attack them separately,

and fight the Prussian
army under Blucher,

and the English army
under Wellington,

before they can combine forces.

I hand the Prussians
over to you, Grouchy.

Thank you, Sire.

- And the English to you, Ney.
- With pleasure, Sire.

Attack.

Has Ney lost his mind?

I didn't give the order yet.

Never, never charge infantry

before they've been broken
up by a round of shells.

I heard him say he wanted
to earn his reputation

as the best cavalry
officer in the army

by leading a wonderful charge.

A brilliant massacre.

Who could cost us the battle as
well as the future of France.

Send for Grouchy.

He will have finished with
the Prussians by now.

He must direct his movements to
fall on Wellington's left wing.

Yes, Sire.

Marshall Grouchy, do
you hear the cannons?

Yes, I'm not deaf.

It is the Emperor.

He's engaging the English.
We must join him.

My orders are to
pursue the Prussians,

so I'm pursuing the Prussians.

How do you know they're up ahead

and not spread around us?

I do not answer to you,
General, only to the Emperor.

The Prussians are over that hill,

and I'm preparing a big
surprise for them.

Go, ride.

Over there, Sire, over there.

That cloud of dust.

An army on the march.

It's Grouchy bringing
us 30,000 more men.

Victory.

Send out scouts immediately.

Make sure it's Marshall
Grouchy's army.

What's gotten into all of you,

taking initiative without
waiting for my orders?

Do you doubt what
I see, Cambronne?

Of course it's Grouchy.

I called him back. Where
else could he be?

Order rescinded, Sire?

No, no, no. Send out your
scouts if it reassures you,

if you're all so afraid.

As soon as Grouchy arrives,

tell him I'm waiting for him
at the Sainte La Haye farm.

We will take it from the English.

Yes, Sire.

Vive la France.

Sire, this prisoner has
just been captured.

I have no time now to
interrogate an English soldier.

Have someone else.

- He's not English, Sire.
- He's Prussian.

Prussian?

How can he be Prussian?
Where was he captured?

This army approaching
us, it's not Grouchy.

It's the entire Prussian
army led by Blucher.

The Prussian army still exists?

What is Grouchy doing?
What's happening?

Why don't people do what I say?

Why can't I count on anyone?

Sire, we are all doing our best.

Yes, sorry.

I know you're all putting
your hearts into it.

Send in the guard.

They are the last troops we have.

I know.

I know.

Over here, soldiers.

Come and see how a Marshall
of France meets his death.

French soldiers.

No one will ever
forget your courage,

but it's time to lay
down your arms.

The hell it is.

Charge.

Form the square.

Protect the retreat.

We will block the road to
Charleroi to cover our retreat.

Our retreat.

The blow I've been
dealt this time...

is mortal, Caulaincourt.

Mortal.

Those people who are cheering you,

I hope you do not envision
calling them to arms, Sire.

A few hundred Parisians
who are still unaware

that Waterloo was a
complete disaster.

I have done all I can to heal
the scars of the Revolution.

I will not reopen them by
provoking a civil war.

Then let's get this over with.

The deputies have given you one
hour to sign your abdication.

Of you fail to do so, they
will depose you publicly.

It will be painful for everyone.

Silence.

I will not allow you
to dictate my conduct.

Nothing can force me to
yield to your deputies.

Yes, I say your deputies,

because I believe it was you
who turned them against me.

I don't care about them.
I challenge their vote.

That would be difficult.

In fact, impossible.

Then I shall dissolve the chamber.

The members have decreed

that anyone who attempts
to dissolve the chamber

will be considered a traitor.

You are the traitor.

Stab me in the heart with this.

It would be more loyal
than anything you've done.

Calm down.

Worse things can happen
than falling from power.

You have been through
this once before.

But I rose again in triumph,

called back by the people.

It only lasted 100 days.

Should that be
called rising again,

or just a last, desperate leap?

Get out, Fouche.

Your humble servant, Sire...

for the next 45 minutes.

At which time, I shall
have to ask you to leave.

I should have had you hanged.

A topic for your memoirs, Sire.

Paris. June the 24th, 1815.

People of France,

I give myself up as a sacrifice

to the hatred of France's enemies.

My political life is over.

I abdicate and I proclaim my son

Emperor of the French,

under the name of Napoleon II.

My presence in Paris could
create disturbances,

so I thought to take refuge here.

But Malmaison belongs to you, and
perhaps you don't want to...

Oh, I welcome you
with open arms, Sire.

This is your home from now on.

So redecorate, move
things around...

- No, no.
- I love this house as it is.

Just as your mother
wanted it to be.

And I shall stay only
a few days, anyway.

I have great plans.

- Please, Sire, I beg you.
- Don't think of...

- No, don't worry.
- I have no desire to reign again.

But I can't stand idleness.

I shall go to America
and start a new career.

Science, Hortense.

I shall be able to devote
myself to science.

It's what I have dreamt
about for so long.

I shall cross the
continent of America

from the north of Canada to the
south of the Land of Fire.

And this great journey will
keep me busy for years,

and will give me the
chance to study

all the psychical
phenomena of the planet.

I want history to remember me
as a great scientific mind,

and forget...

I was also an Emperor.

Thank you.

Ah, pull up a stool, Cipriani,

and try some of this.

We will never find,

fish soup like this in America.

We're not in America yet, Sire.

There's an English fleet
cruising off the coast

under orders to
inspect all vessels

sailing under the French flag.

I would have taken the
same precautions myself.

Very well.

We cannot escape by sea.
What about over land?

I've come from Rochefort.

The whole town is teeming with
troops sent by Louis XVIII.

Anything would be better

than falling into the
hands of that fat pig.

I have thought of a plan.

We can hide you in a barrel,

and load it on a small fishing
boat carrying salted cod.

The English will let it through.

And then we will join a ship
chartered by your brother Joseph.

I've spoken to some fishermen.

- Napoleon Bonaparte a stowaway?
- I was crowned Emperor,

and will remain Emperor
until the end of my life.

Abdication or no
abdication, I am France,

and France doesn't flee
in a barrel of cod.

But you can't just stay here
until they capture you.

I could take the initiative,

and appeal to our
opponents' honour.

Hand yourself over to the English,

who fought you with such hatred?

My real crime in their eyes
was overthrowing tradition,

not conquering Europe.

I'm prepared to swear that
I will never again act,

in word or in deed, against
their damn monarchy.

I will even swear to
stay away from America.

What I want is...

a little house in the
countryside, near London.

A cottage, a garden...

and a few rose bushes.

How can they refuse?

It's probably the last important
decision I shall ever make.

And it may well be the wisest.

And you know the rest, Miss Betsy.

When the English ship I
had boarded in trust

reached Plymouth Harbour,

the First Sea Lord informed me

that I was not allowed
to disembark,

scorning all laws of honour and
staining her flag forever.

England went back on her word,

and turned me from a
guest into a prisoner,

under house arrest on the
Island of St. Helena.

But St. Helena is better

than being locked up
in an English prison

or sent off to Russia.

St. Helena is a prison.

Your presence is the only thing
that makes it bearable for me.

Yes. We're really
good friends now.

When I think how scared of
you I was in the beginning.

But this is the last time
we'll see each other.

Oh, this is another
one of your jokes.

Weren't you satisfied

burning my fingers with
candle wax the other day?

What a wicked little
English girl you are.

We're going back to England.

My father has been
posted to London.

At Hudson Lowe's request.

He's doing all he
can to isolate me,

sending away everyone I care for.

I know what he's doing.

Once there are no witnesses, he
will be free to carry out his...

evil deed.

What evil deed?

The Governor is a goose.

He's too silly to be as
devilish as you think he is.

He wants to kill me, Miss Betsy...

by poisoning me in small doses.

I don't know how he's doing
it, but the fact is...

I'm growing weaker every day.

At night...

I have such pains in my stomach

that I have to bite my sheets...

to keep from screaming.

In London...

when you hear of my death...

remember what I've told you today.

Remember everything I've told you
during these last three years,

when you were kind enough to
keep me company so often.

Will you be my
message in a bottle?

Tell them all that they
were wrong about me.

That I'm not a monster.

Ah, we can't have you going away

with such a gloomy
impression of me.

And it's gloomy in here too,
so, Marchand, the lamp.

- No, I'll do it.
- Let me give you some light.

I'm afraid it's all I can
give you as a parting gift.

Have you finished
dictating your memoirs?

Almost.

And what have you said about me?

Nothing.

Because I'm not worth it?

Because you ruled the world and
I am just a stupid little girl?

The Imperial Crown of France

will contribute less to my legend

than the crown of thorns...

England forces me to wear now.

But you are not a thorn,

far from it.

So you have no place in my legend.

But in my heart, it's
a different story.

Your parting gift is beautiful.

What can I give you?

Can you see any trinkets you'd
like take away with you

to remember me by?

Just give me a lock of your hair.

Do you think you could see
America, little general?

Is that you, Marchand?

Yes, Sire.

Is there anything I can
do for Your Majesty?

No.

I'm very weary.

I shall try to sleep.

Tell me,

has it been raining
like that for long?

Raining?

But Sire, it's very
fine weather today.

The sun is shining.

Your Majesty must be dreaming.

Three, four.

Forward.

Push. Push.

Welcome to the Royal
Military Academy, Sire.

This is my son, Napoleon.

- I'll take good care of him.
- Don't worry, Sire.

You should leave now.

Everything here at the Royal
Military Academy of Brienne

works towards subjugating
character and suffocating pride.

The cell doors are
locked at night.

In case of absolute
necessity, you have a bell.

Any misuse of it will
be severely punished.

It's all right, Sire.

You've just had a bad dream.

The storm will blow out to sea,
and it'll be sunny tomorrow.

I've had some good news from
the Comte de Montholon.

Your dear mother is sending you
a new doctor from Italy...

and also a priest.

And in this type of cannon,
fire makes the charge.

The shaft of light
pierces at an angle

from back to front.

Here by the breach, gentlemen...

You, over there.

Are you not interested
in what I'm saying?

I know that already.

Who do you think you are
to answer me like that?

I am a man.

The mad dog has gone
back into his kennel.

I doubt that we'll see him again.

No.

It helps me sleep.

I would not exchange my bed now

for all the thrones in the world.

Not even the rats are
afraid of Napoleon.

You call yourself a man?

All I see is a little boy
who cannot control himself.

You will not go far,
little fellow.

You will not go far.

Head...

army.

Forty-nine minutes past five.