Ladies and gentlemen...
In this little box I'll show you a new world,
with distance and perspective.
One sou per person. You'll see wonders!
We came straight from Venice by boat,
with our musicians to show you
this wonderful invention.
With it, you can see for yourselves
the greatest events of history, old and new.
Come, bring your children! See our wonderful machine...
Step right up. Put your eye
to the miraculous keyhole, the mirror of history.
Look at good King Louis XVI and his Queen.
The Queen in the midst of her people.
Notice the Queen's sumptuous attire!
And now, a great episode!
Those who were there can see it again in the magic machine.
Come on! Good day, sir and madam.
Something very important happened
two years ago: 1789.
The storming of the Bastille!
Fortress of tyrants, prison of men and ideas!
5,000 Parisians, on July 14th, leave their homes.
while their children sleep
to forge a new destiny.
83 dead, 88 wounded, poor people.
Admire, impaled on this lance,
the Bastille Governor's severed head.
The symbol of the fall of the old regime,
of the triumph of the Third-estate!
Come on!
October 5, 1789: 10,000 starving women,
and a few men in women's clothes,
go to Versailles to ask the King for bread for their children.
6 hours on foot in the rain!
Here we meet a beautiful woman,
with a medieval sword.
The fascinating Miss Theroigne de Méricourt,
in love with war, with revolution, but especially with men.
Messalina and Joan of Arc!
She loved the battle of love and war.
The King, the good daddy of the people,
appears on the balcony. 10,000 women scream:
"The King back to Paris!"
So he'll return to Paris.
Marie-Antoinette with her friend Axel de Fersen
is afraid to appear as the crowd is chanting
"Come on out. Great Harlot!"
La Fayette leads her on to the balcony
and kisses her hand. The people,
being kind-hearted, as we know, begin to shout:
"Long live the Queen!"
"Our Queen!" So the women went back to Paris with the baker,
the baker's wife and the baker's son,
meaning that Their Majesties' presence in Paris
guaranteed them bread.
Name any event, I'll give it to you!
The magic box shows you a new world,
with distance and perspective!
One sou per person. You'll see wonders!
"Agreement between the subscribers and the author.
"Two copies for the price of one.
"Louis X and The Human Heart Exposed,
"450 copies printed of each.
"Subscribers include the King and Queen,
"the Crown Prince’s,
"the Ambassadors of Russia, Prussia and Spain..."
England, Hungary, Sardinia, Naples, Vienna...
Correct that's how Citizen Restif
paid his wife's alimony and his legal costs.
200 subscribers at 100 louis adds up to...
Adds up to zero!
My father selected their names
and none of them have bothered to answer him.
It's not enough to write,
print, publish books.
You have to sell them!
"My Calendar."
Each day is dedicated to a woman my father loved.
365 women?
No, far more!
Often 2 women a day, even 3.
Feb 8. Sister Pinon, of the Grey Order of Bicêtre.
Her job was doing my hair. I hid my head in her thighs.
She'd say, squeezing my head:
"Make the most of it, lad." She'd come, too.
April 27. Nanette Precy. My first woman...
It happened in a stable. I was 9, she was 16.
The first time for both of us.
Later, we wept for joy in each other's arms,
May 10. Bathilde Boujard. I met her in a bordello.
Only later, after the wildest delights,
did we discover she was my daughter Bathilde..."
My name's Agnes, not Bathilde. I have lots of little sisters.
It's scandalous! I'm... outraged!
I can tell!
There are almost 400! We'll read them on your next visit.
Tote up the books and include the figure in the report.
I know it: 1230!
I met your father on one of his nightly tavern rounds.
He'd read his stories for hours.
Some nights we'd walk him home
to hear more of his stories.
My mother said most of the people he brought home
were vagabonds, beggars and thieves!
Most were. I was among the others.
Thomas Paine: "The Rights of Man".
Introduction to the French edition.
I presume your father got an order to print this.
From Mr. Paine himself.
You know the famous writer of the American Revolution?
He's not doing it for free.
Certainly not. But so far,
he's had no advance, not even for ink or paper.
I'm impounding this material.
- I'm not sure you have the right! - I'm sure!
"Any source of profit may be impounded until a debt is repaid."
You'll have a long wait!
How can he pay if you impound his sources of profit?
That's the law. Anyway...
when you've had 400 women
paying alimony only to one is a bargain!
The kind of bargain you'll never experience!
Charity! Alms! Have pity on your less fortunate brethren!
On those grounds, I qualify for alms, too.
Anyway, let's shake hands, brother!
I'll introduce myself: Nicolas Restif de la Bretonne. And you?
- Half-pint. - Half-pint! Delighted!
Owl!
Is that you, Owl?
My lovely Faustine. A pleasure!
I recognized your footsteps, you scoundrel. How's life?
Trying hard to wear me down.
- Headed for my place? - Of course!
I was at the café Manoury. I thought of you, and here I am.
You always were a good liar!
You didn't think of me.
True. I was just passing by.
But when you called out, I was about to think of you, I swear!
So come on up. You'll meet someone nice.
It's too late.
Tonight I've got printing to do.
Must be urgent if you don't have time
to sing a lullaby to a lovely young thing,
whose tiny feet are encased in green satin mules with pink heels.
Pink?
The biggest of my many mistakes
was refusing your hand in marriage.
You still remember? We were two puppies.
My business was taking off, you'd have had money
and a supply of young girls.
I only had eyes for you.
That was so long ago!
Anyway, you loved your shady friendships.
Darkness was your domain.
You were the first to call me "The Owl".
- Nathalie! - I said with an "M"!
Hurry, Manon.
- Mariette. - No.
- Melisande. - No.
Despite my talent for lying,
I'd best forget how many of them are underage!
Come along.
Feast for the eyes, ecstasy to the soul!
Undeniable proof of God's existence!
To have loved others,
is like having wasted one's sword in water.
Oh, to fondle...
those tiny...
sparrow's feet! Those slim, doe-like ankles!
He's a great writer.
Nicolas Edmé Restif de la Bretonne.
Does that mean I have to do something special?
Just what you usually do.
Intellectuals or blacksmiths, they're all alike in bed.
But intellectuals talk more! Hubertine!
I'm late!
I'll be damned! You, too, honor with your presence this place of...
My daughter works at the Royal Palace.
She's in charge of the Queen's bouillon.
You can't have her!
You're already here?
I was about to leave at 11, but they locked
my door from the outside. That lasted an hour.
Around midnight, the door was unlocked. I went out.
One of the floor-polishers told me
he'd seen the Queen go out around 11.30.
She was going to her husband's bed.
No, when that happens, the King goes to her bed. But it's very rare.
There was a commotion in the galley overlooking rue de l'Echelle.
But the page who sleeps by the King's door saw no one!
What happened in the Palace between 11 and midnight?
He's an old friend of mine.
And the nosiest man in Paris!
Professional concern: I write the truth.
Then what has been rumoured in Paris for a month
has occurred?
What was rumoured? I heard footsteps and voices,
but when I went out, all was normal.
Not to rush things,
but here we're still at my tiny feet.
If La Fayette stayed, instead of fleeing abroad...
like d'Artois, Condé, Polignac, d'Orléans,
it means he's for the King.
They hope other European Kings will help them crush the Revolution.
Listen to this:
"A perverse Queen eggs on a cowardly King
"who is plotting to slaughter all patriots.
"Our gold and weapons are sent abroad.
"The tyrants around us pounce on a starved and unarmed France."
Impossible, no?
Louis' brother-in-law is King of Austria...
Can I help you?
I'm looking for a friend, a coachman.
You didn't see... a Royal coach leave?
A Royal coach? No.
From rue de l'Echelle, maybe?
I don't recall.
So everything's normal. No activities.
What kind?
The nocturnal kind. I don't know, maybe...
Good night, corporal.
- They said 2... You're alone? - For the time being, yes.
I'll give the other to your servant. Wait here.
The ladies are coming. Don't follow too closely.
Sure...
Who are you?
A stranger who couldn't resist
helping such a lovely lady.
- How did they find it? - By searching!
Couldn't you stop them? You can handle men, when you want to.
Law-men want things to take away, not to consume on the spot!
It was the only profitable job I'd had all year!
My poor little girl. That fate gave you such a father!
Mr. Paine said not to worry about the manuscript. There's no hurry.
But I'm in a hurry to get paid!
He said that... when?
3 hours ago. He came to say good-bye.
He's off to Metz for several weeks. He'll get in touch
when he's back.
Several weeks... He left you money?
A little. But it's for me!
For you! Little bitch!
Metz, you said?
We need money not only for the seizure,
but for the butcher, the baker, the stationer.
They can wait to get wealthy!
I've waited 60 years!
Out of the way!
Strawberries for your journey!
Passengers for Sens, Auxerre,
MÃ¢con, all aboard!
Hats for sale! Old hats!
134 pounds!
Wendel and Paine.
Two for Metz. That coach will be departing 3rd.
- You're Mr. Paine? - My friend.
A gentleman to see you. He said to wake him up
as soon as you got here.
Mr. Restif. What are you doing here?
My daughter told you of the seizure.
"Man cannot live on poetry"!
I don't have much money on me.
It's not prudent when travelling.
I can give you only a few ducats. Here.
But don't worry. We'll deal with all that when I'm back.
Come and meet Mr. de Wendel.
May I introduce my friend, M. Restif de la Bretonne
Mr. de Wendel owns foundries in Alsatia.
Only they can make 10-ft iron bars.
I need them for my project.
That you showed to the Academy of Sciences?
Your partner dropped out?
Passengers for Meaux, Châlons, Verdun, Metz, all aboard!
It's there, Madame.
Hurry, you!
A single-arch bridge 300 feet long! I can't sleep nights!
All those people!
Well, good-bye.
I'm up by the coachman.
Take care of them.
Be very careful... The other one, too.
They're fragile.
I must leave, too. An unforeseen event.
But I have no reservation.
Nothing doing. We're full up.
Up there... There's room for 3.
If you have a ticket.
But I can... I can pay you.
We're late! When are we leaving? There isn't room for 3!
Where to?
I'm going to Verdun... to Metz... depends.
See if they'll sell you a ticket...
Thank you, fellow. I'll be right back.
We'll be travelling together. Where are you going?
I haven't had the pleasure, sir.
Yet... I have a feeling I've seen you before.
Highly unlikely!
The lady with you, too. I've met her before,
somewhere.
Hardly. Madame doesn't associate with your kind!
A German traveller wrote
of the politeness of the French.
He didn't meet you on his travels!
Lottery tickets!
One ticket to Metz. Sorry, I'm in a hurry.
You getting on, so we can leave?
It's uncomfortable...
We're waiting for you! We're late already!
- I'm coming, sir. - Get moving!
I'm sorry, sir.
I'm a student in Paris. My name's Emile Delage. What's yours?
Marie Madeleine.
It's taking hours!
- Out of the way! - Hurry!
Wait for me!
I have to leave, too!
Bastard!
A horse!
I have to catch up with that stage!
- A horse? We'll see. - How much is it?
Are you sure his ducats were counterfeit?
Absolutely. Whereas mine are real.
You can be sure of it. I know that man...
A shady character, a crook, a traveller without baggage.
You noticed? I pretended not to know him!
I hope he doesn't lodge a complaint.
About what? We were ready to leave
and he had no ticket! His own fault!
I hate flowers!
Restif wasn't what I expected.
He came to bid farewell to Mr. Tom Paine.
He has exquisite manners.
What did you expect? An obscene faun?
Like most Frenchmen, you've only read "The Perverted Peasant",
or "The Peasant Wife".
But he's written novels and essays.
- Thank you, Madame. - Don't mention it!
...anthologies, over 100 works.
He writes his "Paris Nights", day after day.
Quantity doesn't mean quality.
That holds for nature's works and men's.
But he writes with such style that some think...
Restif de la Bretonne is a pen-name for Beaumarchais or Diderot.
I haven't read his works, but I'm told
they're so full of scurrilous material,
they should be burned in public.
With their author?
If it were up to him, he'd have no qualms.
I've only seen him smile
when, before popular juries existed,
he could pass death sentences all by himself.
Don't make a face, dear!
Have you read them, Madame?
That man's books, me? I wouldn't dream of it!
I would! And with the greatest pleasure.
I found them uniquely inspired on the subject of man,
of woman, of love amongst our good people.
I'm glad to hear some aristocrats
don't scorn the people.
None of us here scorns the people.
But to go as far as make them the heroes of books!
We should read this Restif, too. Right, Mr. Baldi?
Sounds very instructive.
Though we don't need lessons in that field!
3 or 4 years ago, I read something by Restif
in a journal, I think. What struck me,
was that he spoke of sudden upheavals, and disorders,
and it has all come about as he predicted.
You, the wealthy, don't be harsh and haughty!
Beware, judges. A deadly revolution
is in the making.
The nobility hasn't understood the people.
The clergy has lost contact with them.
Soon the people will fight social injustice.
Everyone will be a citizen.
Listen to the voice of a plebeian who lives with the people.
Artists can often sense what's afoot,
they understand the causes, know who's responsible
long before others do.
I hold your "artists" to be among
the most responsible.
All your philosophers and encyclopaedists,
who discredited the regime,
through irony and doubt. Like Beaumarchais!
His "Marriage of Figaro" is more dangerous than 10,000 mortars
aimed at the nobility. Yet what happens? He is applauded at Court
out of coquetry and stupidity.
I applauded him.
A sure sign of stupidity
is being deaf to criticism.
Wise words, Countess.
Providing you accept the worst when it happens.
I think that the worst has already happened.
Stop!
Help me!
Are you hurt? Try to get up. Give me your hand.
Nothing broken?
No, nothing.
You're not much of a horseman.
In my youth I was. But the years have caught up with me.
- As you can tell. - They caught up with me, too.
I had to settle for that poor nag,
because of a slippery hairdresser. But I'll catch up
with him and his Countess. Their flight confirms my suspicions.
- Are you sure you're all right? - Don't worry.
I hit myself way below my head!
Now please help me,
catch up with that coach. On this horse, I'll never manage.
It's on your way, I'll explain.
I'd like to, but this is almost an "uncharitable".
"Uncharitable": so-called because its small size exempted the driver
from having to give a ride to a friend or acquaintance
travelling on foot.
Forgive me if I insist.
I can't offer you money, only my gratitude.
Perhaps even posterity's.
Isn't that too great a commitment, sir?
This event will become one of my "Revolutionary Nights".
I'll mention you, if you'll let me.
But I haven't introduced myself:
Nicolas Edmé Restif de la Bretonne.
The author of "Fanchette's Foot"? Of "The Bastard Daughter",
"The Parisian Couple", "The New Abelard", "Contemporary Women"?
At your service.
And thank you for not mentioning "The Perverted Peasant".
I've read and enjoyed that, too.
But I can see why it may not be your favourite.
Some fathers prefer their least gifted children...
To whom do I have the honor?
Chevalier de Seingalt.
When I saw the Countess get into the stagecoach
with the 2 packages that came from the Palace,
I concluded she was following some important person.
My suspicions were well-founded.
You're saying that right now,
Louis Capet has left Paris?
He may be travelling on this same road. But where to?
I find it hard to believe. He's such a coward.
When he moves, it's only to go hunting.
Dante said it long ago, when he meets Hugues Capet in Purgatory:
"I was the root of the evil weed
"That Christian lands in shadows kept
"Ne'er did much good come of its seed".
I knew Louis as a child.
I was loyal to his father until...
What year was it?
Seventeen hundred...
There's the stage!
- Fasten your belt. - Belt?
It's there. Tie it on. Now, watch!
Hold on tight!
Move!
Catch that stage!
What? They're not allowed to pass us.
We'll get killed! Put me down!
You hear me? You're mad!
- Let him by! - Get back!
I'm going to faint. I've fainted.
Virginie, darling!
We're near Meaux. They'll need fresh horses.
Maybe we should let them by.
Never! Chevalier de Seingalt eats no one's dust!
Not the King's. Nor that of a nameless scoundrel!
Sniff, Madame!
Make way for de Seingalt and de la Bretonne!
Make way for genius!
How amusing!
Meaux relay!
I need no one. Here! Move over!
Bring my toilet case. Hurry!
My toilet case!
- A quiet spot? - This way, sir.
Friend, did a very large carriage go by
this morning, from Paris?
Wait...
This morning, around six. They wanted 11 fresh horses!
3 saddle-horses for 3 horsemen, 2 for a carriage,
and 6 for a huge coach.
I never saw one so big!
How'll they cross the Somme bridge?
Who was inside?
The curtains were drawn.
They say it's a Russian noblewoman returning home.
Quite a way to go! Put your hat back on, please.
And loaded!
The head flunky, a tall fellow,
handed out ecus like pennies.
Did likewise at the Clayes relay, and at Bondy.
If they got here at 6, they must have left Paris at midnight.
I also heard a child's voice, a little girl.
Strange hours to travel!
Sneaking out incognito...
Meaux relay!
Mr. Baldi has to pee.
You were in a big hurry this morning: what happened?
I told you: I've never had the pleasure!
Madame, what a journey! Not too shaken?
May I?
You, here?
I'll tell you why I'm here.
Last night, someone left Paris in secret.
I think I know who it was.
You mean the King?
- You knew? - Yes.
The Marquis de Lafayette who I knew from the American revolution,
burst into my room this morning, saying:
"The birdies have flown."
The King's bed was empty.
So you left to chase the King?
No, my trip with M. de Wendel had been planned.
What are you doing here?
Observing.
We're here, in Meaux.
It's 10:30.
If they left at midnight, they'd be at Montmirail,
then Chaintrix, Châlons,
St. Menehould, Clermont... Careful!
Verdun, Metz.
They want to reach the eastern border
and be protected by the troops of Alsatia, Lorraine, Champagne:
90 battalions and 400 squadrons,
mostly Swiss and German mercenaries.
Unless at Clermont
they make a detour to Montmédy, here.
It's a mile from the border with Luxembourg.
Where the King's brother-in-law's troops are.
14,000 Austrians ready to move on Paris.
Mr. Paine, if this plan succeeds,
then the old régime will return to power.
The French people won't stand for that.
I agree. They won't give up all they've gained
in the last 2 years. It would mean civil war.
It will be a hot day.
Come take off my veil.
Can't she take it off herself?
Come, Madame...
Life gets more expensive by the day.
Tradesmen won't take notes.
They distrust the currency of their own revolution!
- Leaving, Chevalier? - That's the lady with the packages?
In my day, I'd have led her a dance!
If I see the King, I'll tell him to wait for you,
so a great writer can witness his flight!
Thank you, Chevalier.
People like us, responsible for the wealth
of this country, have been saddled with more taxes,
and scorned.
Move, I hate children!
My poor husband, a landowner, used to say: our biggest crop is taxes!
But you got even by forcing up prices.
And then took over the clergy's lands...
Strange man!
It's him. Now I'm sure it is.
I never saw such a tall man.
Remember at the coronation, 17 years ago?
Of course, it's Giacomo Casanova!
That's what I thought. You're right, Madame.
I met him years ago at the Cardinal of Strasbourg's court.
He had a great reputation as a ladies' man.
Why didn't you introduce us, dammit!
The stage is ready to leave.
I'll travel on top.
No... I insist.
You're too kind.
That reckless driver a gentleman? How odd!
He still doesn't know how to travel!
He knows other things...
Casanova... Yes, a Venetian nobleman.
- Never heard of him. - Neither have I.
What? Perhaps I should explain that, at the time, my name
didn't cause much excitement in France,
except among people -mostly women-
I'd known personally.
Though "My Escape from the Dungeon" had been published,
my reputation wasn't made till much later,
through the success of my "Memoirs"' written in French
and published after my death
which, as you all know, occurred in 1798.
So it goes...
Never heard of him!
What are we waiting for?
Let's go! Let's go, hurry!
Had I known that Casanova was hiding
under the name of Chevalier de Seingalt,
I'd have expressed my admiration.
But he expressed his for me first.
From what I just heard, I doubt his main talent
was as an author.
In Strasbourg, he was known as a gambler,
as a man who ran lotteries, designed textiles,
put on plays, dabbled in the occult sciences...
As a seer, too!
But mostly for his boudoir escapades!
I heard even
Madame de Pompadour was mad for him.
It seems no woman could resist your compatriot.
Thank you! Did you really travel with him?
Certainly. But I assure you I resisted him!
I barely saw him. He must have been very handsome.
How old is he? 60?
Even 70. Does it matter?
In my country, there's a saying...
What does that mean?
Well, it means:
"Go out with young men, but go to bed with old ones".
This trip confirms that old Europe
still has writers who can blend personal charm
with seductive language.
I won't discuss Mr. Casanova's literary talents,
but as for his amorous exploits,
I have some reservations.
First, he's too big. I told him:
the best lovers are always of small stature. That's been proven.
"Proven" by whom?
The influx of blood,
which gives the virile member its potency,
is all the greater and fiercer, if the area to be irrigated is smaller.
Your conversation isn't fit for a barrack-room! You're revolting!
No wonder: you're the author of "The Pornographer".
Don't bother to read it. It won't live up
to your expectations, dear Judge!
I'm sorry.
I'd like to catch some sleep.
Change places! Here, quick! You've got some nerve!
Shame on you!
You should shut up... with your filthy mind!
Eleven horses!
Teams changed at relays further ahead,
returning to Meaux relay.
It could be a single team!
The countryside is full of horses!
A carriage drawn by 6 or 8 horses would go much faster than us, right?
Not necessarily, sir. Depends on the weight of the carriage.
And you can't always find enough fresh horses.
Especially now, in the haymaking season.
You always get fresh horses?
Sure. We're a State service! Horses are always
waiting for us.
Must we talk about horses this whole trip!
Thank you. How kind.
Look up there!
Etienne, look at them!
Pull up, François.
Need any help?
No thank you, my coachman rode off to look for a wheelwright.
Mr. Casanova!
How did you know? I'm incognito.
Your reputation travels faster than you!
That takes some doing!
True! We went at such a merry clip, that one of our hubs broke.
Join us... until the next relay.
To refuse such...
such an invitation, is a sign of my decrepitude.
That's all my worldly wealth! I can't leave it unguarded;
- Someone could stay and guard it. - In that case...
Maybe your hairdresser could stay.
Well, Mr. Jacob?
You'll stay with Mr. Casanova's carriage
and join us at the next stop, or the following one.
But, Madame, may I remind you...
You'll stay here!
Yes, I think... I mean, I'm sure...
- I can't leave you all alone! - Thank you for your help.
For wanting to stay.
My coachman will soon be back. Take care of my things.
- Please... - No, I'll go on top.
Our charming ladies would never forgive me!
But I refuse to deprive them of your company.
They'd lose on the deal!
You're in a delicate spot.
Those 2 gentlemen have such regard for each other,
and I certainly won't travel on top.
Yes, of course.
The air will do me good.
After you...
The toilet-case that fell onto the road is yours?
It didn't fall. I put it there to caution drivers.
Now you can take its place,
to prevent accidents.
When you passed us earlier, I fainted!
De la Borde...
I knew someone by that name.
He was Louis XV's farmer-general,
and his head valet. I remember well.
He was my husband's father.
Now I understand why he was such a dour, crusty old man:
he couldn't guess some day he'd have a daughter-in-law like you
You've spent time at the Court of France!
He's been the toast of every court in Europe!
It wasn't a great privilege!
Courts aren't the gardens full of rare blossoms people imagine.
I mostly met wrinkled old countesses and princesses!
I mean, in my time. These days, queens
judging by you, choose their ladies-in-waiting better.
What makes you think
I'm a lady-in-waiting to Her Majesty?
Yes... that's true.
How did I know you were...
You underestimate Mr. Casanova's talents as a seer!
They're only part of his great success.
He told you that in Louis XV's time,
old Count de la Borde had yet to meet you.
Hence you married
the young Count after Louis XVI's marriage to Marie-Antoinette.
Mr. Casanova, hearing your charming accent,
fancied you might be Austrian
like Marie-Antoinette,
and, admiring your lovely figure,
concluded you were her age,
had grown up together in Austria,
and that when she became Queen,
Marie-Antoinette called you to Paris
as a lady-in-waiting. Makes sense!
What about me? Guess something about me?
That you're Italian... from Bologna.
You have character and your husband...
Me? A husband? I'm an artist!
Art and husbands don't mix.
No way! His wife looks like an old shoe.
He told her he had a case in Metz,
so he could follow me to my concert.
You're a musician?
Opera singer.
You loathe my friend the tenor Baldi.
- Right? - How do you know?
I heard you call your dog.
You so hate Baldi, you gave your dog his name!
He's diabolical.
He guesses everything!
He knows all about us! He reads us
like an open book.
He only has insights when people interest him.
He guessed nothing about me.
I'm respectful: you're in mourning.
If a widow's inconsolable, she's wedded to her sorrow.
If she's consolable, at least in public, she hides her availability.
And if she's already been consoled, she doesn't want it known.
In any event, she'd rather not be unveiled.
I'm a winegrower in Champagne.
A reassuring activity.
Mr. Casanova and Mr. de la Bretonne, I thank you.
It's a privilege for me, never a ladies' man,
to witness your seduction lessons: how to act with ladies,
how to interest them,
ask them questions...
Forgive me for covering my head.
I do it only to take off my hat to you!
The gentleman's making fun of us!
He's one of the richest men in France.
He can afford to!
Makes no difference to me!
I once horsewhipped Salomon de Rothschild, the banker.
Maybe that's why I'm destitute now!
In that case, I must have walloped every banker in Europe!
Gentlemen, you're mistaken.
I'm being sincere.
But your pasts are so eventful, you neglect the present.
You haven't even noticed
the three ladies here watching you.
The looks they're giving you! Who knows,
maybe I'll witness in this very coach,
between 2 relays, your 1,000th conquest,
Mr. de la Bretonne or Mr. Casanova!
What a pain in the ass!
Why not give Mr. Wendel that pleasure?
True, the conditions aren't ideal,
6 people in a carriage,
four more than necessary.
But you've been
in more desperate straits,
and come out ahead. I remember,
Mr. Restif, reading
some of your truly perilous escapes,
with a husband snoring in the same bed beside you.
Or in a confessional,
within convent walls,
on a river-barge, up a tree, in a stable,
with a girl holding yarn, for her blind mother
to skein.
You can't be defeated by a stage coach!
Since you've read my works, you know I never favoured
the kind of women who travel by carriage.
Then what would you do, sir,
to instruct Mr. de Wendel?
Maybe...
after an exchange of glances, at the next post-station.
No. The husbands will be there.
It must happen in the carriage.
We could wait for nightfall...
And travelling in the darkness...
No.
The journey will be over before nightfall.
At best, one could draw the curtain.
Like this...
This game doesn't amuse me.
Making love in a carriage, which we may have done anyway,
or in the most secret alcove, is all the same.
What matters is...
that there should be...
is that in love-making, there should be...
should be...
There should be... what?
Mystery!
Even if America fought harder for its independence
than for changing institutions,
your revolution is an extension of ours.
It's a movement that will affect the whole world.
I don't agree with you. Nor does the American ambassador.
I sat next to him at a dinner recently.
He said the new social order being imposed here,
against religion, order, and property,
seriously worries all Americans.
All? He and his pals from the Southern states
are fearful of a constitution that favours equality
and the abolition of slavery.
No, but even in New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore,
they fear that France won't manage to maintain
its stability and treaties.
Which would be a threat to its trade with Europe.
America needn't fear for its European trade.
As long as Europeans don't stop eating.
Ambassador Morris also said
and I think that...
he was referring to you and what you wrote about equality,
that the rights of man are established by the laws of nature.
Which is why it never can be true
that all men are equal.
I, unlike you and Mr. Morris, if you'll allow me,
wish for man's right to enjoy the fruits of his labour,
within the common interest,
to be recognized as soon as possible.
When royal courts stop plundering
poverty will disappear from nations for the greater good of the many.
He never stops.
He's not working, he's asleep on his feet.
Gilbert, you work too hard.
You work at charcoal even as you sleep.
The stagecoach! They're not there yet!
Carrying quite a load!
They'll have to stop at the climb.
And they'll want us to help 'em.
No chance!
The climb is too steep. We must walk a ways.
All that smoke!
It's terrible for my throat.
What do all those brawny young men do?
What opera are you performing in Metz?
The program says "Dido Abandoned" and "Don Giovanni".
"Don Giovanni"? Really?
I was at the première in Prague 4 years ago.
Mozart conducted at his harpsichord.
Da Ponte, who had to leave, asked me to stand in for him at rehearsals.
Mozart speaks perfect Italian.
He and I reworked a few verses of the "Catalogue" aria. You know...
More smokestacks,
mean more machinery, more dependence on workmen.
And those who manipulate them.
Agitators are using the financial crisis to stir up the workers
First blacksmiths, hatters,
then fruit sellers, carpenters, now iron workers...
In Paris, they're holding meetings.
Instead of working, they go on strike.
I've actually seen it: a workman stopping work.
Just suddenly stop working.
The most terrifying sight I ever saw!
Forgive an amateur for imposing on an artist.
Don't worry! I'm a contralto. Leporello's a baritone.
Leporello's as great as Sancho Panza.
He has all the anger of the servant
who envies and despises his master.
At one point he sings:
"I want to be a gentleman and serve no more".
The impossible dream of all servants of all times!
It seems you don't approve of what's happened in France since '89?
I may displease some of you,
but I'll say no.
I don't approve because things have grown uglier here.
Coachmen and servants think they have
the right to be rude.
I miss the sweeter France of yore,
when all was harmony and light.
It was a good place for a foreigner to live.
Dignity was respected.
Dignity is the first thing you lose.
Soon you'll have the people as your monarch:
the most violent and tyrannical of monarchs!
Stop it! I forbid you to say that!
I'm speaking to you, Mr. Casanova. Or Madame Casanova!
I thank you for that!
You just proved my point!