Original subtitles

1783. Six years before the French Revolution, Louis XVI still ruled - but Wit was King.

"In this country, vices are without consequence, but ridicule kills". - Duke of Guines

Do you remember me, Sir?

Think hard.

Have I also changed so much?

Remember..."Marquis of Stumblebum"? Ah, there we go.

You dubbed me that when I fell dancing at a ball.

Stumblebum. So very wounding!

I never lived it down.

Where is your fine wit now?

Flown away?

What a loss for our salons.

Since my exile,

I've seen many lands,

Oh, with far ruder manners.

Yet I've never forgotten it.

Sir, I sense I'm tiring you.

I will wait on Madame and let him rest.

She is expecting you.

I fear that in his joy, Monsieur has forgotten himself.

- Return home. - But, Monsieur.

Chattering teeth, bright eyes, you know the signs.

Don't move.

Sir, we are short of workers.

His father has the fever.

They say the King can cure with a touch.

All men can work miracles.

You don't believe me, but I promise.

We'll rid this swamp of evil.

By having masses sung?

Not with masses...

we'll build dikes and canals,

plant trees, sow crops.

This land will become beautiful, you'll see.

You're home.

When you meet the King, could he bless my medallion?

I promise, Leonard.

You can't go without my blessing.

Your mother worries about you going to Versailles.

Sunday, tell them to have hope.

I preach hope in God.

At Versailles, one man's will turned the swamps into gardens.

The will of a King!

I'll knock on every door...

right up to the King.

Kneel.

Remove your hat, heavens!

In the name of...Amen

Farewell.

One of the finest wits of our time.

And what a complexion!

Milletail!

Returned from America?

I missed the poison air of Versailles.

I'm surprised to find you kneeling here.

I'd have preferred burying him alive,

but God decided otherwise.

We are praying, gentlemen.

Would you join me for dinner...

Some fowl would be better company!

She will be grieving for hours...

Is this Blayac house?

Yes. Are you close?

I have an introduction to Monsieur.

You came at the right time. He's receiving presently.

You'll recognize him by his widow.

His wit was a shining light.

My husband valued your opinion.

The Academy grieves for him.

He cared for it deeply.

What a loss.

Lord, what a loss.

My sympathies, he was my father's friend.

My father also.

I've travelled from the Dombes.

First visit to Versailles?

I was born here, as it happens.

A courtier by birth.

"One can visit a stable, without thinking himself a horse."

Only God can judge us.

What, friend?

God forgives thieves when their children are hungry!

Now our second meeting...

No more a pleasure...

Whom do I have the honour of bleeding?

Gregoire Ponceludon de Malavoy.

Marquis of Bellegarde.

Charlotte, my governess, and her son Paul.

Paul is deaf-mute an idiot, but kindhearted.

Travellers aren't warned enough,

about highway robbers around Versailles.

A good doctor must judge blood...

the way a gourmet judges wine.

A hearty red. Fluid but full-bodied...

You live in fresh air...

and eat lean meat.

I live in foul swamp air, and eat mudfish.

My God, my plans.

- Are you a hydrographics engineer? - Yes sir.

I came to Versailles to seek aid for a drainage project.

Easy to be seen, hard to be heard.

I will appeal to reason and compassion.

How are you so ignorant in the ways of Versailles?

There now.

I've bled you dry.

You need to rest.

Two days bed rest, proper diet, with a glass of wine at night.

Night is for sleeping. Your efforts will be futile.

Thank you.

"Study Addressed to the Regent...

Concerning Epidemics in the Dombes and Suggested Remedies"

By the Marquis de Gora.

It was never even opened.

Will your study fare any better?

Thank you, you're sparing me disappointment.

I've seen so many gentlemen from the country.

I'll plead my case orally.

Here I'll build locks to form a storage pool.

His Majesty may find such works interesting.

The King so enjoys technical things.

Underscore how high fevers kill Dombes residents. He's said to be compassionate.

It is his weakness.

This is why I wouldn't inform His Majesty.

The same way I say nothing about

tunnels to England, draining swamps or mapping expeditions to India.

Your plan may be very useful,

but very expensive.

Drain the marshes at least.

You mean drain France's treasury!

I administer budgets.

Do you see the problem?

What price a human life?

Less than France's destiny...

except to philosophers.

Goodbye, Sir. I have work to do.

The King eyes will be opened to such misery!

Go ahead!

These Right Wingers will bankrupt the Kingdom.

Sir, my work is defence and fortifications.

Mr. Maurepas is aged and prudent.

I hoped a younger, more courageous heart...

My essential duty makes me immune to flattery.

In the Left Wing

favouritism is of no avail. Goodbye, Sir.

However, My advice is...

write up your project, and I'll have it read.

The Left Wing is for ministers who work on the kingdom's needs.

The Right Wing tends to Court...

and serve their own needs.

I only want to see the King.

"Only"? You're funny.

At Versailles you're known as salesmen.

There are...thousands of you.

Some must succeed?

Help me.

Introduce me at Court.

You'd be more useful back home.

My project upsets greedy landowners, Versailles is my last hope.

You're all the same.

Dreams full of titles, pensions and grants.

The Court! The Court!

The word makes you drunk!

I doubt you have what it takes.

Go back home...

and be grateful.

I apologize for troubling you.

Double three...or I'll divulge a Church secret.

Ah, a secret! Do tell!

Well then, purgatory does not exist!

Do I recognize your debtor?

Fresh from the country, you must have insights on our ridiculous courtly ways.

"Judge not, that ye be not judged."

If Gospels were of any use at Versailles, I'd have heard already.

Join our game if you like,

we play for 10 sols a point.

My shoe buckles are my only riches.

But feel free to admire them more closely by bowing down.

What is the goal of your visit?

Draining the Dombes swamps to rid them of the mosquitos.

Our peasants don't live past 35.

Poor people!

Doubly cursed as even their mention evokes ennui.

Surely you see, peasants feed mosquitoes

but also the aristocrats.

He's less stupid than he looks.

This is how we differ, Sir!

Her Majesty the Queen!

Ah Blayac! May I borrow the Abbot?

Your humble servant, Majesty.

I am playing piquet with such dull people.

My game needs a lively wit.

Thank you. I will return him soon.

Were you in the middle of something?

Nothing remotely important.

Your favored youth seems recovered.

Have you worked wonders, Marquis?

Allow me to believe so.

His tongue is certainly agile.

You rarely come to my dinner parties.

I await the pleasure.

Do you need an invitation?

Bring your new charge.

Double six!

Your first skirmish succeeded.

We may harbor some hope!

That nasty abbot is close to the Queen, and I made him an enemy.

Wit opens the doors...

and you're well-stocked.

Who cares about the Dombes?

You're alone, certainly, but patience!

If the Court takes an interest in you

your Dombes will have a voice in Versailles.

I've spent a year's money in just days.

If you do not mind discomfort...

you might stay as my guest.

My duty was to dissuade you, but I now offer my help.

But why now?

Righteousness and fine wit very rarely co-exist.

Too much powder yellows the teeth.

A young man keeps his natural complexion.

Just a little rouge to add colour.

Is the Countess close to the king?

Serious topics...

Best avoided!

I'll be quiet.

Fine words, sharp tongue,

malice, even...

then your region will be cured.

No puns. We say puns are "the death of wit".

Voltaire! My Bible.

One last thing: Never laugh at your own words.

Redcurrants!

I adore redcurrants!

I'd eat as many as Samson killed Philistines!

We all adore redcurrents...uh...

If Samson had...

If Samson hadn't...

- Where are your estates? - The Dombes.

A land of miserable swamps and disease.

This is why I'm here.

What an unpleasant topic!

Serve some champagne to

Mr. Ponceludon de Malavoy.

Baron?

What did you think of the English?

Amusing. They have a way of speaking they call "hew-mah."

Causing much laughter.

Is it a form of wit?

Not really, no.

- How would you translate? - It's untranslatable.

How intriguing, please try!

Talk causing laughter must be a form of wit.

No, it's not exactly wit.

There is no French word for it.

Give us an example, it'll be quicker.

Well... I asked Twickenham how many mistresses he had.

he answered me expressionless:

"How many would constitute several?

For now the only example coming to mind.

You mean "comes to mouth"!

How did Samson kill the Philistines?

Samson! The Philistines!

With the jawbone of an ass.

With the jawbone of an ass!

"With the same jawbone, Abbot?"

The jawbone of an ass!

I'd have been the talk of the court.

Two hours too late.

Age is the enemy, Ponceludon. A few years ago, I'd have had him.

Quick wit escapes anyone.

No, Ponceludon.

Anyway, Bravo!

You scored a point with your "Comes to mouth."

It's a pity you laughed.

A turtle

an ink bottle

An amethyst

a porcelain cart

a starfish

a book.

Think some more...

A snuffbox!

Wrong again.

Oh, an apple!

How could I forget.

You have strange hobbies.

Children's brains are moist and fluid.

When we age,

this organ hardens

and memory deteriorates.

I store every witty remark in here

Double entendres, repartees, quips...

wordplays, retorts, paradoxes.

Your "Comes to mouth" is a repartee.

I had a strange dream. My head was on the guillotine and the executioner said:

"One good quip, and your life is spared."

Everyone at Court has that dream.

Do not laugh open-mouthed, it's vulgar.

Is Mr. De Montalieri dissatisfied with you?

Your letter worried me.

It's a good position, Mathilde.

Being a governess will help your ambitions later.

Monsieur is pleased with my teaching.

But...

it would be inappropriate to live in his wife's home.

"Lord de Montalieri...

shall have access to his wife's bed twice a month.

Her refusal would revoke this contract.

Any breach of contract

would terminate the 2000 of income...

that Mr. DeMontalieri grants to his future wife.

- Are you sure of this? - There's no mention of my workshop, for research.

It is stiplulated in the codicil, Miss.

My future bride defends her interests. I approve of this...

but let me add one more condition:

My betrothed shall not

neither before or after our wedding...

for any reason...

appear in Court.

If she does, I'd be freed of my promise.

Mademoiselle Bellegarde, do you accept this term?

My daughter dislikes corruption at Court

Isn't this so, Mathilde?

I won't mention a wedding date...

since Madame de Montalieri is still...with us.

How is her health?

Yesterday, she could not recognize me.

Quick, help me!

It is not completely sealed...

How could it? You know the water pressure at 100ft?

Exactly 3 ounces per sq. inch. I've also studied Pascal.

Wise Nature put crabs under water and young girls at home.

Nature also gave your peasants fever.

- What sealant is that? - Otter oil. Why?

The seams could be tarred.

And then observation while in use to identify weaknesses.

Turn around, please.

Do you love this Montalieri?

Love? I don't believe in love.

Then why marry?

What are my options? Poverty or a convent.

Father can't afford my research.

One day, you'll take a lover, like all well-born women.

You can look.

Don't look at your feet

Now, the twirl!

Twirl!

If only the tyranny of wit had done away with genealogists!

For months I've tried to see the King

to plead that my family be restored its historic title.

The Bishop of Caen, my cousin, has intervened.

I think my audience may come soon.

I'm happy for you.

It's quite important

I'd be in line for a post at the Academy.

A highly paid job.

Meanwhile, I am short of funds.

That's regrettable.

But I could give you an I.O.U.

My means don't permit. My apologies.

May I ask what you seek at Court?

A grant to drain the marshes.

Do you have sponsors?

None.

What about wit?

Only how to speak my mind.

Your best hope is to see the King...

But for this, you must prove your lineage back to 1399.

We're affiliated to the House of Savoy

I see. But you lack proof of family title.

We've always had it.

Perhaps. But I am a genealogist. I need documentation.

I need birth certificates for 6 generations, for the Marquis,

who died in 1507.

Our castle burned around 1680. Papers...

Of course, castles will always burn down.

Write to his parish of birth.

They may have baptismal records.

Watch this. Galvani is correct.

Electricity affects the animal's wits.

You know what I think?

Perhaps electricity and wit are one and the same.

Ah, such smooth skin...

It's like...

I catch you admiring... my greatest achievement.

That diving suit is madness, others have drowned.

Mathilde was born in the time of Rousseau.

I've let her choose freely.

So then, she chose this marriage?

Her will is hers alone, I told you.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

Excellent news!

The Duke de Guines invites us to his table.

I told you fine wit opens doors.

Thank you, Paul.

Excuse me, Sir. Is that boy deaf-mute?

Yes, and half-witted.

I think I might help him.

I run a home for such children.

We have a kind of language...

He's quite fine in our home.

Charles Michel de l'Epee.

Quite delighted.

Excuse me!

Age and rank precedes.

My lineage is clear. We are cousins.

My aunt is named Ballencourt.

Ballencourt de Merignac?

Ballencourt du Tilleul.

But it's the same family.

Notice our grandfather...

See the resemblance?

Our grandfather?

His must be shown mounted by yours.

Then your retort, Sir...

An Academy member needs a worthy wit.

It never befat one worthier than I.

"Befat"? Such uncultivated language would...

surely entertain at The Academy.

It would be no surprise, dear.

We always entrust the harem to eunuchs.

That guard is watching us.

Obviously...

Since this is a lovers' walk.

We seem out of place.

Play the lover, then.

Mathilde, imagine your best years...

beside a lecherous old man.

He is very educated.

While discussing reproduction, you might even bear children.

I have more important projects. Don't you?

I am trying to save lives.

You are misguided.

Versailles can't save lives.

Since a rotten tree can't bear good fruit

Finished gathering?

Almost.

You think me cold-hearted.

You're young.

You think you don't need anyone.

Harvest successful, let's go.

Let's hurry.

You're like a tiny bee carrying pollen.

These haven't gotten any.

Do you oppose my marrying for my goals?

How will you name this new variety?

You're not answering.

You judge me.

It's only the flame of vital impulse which draws you towards me.

Nothing more.

The portrait session! I forgot.

Enough for today, Sir. The sunlight wanes.

I supply key words, you announce a rhyming scheme.

A dull epigram scores against you.

Quips depend on luck, but epigrams need work.

But effort strangles inspiration.

Be bold, but careful.

Don't trust the Abbot. He's a snake.

When silent, he watches...

When he speaks, it's too late.

"Eyes, wise."

"Missed, Eucharist."

Verse form?

Iambic couplets.

The one joy here that I have missed...

has been to see our King so wise.

But like Jesus in His Eucharist

Our mouths are fed but not our eyes.

What marvelous cleverness.

Your turn, Baron.

"Skill, will."

"Newcomer, summer"

Allow me, Countess?

Is it from Flanders?

Beautifully worked.

Verse form?

Octosyllables.

The abbot's quick wit has such skill

It inspires every newcomer

He entertains at will two ideas in succession:

One in winter,

Next in summer.

The Count of Artois invited me for chocolate.

You are leaving us?

On with the game!

Madame.

I see the Abbot trusts memory more than his wit.

What price for your silence?

Fear not. I would not... fan the winds of gossip.

You should use seal skins.

I will order some.

They come from New France...expensive.

You forget, I'll soon be wealthy.

- I used to swim here. - You can swim?

I'll teach you.

Have you seen a drowned person? It's terrible!

Water harms only the frightened.

Nonsense. We have boats and bridges. Why swim?

For fun?

There must be carp here.

What are Court ladies like?

I hear that some bathe in powder.

Many caught rich old goats, but few know how to swim.

Perhaps they had no choice.

Do salesmen also fish for favour there?

You've changed.

You seem to enjoy it. You'll become like them.

What are you doing?

Archimedes assures me I'll float...

but how do I move forward?

Push your arms back, and kick like a frog.

I stand by my theory, this is against nature!

I've waited over an hour yet others go ahead of me!

Your patience shows nobility.

Your case has been resolved.

It's all settled.

But...

what about the birth certificates?

Were proof always required, our best nobles would be stripped.

This are your titles.

Signed and sealed.

Good luck.

I am deeply grateful.

This is Countess Blayac's doing.

Reserve most of your gratitude for her.

A child's piety is a Kingdom's strength.

So often neglected these days.

Your parish will be taken care of.

Now please excuse me, Father.

The Holy Spirit be with you.

Madam, how might I thank you?

Forget it. I'm sorry you saw me doing charity.

Proving your kind heart.

So many give alms for show.

They say my wit is larger than my heart...

you may decide.

They also say you're interested in engineering?

Since I met you, Mr. Engineer.

Tell me about your project.

Beneath my homeland is a layer of clay that traps rain. The drainage -

A muddy subject. Difficult to entertain silt in my salon.

I thought to hear of new machines.

The King could tell better than I.

He does often talk of them.

And...you know these tales of woe.

I take leave. I am imposing.

Ingratitude is the only imposition.

Sit down.

Let's chat.

Word is that Miss Bellegarde is charming...

but nobody sees her.

Is our intimacy embarrassing?

You think me clumsy for...

I am torn between respect owed...

and desire inspired.

How convoluted...

for a man of wit!

Must you dine to shine?

Countess, don't be so cruel.

I would be flattered were it not for the fact...

my bedroom is known to lead to the King.

You misjudge me.

Swallow your pride. Let people help you.

Learn to hide your hidden agenda...

so that I might yield without dishonour.

If only for this...

you won't have wasted your time.

Quickly, Paul.

Beauve's record is 14 minutes. We can beat it.

Not "we". You almost drowned!

I forbade you to do it!

"Forbade?"

Who grants you this right?

Even my father has never spoken the word.

And what if I had died? What is it to you?

Being widowered again would kill your fiance.

You heard his wife had died?

Yes, you'll be married soon.

After decent mourning, of course.

He is a kind and patient man, and his children adore me.

I'm keeping this. Come see me first next time.

You think this marriage doesn't cost me?

I doubt it. You're cold-blooded.

The company of fish suits you.

Give me back my helmet!

I'll be quite alone without her.

Is there a sweetheart waiting for you?

I have no property.

What can I share, but swamps and fever?

Fine life for a lady.

Only women make us happy.

To them, a man's tears are never ridiculous.

Watch the hat of the grey horse's rider.

The King chooses.

Do we have a chance?

Don't jinx it.

Some wait in vain for months...

for example Baron de Gueret.

I prefer swamps to this groveling.

The King heard about your horse quip.

Will it be enough?

Yes, however...

the 'eunuch' joke is also the talk at Court.

Mr. Ponceludon de Malavoy.

Now mistakes are no longer allowed.

Like Jesus Himself!

Baron De Gueret!

Lend me your shoes!

I'd be ridiculed!

I beg you! I was called!

Get up, people are staring.

Louis of France, it's nobles who made you King

those whom you now humiliate.

We wait in a pen...

while you pin to a savage the medal of St. Louis!

Come Sir, our place is elsewhere.

The Sioux people are our friends.

Imagine, half naked, wearing a necklace of bones, and named 'Stinking Bear'.

Yet, for trifling difference, we would be the ridiculous ones.

Ah, Madame Blayac.

We see you so seldom, the Queen protests

Sire, the Abbot of Villecourt.

Ah yes! "Entrust harems to eunuchs!"

Baron Ponceludon de Malavoy.

They've spoken to me of you.

It's nothing. Only Bellegarde's idiot.

She's arrived, Madam.

Have her come in.

Miss de Bellegarde

Your father praises you...

but hides you away.

Shall we see you at Court someday?

You ordered my father to send Paul away.

I ask for his pardon.

Alas, the harm is done.

He's only a poor deaf-mute.

He'll be better off with his own kind.

He has always been with us.

You can't have come about this boy.

I am well disposed towards you.

I like your father very much...

and I always help my circle.

One day you will see.

Madame...Paul!

You are still a child.

Forget the half-wit.

How is our Mr. Ponceludon de Malavoy?

Such a brilliant talker!

The very best.

Goodbye, Madam.

I had heard of your learning...

but not of your beauty. You must be witty as well?

No, Madam.

He'll be fine there.

You said once those places were prisons.

This Abbot of l'Epee impresses me with his good reputation.

Better bedding? Fewer whippings?

The Countess gives me no choice. Courtesy demands it.

Courtesy!

Why so gloomy? Smile.

You forget Ponceludon de Malavoy!

He saw us cheat at epigrams.

He needs only a word to lower me in the King's eyes.

Don't worry.

He'll never sit at the King's table. Leave it to me.

Do you think I've lost my claws?

What if we held a dinner?

To serve Ponceludon a dish of burning ridicule?

Yes!

Is this yours?

The Countess won't attend your rendez-vous.

She's playing piquet with Madame de Lamballe.

Love's course is never a straight line...

Mr. Engineer.

I will ponder your geometry, Sir.

But she offers dinner tomorrow to men of wit.

You have been invited.

Alone.

I don't pretend to inspire passion...

But when Mathilde is 30 years old...

she will be a wealthy widow.

Very wealthy.

With her whole life before her.

A drummer boy at the battle of Fontenoy...

who had half his head shot off by a cannonball...

managed to shout out laughingly...

"I fear I've lost my mind!"

Now that's witty repartee!

A carriage at this hour?

It's for me, Sir.

A lover's tryst?

I'll leave a lantern out for you. Good evening.

How unlucky! We are 13 at the table!

We should ask a footman to dine with us.

A killing cure! Sit with a footman?!

We'd be a laughingstock!

Then one of us must leave.

Le the least titled bow out.

I suggest instead a contest.

Whoever shows the least wit when the soup arrives must go.

A tournament of wit!

The gauntlet is thrown.

Let the contest begin!

How is your wife, Monsieur?

Asking a man about his wife...

is like asking about yesterday's fashions.

I sleep back home every month...

to prevent gossip if my wife became pregnant.

Sleeping with one's husband... That's a labour in itself.

Why not stay at home?

The good company is like any other...

and the bad company is excellent.

I've decided...

To stop consorting with prostitutes.

They're as depraved as gentlewomen.

It's easier to die for a woman than to find one worth dying for.

I marry only virgins. Costly... For treasure all men have keys to.

Ever notice women's confessors always become Archbishops?

Women are more direct.

And when sinners lack wit, the confessor suffers the penance.

Monsignor, leave some for others.

At risk of tiring with those who have none.

A man of wit who stays silent... thinks no less of it.

Yet silent fools think nothing of it.

Ah, don't denounce the dull.

It's the plains that give up their beds to mountains.

Wait! Ponceludon hasn't spoken.

Wit is like money. The less we have, the happier we are.

"Wit is the opposite of money".

"The less we have, the happier we are." Voltaire.

Looters should study those they pillage.

The contest is over.

I hunger.

Please serve me with the footmen.

We are judged by the company we keep.

An error, Sir. Judas kept excellent company.

Sorry I'll be missing your wedding.

You're can't wait to leave me?

Yes.

A woman who throws herself at a man has no hope of pleasing him.

You'd accept a lower station by forsaking your water-flowers for me.

Why forsake them? We'd join forces.

You'd share my estate drowning in debt...

your dreams could not abide it.

If only I'd never met you!

I could still pretend I wasn't being bought.

The painter awaits, I bid you farewell.

When he's done, might we take one last walk?

I must reach a relay before night.

Was admitting your love so hard?

You and I are alike...

Our goals must come first.

Was admitting your love so hard?

How convoluted, for a man of wit!

You've changed. You'll become like them.

You'd be more useful back home.

Doubly cursed as even their mention evokes ennui.

Drain France's treasury!

I dread this marriage!

I've seen so many gentlemen from the country.

A wit so fine

in this era of tokens

Was seen as heaven-sent treasure

Wit opened doors to the company of Lords

And the tasting of noble pleasure

In the past it was able to put food on the table

But those days are gone forever

A witty rebuff, a verse off the cuff Are no more the coin of the clever

Why are you here?

You're giving up 2,000? Are you mad?

I renounce this engagement.

On a whim?

There's still time to beg his forgiveness.

No, Father. I'm determined.

I couldn't bear to marry him now.

It's Ponceludon, isn't it?

- No income from woodlands? - I sold those five acres...

We needed a horse, and to rebuild the bridge.

My poor Gregoire.

You'll inherit only these ruins.

But how was Versailles?

- You saw the King? - He's a busy man, but...

has a kind word for everyone.

Young Leonard has the fever.

Since when?

Two weeks ago. He drank swamp water...

You worked in the marshes?

Here, Leonard.

The King blessed it for you.

He wanted me to tell you

He loves all children of France.

Now, the priest will say prayers.

God will hear them.

Why would God send this curse?

Draining the damned marsh would lift it!

Don't blame yourself.

You gave all you had to Versailles.

Does our cause progress?

Yes...

But keep praying, you never know.

"I am everything that is, was, and ever shall be."

Egyptians who carved those words on their temples...

believed only one effect...

could be asked the cause of.

The Universe unfolded to these pagans

as one powerful cause...

Show-off!

Who says there are no great preachers?

The prime cause of everything needs be absolute...perfect!

Thus, two perfect beings cannot be...

or they'd be redundant.

The perfect Being...

is indivisible.

What is in itself...

does not change, thus,

Time ts the measure of change.

Perfection cannot change!

One, unchanging and eternal...

It is He! God!

Causa sui. He is His own cause!

Bravo, Villecourt! Luminous!

It's nothing. This evening I've proven the existence of God.

But...

I could as well prove the opposite if His Majesty so pleases!

You'll end up in the Bastille, Philosopher!

Majesty? It was but jesting wit!

Blaspheming before the King!

Sophistic braggart!

To fail so close to the goal.

Ah, Madam...

The king seems ill-humored today.

I hope you'll plead for me.

- I can't help you. - But it was worthy wit!

Where did I go wrong?

Our art is to shine in one's place.

Baron...

Numerous women might blush at the endearments I've tendered...

yet you left with no farewell.

Be aware I've forsaken the Abbot of Villecourt for you...

my confessor...

Who took offense to my praise of you...

throughout my House.

I would acquit your putting my soul in peril

for some small sign of forgiveness...

Your sex would have little advantage

if not for influence at Court,

I've made inroads towards making you the most-favoured absentee at Versailles.

Who would ring at this hour?

Ponceludon, he wishes to see you.

Have him come in, hurry!

Already done, Madame.

The child died in my arms.

How dreadful.

To your canals.

To your locks.

What are you doing?

You sent for me?

I had a fit of palpitations.

My apologies for calling so early. I was so afraid.

Only importance is to set your heart at rest.

Do you get them often?

I believe we are amongst friends.

Allow me to take my leave.

Care for Madame's heart. Her "palpitations" worry me.

What do you stare like a Devil before the Cross?

Mrs. Montalieri is not back at home?

Miss Bellegarde?

Ah, you were in your home when she broke her engagement.

Your cunning surely has no equal.

Patience. You'll thank me eventually.

Why is the deaf-mute isolated by nature?

Incapable of conversing with others?

Does he not perceive objects as we do?

Why does he remain stupid?

And why do we become intelligent?

"In the beginning was the Word!"

Socrates said through Plato...

"If we could not speak and wanted to communicate...

would we not copy the mute?

And impart with our hands, heads...

and the rest of the body?"

Here is Simon...

the son of a merchant, aged 25,

born deaf and dumb.

He came to us at 15.

Thanks to sign language, he can read,

write, and count.

He has the soul of an artist.

Here are Antoine, Pierre...

and Therese, age 19.

With us for 3 years, she solves 4-figure sums in her head.

She is quite pious.

And here is Paul, aged 17

a very gifted subject.

He learned my sign language

in less than two months. He can already hold a conversation.

Next spring...

I will unite Therese and Paul before God

You mock holy matrimony with these unfortunate creatures!

In Paris I once saw Romeo and Juliet

played by an ape and a poodle!

Can the groom even read that clock?

It's 3 minutes fast.

Bravo, Paul!

Louder, Miss. He didn't hear you!

Ask him Father, what a violin does.

Watteau said he preferred seeing one to hearing one.

Tell me, Abbot...

Do they suffer from their disgrace?

What did he answer?

It's untranslatable to us. It was a "play on signs."

How do you say, "Bravo"?

Like this!

Out of bed, friend!

I present Il Signor Panella.

You need a court suit, my dear.

Mine are fine, I need nothing!

At 11:00 tomorrow morning, you'll be at the Diane stairs.

The King and some courtiers will chance upon you.

It'll be your turn to play.

He's all yours, Signor.

Isn't this the young man you spoke of?

Mr. Ponceludon de Malavoy, Sire.

They say you have much wit.

- Sire? - Indeed!

The Countess praises you highly.

Show us this.

Say something witty, right here!

Describe me, for example.

Sire, the King is no mere subject.

"The king is no mere subject!"

Admirable.

Not a pun, I hope?

No, Sire. A play on words.

This deserves to remain.

Let De Malavoy join us!

Approach, Baron de Malavoy.

You who are an engineer.

Beautiful design, Sire.

However, if I may be allowed...

a sprocket here would...

maintain elevation between shots.

What a find!

Didn't you think of it, Chevernoy?

I hear you have a hydrographic project.

To drain the Dombes swamps, Sire.

Would you speak with me about it?

See to this with my secretary.

Gentlemen.

We'll call it the "Ponceludon" gun: Both have butts wider than mouths.

Come again?

Your butt is wider than your mouth.

I'll seek satisfaction, Sir.

Forgive me. I had to see you again.

I'm listening.

No matter what happens...

Let us remain friends.

Is my friendship important?

You made the suit watertight?

Promise me you'll be careful.

I didn't know about you and Montalieri.

And when you heard? Did you come running?

To explain I'd bedded the Countess to get the King's ear?

Only for your peasants' lives, I would have approved.

Your reasoning is impeccable.

I'll strive to be faithful from now on.

Why these instruments?

I'm attending to a duel.

Ponceludon...

and Colonel de Chevernoy.

If you came to any harm, I would die.

Flee.

Go to my house at St. Bauzile.

I'll join you there.

If not for me, then for your peasants.

You must live for them.

Have my bags packed.

Victor will hitch the carriage.

Return only for the King's audience.

Madame...

If I should die, carry my hat and spurs to my mother.

Give the rest to your poor...

except for those Court suits, which add insult to their misery.

I was to drive you to St. Bauzile!

I know, I know!

Don't worry, Victor. You may return.

The wily lover then dies, felled by a gunshot.

Where's the moral in all this?

Perhaps I erred by seeking fruit from a rotten tree.

This lover has no regrets.

I am grateful to have known you.

If you have wasted some credit on my behalf...

Your memory dispels any bitterness.

As no apology has been proffered

We shall now draw lots.

Mr. De Chevernoy fires first.

We succumbed without passion and we part without regret.

But I choose to believe, that between them...

carnality loses its rank to friendship.

Baron Ponceludon has killed de Chevernoy.

He's here with you?

He left the field with Miss de Bellegarde.

He'll pay for this!

A carriage.

Callers, madam. Baroness Boisjoli, Baron Malenval and de Milletail.

So soon?

They came to see me suffer.

Tell them I suffer cruelly.

Illness?

- Could it be smallpox? - No, Madam.

A lady's honor foiled by a fox.

A fox who is now dear to the King.

Soon we'll be courting him.

He made a faux pas, I know the Countess.

Back home, if a mad dog is loose, we sound the alarm.

You did it! You broke Beauve's record!

You'll take on water! Come up!

I love you, Gregoire!

His Majesty cannot meet privately with a man...

who killed his officer in a duel.

Not for now, at least.

A gentleman must defend his honour.

You did your duty.

You're too strong.

Versailles won't help you. Your land needs you... Us.

Give up after stooping so low?

We'll work the land, fever will recede.

I'll see the King.

It's only a delay.

You're not one of them.

I'm still welcome at Court. Do you doubt it?

Lovers of the fall, Come to the mystery ball.

Welcome to the clever-witted.

Dullards not admitted.

We are invited.

And if a Countess' bed is again called for?

Mathilde.

You will be my date tomorrow.

It's the red beak.

The red beak.

May I borrow him for this dance?

You wore my colours.

A tribute to pleasures you gave me?

Now trip him.

How shall we dub this nimble dancer?

Accept the Title of...

"Marquis Antipodes."

A well-earned honour!

Like Antipodeans...

He dances with head facing downward.

Marquis Antipodes. How clever!

Worthy of Voltaire!

We'll find out who you are.

The costumer will tell us.

Don't trouble yourselves.

Children will die tomorrow because you smear me with ridicule.

You envy Voltaire's mordant wit.

The great man would have wept.

For he was ridiculously compassionate.

Whose turn is next?

Who gets lashed with wit so sharp...

his entire family is ruined?

You?

Perhaps you?

Unless you have the chance to lash your neighbour first.

Monsieur.

Remove your mask!

All want to know who coined "Marquis Antipodes."

I'm returning to my rotted lands, my place is there.

I'll build canals, dams,

with my bare hands if I must.

1794. France's nobility flees to England to escape the Revolution.

Ah, wit was the very air we breathed!

Now the bloated rhetoric of Danton and the unjust...

rules in place of wit.

But you'll like it here.

On a clear day you can see the French coast.

Mathilde and Gregoire stayed behind.

She's helping him drain the Landes. Or is it the Dombes?

I can't remember.

May this turmoil spare them.

What talents do you have?

I can teach children French...

science, physics, physiology.

My hat! It is lost!

Better your hat than your head.

Ah, humour!

Ah, this is humour.

It's a wonderful thing.

I kept a list of witty remarks

Divided into "humour and wit", "attack by insinuation" etc.

Filed by category Repartees, Quips, Paradoxes...

Draining the Dombes marshes began in 1793, Decreed by the National Convention.

An initiative of Citizen Gregoire Ponceludon - Hydrographer and Civil Engineer.

revised subtitles 2018-03-29 eunoia (KG - SC)