All language subtitles for La.Marseillaise.1938.480p.BluRay.AAC.x264-HANDJOB

A chronicle of facts

that contributed
to the fall of the monarchy

14TH JULY 1789

Present arms!

Forward march!

March!

About turn!

Forward march!

Squad, halt!

I would like to speak to His
Majesty. Who is his gentleman?

Monsieur de Guéméné.

Announce the Duke
de la Rochefoucauld-Liancourt.

Good evening, Guéméné.

Kindly inform His Majesty
that I am here.

I must warn you, the
hunt was keen today.

His Majesty sleeps
like Hercules after his labors.

Pray make haste,
my dear Guéméné.

- Is it serious?
- I believe so.

His Majesty is not
asleep. Pray enter.

Good evening, La Rochefoucauld!

I slept, but was aroused
by a pang of hunger.

It is this hunting.

We chased a ten-pointed stag,
very rare now.

Picard, put the small
table on the bed.

My good Guéméné,
pour me some wine.

My dear Duke, pass
me the chicken.

Picard has placed
it beyond reach.

He thinks, because I'm king,
I must have long arms!

What is it?

Sire, the Parisians
have taken the Bastille.

So it is a revolt?

No, sire, it is a revolution.

A VILLAGE IN PROVENCE JUNE 1790

I saw you.

Pardon a poor wretch,
your honor.

I was wrong to
kill your pigeons,

but they were eating
the only crop I have.

You, there! You are witnesses.

I didn't see anything.

Nobody asked your opinion. Obey!

Take him away.

Case of Anatole Roux,
accused of pillage.

You are a habitual offender!

Last year, my men caught
you setting snares.

Luckily for you, on land
owned by Monsieur Giraud,

mayor of this village,
here present.

His misplaced generosity
saved you from the gallows.

Count, a man is master
of his own domain.

This is a flagrant case.

The pigeon is mine
and there are witnesses.

I didn't see anything.

It is my heritage, as squire,
to mete out justice.

A thankless privilege,

but it is my duty
to exercise it unflinchingly.

Before all else,
we serve His Majesty.

Your case is
beyond my jurisdiction.

I will refer it to
the magistrates.

Come now, Count,
you know what they're like.

They've no more
heart than a rock,

and no more sense than...
an old pot!

With them, it's the gallows.

The gallows for a pigeon.
Do you think that just?

The pigeon is immaterial.

It symbolizes the
order I must defend.

It seems a pretty
skimpy symbol to me.

There's nothing of it
when it's plucked.

Once they kill our pigeons,
they'll burn our castles.

So you are really defending
your feudal rights

rather than the laws
of His Majesty?

Both.

Destroy the feudal order
which assures your rights,

then you destroy our
social structure,

based on respect
for divine and natural order.

Of which you, too,
are a beneficiary.

A very small beneficiary.
I know your tune.

If your privileges disappear,
then mine will follow suit.

To keep my little comforts,
I must abet your abuses.

You, the great lord,
own most of the land here.

I'm an old warrant officer.
You think we're interdependent?

I would rather lose
everything I possess!

I surrender.

I'll go quietly.

What do you mean? Are you mad?

- Is that a hearth?
- Yes.

It's all wrong.

Don't try to tell me how to do it.

I'm a mason, a good one.

I know my trade, ask anyone.

What's the matter
with this hearth?

The wind's in the west.

You're no longer in town,
you have to think about the wind.

Here's a good one.

Who's that?

I don't know.

- Who are you?
- What about you?

We're from Marseilles.

- Fleeing the king's justice?
- Not the king's, the aristocrats'.

- Same as me.
- We're not criminals.

- Me neither.
- We're patriots.

That's enough to put us in jail.

I killed a pigeon.
That means the gallows.

You know this area?

I was born in Cadolive,
just over the hill.

I know the priest there.
He brings food when he can.

- Have you a leather belt?
- I have.

It's a present from my mother.

There.

It'll make a good sling.
We'll kill plenty of blackbirds.

- Got any string?
- What for?

For snaring rabbits.
There's plenty about.

- You seem to be quite a hunter.
- I know.

That's what the count says, too.

- What's your name?
- Jean-Joseph Bomier.

I'm Anatole Roux,
but everyone calls me "Chamois."

- And you?
- I'm Honoré Arnaud.

Toll clerk from Marseilles.

- Staying with us?
- Willingly!

But let's remake that hearth.

Still, it's a good life here.

You want a blackbird?
Just use the sling.

You want a hare?
Just set a snare.

Understand the ways of Nature.
That's the secret of it.

But that's just what
makes it so exciting.

The simple life.
Why don't we stay here forever?

Don't you want to see
your mother again?

Of course I want to.

But think, I spent my life
cooped in a house.

Like living in a cupboard.
I'm staying here.

And women?

I'm old, I don't care.
But you're young.

We could bring a beauty here.

We could easily feed her.

And she could help
with the cooking.

It wouldn't be long
before you quarreled over her.

If we had everything:

Bread, salt, brandy,
women, tobacco,

then this place
would become a town.

Better to go back to
Marseilles, clear it out.

Get rid of the aristocrats,

and profit from
our parents' efforts.

Friends!

Here's Paget!

Is that how you keep watch?

Why bother?
No one ever comes here.

What have you brought?

All a poor priest can afford.
Bread, cheese, tobacco.

It's wonderful bread.

Thank God you're
Arnaud's friend.

That's not why he helps us.

I've had enough
of starving, too.

Our plight

would touch even the stones
beneath our tattered shoes.

Turn your rabbit,
it's scorching.

Who's cooking it, you or me?

You can't talk to him,
now he thinks he's a cook.

For a year,
my vicarage has been windowless.

But the bishop
lives in a palace,

keeps mistresses,

leads a debauched life
that shames a servant of Christ.

He's just a lad of 22.

Noble lads aren't
like ordinary ones.

Us folk, when we father a child,

we pass on our
features or color of hair.

But a nobleman,
without further effort,

passes on every
imaginable talent,

political, military, ecclesiastic.

Without learning anything,
the offspring knows everything.

We priests are like
sergeants in the army.

Like sergeants, we have no
hope of becoming officers.

I'm glad I'm a widower
and my children are dead.

Ordinary folk should refuse
to have more children.

Isn't your rabbit cooked now?

I think you're right.

Paget!

- Seen the smoke?
- This one?

That's the Château de Bigeor
burning over there.

The other place
belongs to my bishop's brother.

Children,

the time is ripe for
you to return.

We need you.

The aristos must be
feeling pretty sick.

I wouldn't like it if
my house was burnt.

Would you like ten years
in the gallows?

The nobles have taught
us bad habits.

They made us cruel
in their image.

They're reaping.
Reaping what they sowed.

They are like invisible
witnesses.

It's not their fault. It's their
God-given nature to do evil.

But now we're ready
to get rid of them.

I'm sorry now my
children are dead.

Because you young ones
will build a new life.

Good-bye, my friends.

Whatever you do, stand fast.

- Good-bye, Chamois.
- Good-bye, my friend.

Good-bye, Chamois! I won't
forget what you taught me.

Give me that.
You'll get guns in town.

OCTOBER 1790

Arnaud, of the Young Citizens.

Got your card, Bomier?

What for? Don't you know me?

I shouldn't let you in.

What's all this bureaucracy
got to do with revolution?

It's all your writers
and book-learners

inventing paperwork
to make yourselves important.

You can't make order with
disorder. Come on, let's go.

Respectable people
are attacked on the streets!

The Mayor of Marseilles
does nothing!

Yes, we want order
in our streets!

The reactionaries are
dictating the law!

The rich should pay taxes!

We dockers of Marseilles,

disciplined workers
and opponents of violence,

stopped the looting of tax
collector Rebuffet's property.

We stamp out crimes
against public order

committed by reactionaries
in defiance of the people.

He's right!

Therefore we offer you
our wholehearted support.

I now call upon
Citizen Moissant.

Citizen Moissant
will sum up the situation.

To sum it up:

Just as we witness
an admirable scene,

king and nation united
in the public weal,

a handful of troublemakers
compromise the Revolution.

In their business houses,
they work to force up prices.

In government,

they plot against
nationally important measures.

And they are in the army.

Here in Marseilles,
we have the three forts

held by officers
hostile to king and people.

Threatening the town
with cannons,

those troublemakers
insult and harry all patriots!

By agreement with
the new municipality,

we citizens of Marseilles,

members of the civic guard
and patriotic groups,

have decided to
seize these forts

and place them under our
own elected authorities!

Books are always describing
magnificent dawns.

Because writers are
still in bed then.

The majority of dawns are cold,
gray, with miserable colors.

I'm a painter, so I know.

Do you paint portraits?

I paint the heroes of antiquity,

Romans, Spartans and
such patriots.

I've given up the aristocrats'
shepherds and shepherdesses.

Javel, Ardisson

you can start now.

- How are you doing, Diogenes?
- Fine!

- Good.
- Let's go.

You there, open up!

- What do you want?
- We've got some wine!

- Who sent it?
- Ravel.

It's a present from
the municipality.

Go round by the main gate.

- Unload your barrel here.
- Not further on?

Mind your own business.

Gently now.

Why so careful?

Can't you see it's
an old barrel?

Anyway, it doesn't do
to shake up wine.

There's something fishy
about you two.

Get going!

You old misery.

You might offer us a drink.

I've got my orders. Go on!

Shake hands at least, comrade.

What are you doing?

The nation has just
seized the fort!

Come along now!
Hand over your rifles!

That's the spirit!
Take it, Javel.

He doesn't know
what to do with it.

- Ardisson, guard the door.
- Don't worry.

You two, here.
Give him your gun.

You watch the prisoners.
Be careful, they're fierce.

Quiet now, this is
the guard house.

On your feet!

Help! We're being
attacked by brigands!

That's enough! Enough!

Don't worry, you won't
come to any harm.

Alert!

Fix bayonets!

Save useless bloodshed.

You had better surrender,
sergeant.

- How many are you?
- At least 2000.

In that case, lay down
your arms, men!

Arnaud, I'm going to the cells
to look for Cuculière.

Yes, go on.

- Here, Cornil!
- It's you!

What a pleasure to see you!

I didn't know you
were in the army.

We both come from
the same place.

- What are you doing?
- Can't you see?

I'm keeping guard.

Who told you to?

I'm using my own initiative.

Have you a leader?

His name's Arnaud. He's inside.

Who's that?

The Marquis de Saint-Laurent.

Commandant of the Marseilles
forts. He's a good fellow.

- Here.
- Thanks.

How goes it, Marquis?

I've seen some strange things
in my military career,

but this... this is a new one.

- How many prisoners?
- Twenty-two.

- How many political prisoners?
- All.

So much for the
lettres de cachet.

You are Monsieur Arnaud?

Citizen Arnaud.

I am Commandant of
the forts of Marseilles

and thus responsible
to His Majesty.

I must ask you to surrender
your arms and retire.

What's the matter?

It's my eyes.

All the prisoners
suffer the same.

The doctor says he can't help.

It's the damp walls
that cause it.

What are you doing here?

- We've captured the fort.
- Well, well!

That's really good news.
Yes, it's good news.

What about Arnaud?

Don't you worry about him.

He's all right.
Come on, let's go.

Long live the nation!

You justify what I consider
acts of rebellion

with words I don't understand.

The nation, citizens...
what is all this?

The nation is the fraternal
union of all Frenchmen.

It's you, me.

The people passing by.

That fisherman and his boat.

Citizens are the people
who comprise the nation.

I have nothing to do
with these people.

It's a new religion
I cannot acknowledge.

I serve the king, that is all.

Or what you imagine
to be serving the king.

When a king is prisoner
of his unruly subjects,

no longer able to rule freely,

his loyal servants
can only "imagine."

Permit me a question:

What are you going
to do with me?

Wish you a happy
journey to the frontier.

A pleasant stay

in Germany.

And hope we never meet again.

GUESTS ARE REQUESTED
TO PAY A WEEK IN ADVANCE

O, how sweet.

Is my remembrance.

Of the place.

Where I was born.

How sweet they were, my sister.

Those days in far-off France.

May my homeland.

Ever be my love.

Forever.

May my homeland ever be my love.

Forever.

O, who will restore me.

To my Hélène?

Who will restore the mountain?

Who will restore the oak?

Their memory.

Pains me every day.

Madame, that song
is deeply moving.

It reminds me of our Provence.

Forgive me. It always
fills my eyes with tears.

Madame de Saint-Laurent,
the time for regrets is past.

- You will see your France again.
- When?

In three weeks, Monsieur.

At last.

Monsieur de Boihue,
will you rejoin your Company

or be transferred
to the General Staff?

I have requested
to serve as a private.

Only one thing troubles me:
My insolently yawning shoes.

No matter. To serve His Majesty,
one may go barefoot.

My dear Boihue, your shoes
will hold out till Paris.

The expedition will
be a mere stroll.

I can see it now.
His Highness the Count d'Artois,

seated nonchalantly
in his carriage.

Before him the doors will open,
the populace will kneel.

The people, delivered at last,

acclaim the white flag
and the fleur-de-lys.

If there is fighting, the
revolutionaries will collapse.

One does not make war with
weavers, cobblers and layers.

You forget one thing,
my dear friends.

What, my dear Saint-Laurent?

The French have not always
been beaten. They will resist.

Really!

At Rosbach, during the
Seven Years War,

who resisted the Prussians?

You know the jest
about Marshal Soubise.

Holding up a lantern,
Soubise wondered:

"Where the devil is my army?

I saw it yesterday. Is it
captured, or have I mislaid it?"

This time, we have
the Prussians with us.

We are commanded by
the Duke of Brunswick.

The great victor of that
Seven Year War!

I just simply adore
the Prussians!

Since the blessed day
I learned they were with us,

I sing their praises!

I had the joy and honor
of meeting the King of Prussia.

But perhaps I have
told you already?

Yes.

Now there is a man!

A true Achilles, an Agamemnon!

He weighs at least 200 pounds.

Seeing him, even Jacobin bigots
can't say all men are equal.

Long live Prussia
and the Prussians!

Madame, I cannot
share your enthusiasm.

After noisily proclaiming
our championship of Catholicism,

it seems slightly indecent to soil
ourselves with these heretics.

It is the marriage of
carp and rabbit.

At least, let us not
be ungracious rabbits.

Let us render thanks
to the generous carp

who saves us from starvation.

Of course.

Of course, this hotel
is not Versailles.

But without heretics, we
would be sleeping in the street.

Above all, thanks to them
we shall return to France.

That is precisely what irks me.

We arrived two years ago.
Everything was beautiful and pure,

without question
of soliciting aid from strangers.

We sought to uphold ideas

we thought essential
to our country's greatness.

We sought to uphold them
by our own efforts.

Dirty linen should
be washed in private.

Now you invite your
neighbors to assist.

They may well make
off with a few items.

A drowning man can well yield
his watch to his rescuer.

Your scruples would be
more fitting in commoners,

peasants or artisans
from some place or other.

Their views are
necessarily limited.

Their greatest journey
is to the next village

and they're bound to marry
their neighbor's daughter.

Their children
will never know other horizons.

One can see why these people
gargle about "the nation."

Shall I tell you what it is,
their "nation"?

The rabble united
against people of quality.

I know another
definition of "nation."

It was given to
me at Marseilles,

by the man who deprived
me of my command.

His name was Arnaud.

He had the style of a gentleman,
yet he was a patriot.

If there are many like him,
we'll not have an easy task.

Monsieur de Porquerolles,
Monsieur de Saint-Laurent,

pray cease your historical
discussions at once.

We require you to settle
a dispute of great importance.

Let's go.

At Versailles, in the third
figure of the gavotte,

does one look right in
turning right, or left?

But it's very simple. Here.

How incredible.
I have forgotten.

Do you remember?

Forgive me, but I am no expert.

Ask Boihue, that
pillar of the Trianon.

Good idea.

It is very simple.

Keep your eyes fixed
on your partner

while looking
over your shoulder.

APRIL 1792

Who goes there?

Sorry, citizen.
I thought it was the Austrians.

They aren't far away.

Where are you from?

Grandes Mottes,
on the Mons road.

Some snipers fired
on the Austrians,

so they burned our village,
arrested the men.

They took my husband
and hanged him.

Is it true there are
Frenchmen with them?

Yes, they're aristocrats.
The army of Coblentz.

It's shameful.

Why don't you and your child
rest here by the fire?

Aren't you ashamed to rest
while they hang and burn?

I'd like to know what our
army's doing to protect us.

They say the Austrians
laugh at your disappearing acts.

- Did you hear?
- Yes.

She's right.

Is your crow cooked?

It's as tough as an old boot.

It's an old crow.

Still, it's food. No use relying
on La Fayette's rations.

Damn aristocrats. They betray
the country and let us starve.

What about Rochambeau?

Do you know him?

The general? I haven't
had the honor.

But I know Marat.
I spoke to him in Rouen once.

When we Parisians
arrived at Tournai,

that Rochambeau lined
us up on the square.

After marching all day,
we weren't exactly pretty.

And we hadn't shaved
since leaving Paris.

We all had a beard like
the Wandering Jew.

Well, this Rochambeau

came out wiping his mouth
with a serviette.

He'd been stuffing his guts.

He looked us over slowly,
taking his time,

just as if we had
full bellies, too.

Then he said,
with a sneer I'll never forget:

"What am I supposed to do
with you? You're too small!"

Small?

- How tall are you?
- Nearly five feet.

- A fine man.
- Finest in my trade.

- What is it?
- I'm a house painter

in Les Batignolles, near Paris.

And you?

I'm a cooper from Darnetal,
near Rouen.

Our fault, in the eyes
of these gentlemen,

is that we're volunteers
in Republican blue.

We trust our regimental
committees,

the Assembly, Robespierre,
Marat. We're patriots!

Nearly all the officers
are aristocrats.

To me, anyone with a handle
to his name is a traitor.

It wouldn't be so bad if they
openly supported the enemy.

But while they scorn the nation,

they don't scorn the money the
Assembly stupidly pays them.

"I cash in and I betray!"
That's their motto.

What's that?

Hussars, heading to the east.

- Surrendering to the Austrians!
- Really?

It wouldn't be the first time.

Remember the Berchany regiment?

That was only last Tuesday.

How much are the
Austrians offering

per man and horse, eh, Judas?

Vermin! I'll teach you to
watch your tongue.

Clear off, or I'll fire!

The more horses we kill the
fewer you'll sell the Austrians.

We can't waste time here!

Well, my old friend,

if things don't change soon,

what with the
Austrians and Paris

there'll be only the
two of us left.

Citizens, my name
is Louise Vauclair.

I sell fish by the harbor
and I pay my taxes.

I have come to tell you
that on April 28th,

near a town in the
north called Mons,

my lover, Antoine Givodan...

My old friend Toni!

Shut up! Carry on, citizen.

Sit down.

My lover, Antoine Givodan,
a volunteer of 1791,

sergeant in the
49th Infantry Regiment,

was killed by the Austrians.

Citizen Antoine Besombe,

trooper in the
6th Regiment of Dragoons,

brought me the news
when he returned home wounded.

He told me my lover was killed
fleeing from the enemy.

Citizens, some of you here
may have known him.

If so, you know Antoine Givodan
feared nothing.

And if he fled,
it was because he was betrayed!

- I knew Antoine Givodan!
- Me too.

- Be quiet, my friend.
- He was a generous soul.

I still owe him two crowns
he lent me at Santons Fair.

Are we going to send
more men to death

if their worst enemies are
in the rear, not at the front?

Well said! Down with the
Austrian Committee!

Enough!

I'm not talking about aristos,
who seek their country's defeat,

because defeat
would restore their privileges.

I'm talking about the
king and the queen.

I'm talking about the Assembly!

His Majesty, Monsieur Veto

betrays because
he is a man of straw.

Madame Veto betrays
because she is Austrian.

Because she is arrogant!

Because she hates France.

She believes the armies
of her Austrian Emperor nephew

will restore her to absolute power.

She forgets that a nation
cannot be led like a husband.

And that we women are here.

The Assembly betrays
because it is afraid.

These gentlemen are content
with revolution if it profits them.

But if it profits the people
they rein in and cry anarchy!

Just a word!

Is it a woman's place
to say such things in the tribune?

Yes!

I say a woman's place
is in the house!

Your place is in the gallows!

Throw that man out!
Show him the door!

There's talk of sending
a battalion of Marseillais.

First to Paris, then to the frontier.

But we've heard so much talk
that we've become mistrustful.

What we want is certainty.

An assurance that our men,
before facing Austrian guns,

will have dealt
with those criminal leaders

who place self-interest
before that of their country!

Unless we have this assurance,
we will bar the way.

Our volunteers will have to stop
or trample over us.

I believe they will stop.

Down with anarchists!
Down with Robespierre!

Long live Robespierre!

Your Robespierre has
neither eloquence nor dignity.

In short, he's a Republican!

No eloquence?
No dignity? Now listen!

Citizens, are you
free men or slaves?

Show respect for this Club of
Friends of the Constitution.

This free tribune,
where Jacobin tradition demands

that each have a
right to his say.

I call on Citizen
Moissant to speak.

I will tell you why
the city of Marseilles

has decided to send a
voluntary battalion to the north.

Like the battalions of our
Federates throughout France,

it will represent the nation's
will before king and Assembly.

Each volunteer will be sworn
to go first to Paris,

to make contact with patriot
groups and authorities,

and stay until patriot ministers
have been recalled.

And measures taken
against refractory priests,

against agents of foreign
powers, speculators,

and other enemies
of the Revolution.

Only after assuring
these nationally vital measures,

will our federates march
to fight the foreign enemy.

Foreign enemies to the gallows!

To forestall our adversaries,

who will not fail to paint us
in the blackest colors

the city has decided
that admission to the battalion

will be granted to completely
honorable citizens only.

Volunteers must prove
they have no criminal record.

Their families must be well
provided for in their absence.

They must swear
they have no debts.

The expedition will be
no excuse to shrink obligations.

They must have
served in the army,

the National Guard
or a civil formation.

We now open the
first enlistment register.

Heroes of the South, saviors
of the North, answer the call!

Come on!
String up the aristocrats!

Come on! We'll get the aristos!

What are you
waiting for, Bomier?

Aren't you coming?

So you're not going?

You're letting us
go alone to Paris?

There'll be 500 of you.

Is it your mother?

- That business with Marie?
- Maybe.

I don't understand.

An old comrade,
a liberator of the town.

You were all set to leave,

dreaming of sacrifices
for your country.

Yet now the time has come

you desert us.

You can't talk about the king's
dependence on the queen.

You sacrifice honor and dignity
for a woman, too.

So long, Bomier.

It's as though my
brother had died.

HERE WE ARE PROUD
TO SPEAK FRENCH

The Mouté boy is going, Aunt.

Going where?

To Paris. All the young
men are going.

Yes, I know.

Aren't you eating?

The tomatoes are done
your favorite way.

I'm not hungry. What about you?

I'll eat after you.
You're the man of the house.

What would your father say
if he saw a woman at the table?

Those old customs are out
of date. Please sit down.

I'm too old to change my ways.

Why aren't you eating?

Afraid to tell me you're
going to Paris?

No, I'm not going.

I'm glad you're being sensible.

Where does all this
agitation get you?

Struggling against richer,
stronger, better armed people.

You've bitten off
more than you can chew.

Believe me, there'll always
be rich and poor.

Your friends can't change that.

Why don't you eat?

- Is something else the matter?
- Yes.

It's because of that Marie.

- What's wrong with Clémence?
- Are you blind?

Trust men to go searching
for what's under their nose.

What's that Marie done?
Run off again?

Yes, but I don't care.

Gone off with your money?

No, I gave it to her
to buy a shop.

Now I've got debts.

And the battalion
won't take debtors.

All my friends are going,

Arnaud, Cuculière, Garnier,

Moissant, Ardisson,
the pick of the town.

They're like brothers to me
and I'm staying behind.

They'll be in the thick
of things in Paris

because things are going
to happen there.

And I've got to stay
and eat my heart out here.

Looking at the same old roofs.

The same streets,
the same little bit of sea.

I've looked at them so long,
I don't notice them.

Well, listen, it's very simple.

Just write to your
uncle at Cassis.

Tell him to sell the
vineyard for us.

He's got money,
he might buy it himself.

You're head of the family,
you can do as you like.

Thank you, Mom!

I'll volunteer at once.

I must be quick,
they're only taking 500.

Please, shut the window.

Do you agree to the
conditions of engagement?

Do you swear you have no debts?

Give me the quill!

I've come to enlist.

Quiet!

- Your certificates?
- Here.

Why haven't you
enlisted already?

I was held up.

Me, too. I was at Avignon.

They commissioned a painting
of Brutus killing Caesar.

Forward.

With 1,500 citizens
in Roman costume,

all clearly recognizable.

We're just in time.
They've got 450 already.

If they were less fussy,
they could have 100,000.

Forward.

- What's that?
- I don't know.

A banquet in honor
of the Montpellier delegation.

They say their battalion
is ready to march.

Pity we can't go with them.

I hear that near Tarascon,

there's an army of
50,000 aristos led by priests.

- Priests?
- Yes, refractory priests.

- Think there are really 50,000?
- At least.

Move on.

Don't close the door.
Let's listen.

The day of glory has arrived.

Who's singing?

Mireur, of Montpellier.

- What's the song?
- I don't know.

Come on, move.

Bloody standard is raised.

Listen to the sound
in the fields.

- Farewell, Bomier.
- Farewell, Javel.

- Next.
- Jean-Joseph Bomier.

- Certificates?
- Here they are.

Can you swear your family
is well-provided, without debts?

I swear it on the nation!

- Arnaud! Bomier signed up!
- Cuculière! I'm glad to see you.

I was sure you'd come.

Your signature, citizen.
What are you waiting for?

Water our furrows.

Mireur's song wasn't bad
but it wasn't all that good.

Go to the right!

What does it mean:

"To arms, citizens,
form battalions"?

They make it difficult for
citizens to form battalions,

if they are poor or in debt.

You've got it all wrong.

Well, I don't know.
It's a funny revolution.

Only citizens who pay taxes

can serve their country.

Give the revolution time,
it's in its infancy.

The rich started it,
but the poor will finish it.

But when?

I don't know.
We might not live to see it.

Where does Mireur's
song come from?

He heard a workers choir
sing it in Montpellier.

They say a Jewish pedlar
heard it in Strasbourg.

The Rhine Army War Song.

Who made it up? The pedlar
or the Rhine soldiers?

A sapper officer called
Des Isles, or De I'Isle.

- Where's he from?
- I don't know.

Not from the south.

His song smells of the north.

There's something brash
about it I don't like.

What do you like, then?

I'm no musician,

but I think a song should
follow the rules of harmony.

That's aristocrat stuff,
your rules of harmony.

Well, that song bowled me over.

It's like... an echo
of my own thoughts.

I don't know what you see in it.

It's a craze. Everyone will
forget it in two weeks.

To arms, citizens.

Form your battalions.

March, march.

Let impure blood.

Water our furrows.

Drive on sacred patriotism.

Support our avenging arms.

Liberty, cherished liberty.

Join the struggle
with your defenders.

Fight with your defenders.

Under our flags let victory.

Hurry to your manly tone.

So that in death your enemies.

See your triumph and our glory!

You're singing?

I'm just singing because
everyone else is!

Fall in!

Fall in! Attention!

So long, Rosette.

I'll plant it along the way!

- Do you understand?
- Yes.

All right, let's try it.
Two, three.

This band of slaves...

This horde!

Band, horde, I don't
see any difference.

Careful now. One, two, three.

This horde of slaves.

Will conjugate the tyrant.

Subjugate, damn it!

Subjugate, conjugate...

It's full of unpronounceable
words. I give up!

Commandant, I am the
Dean of this town.

I shall pray for the
success of your enterprise.

You see the priest
speaking to Moissant?

The vanguard of the
army of reaction.

His poisonous tongue
is worse than the siren's song.

Javel, you're a
hopeless pessimist.

A man isn't reactionary
because he wears a cassock.

Don't forget how priests
have helped the Revolution.

Loading is executed
in 12 movements.

Cool, calm loading
makes the best soldier.

Hurried movements
will result in spilled powder.

One: Hold the weapon
exactly like this.

Right hand holding the
small of the butt.

Two: Open the pan.

Three: Take the cartridge.

Four: Tear open the cartridge.

Five: Prime just enough powder
to fill the pan.

Remember, an effective
shot depends on this.

Spilled powder
doesn't help to fire the bullet.

Nip cartridge paper
between thumb and forefinger.

Six: Close the pan.

Seven: Order arms on the left.

Eight: Cartridge in the barrel.

Nine: Withdraw the ramrod,
avoid bending it.

Ten: Ram the charge firmly home.

Eleven: Replace the ramrod.

Twelve: Shoulder arms.

A pair of rommy boots,
packed out with straw,

and your feet will get to Paris
fresh as roses.

Paper is better than straw.

If only newspaper were cheaper.

That's a lot of rubbish.
Nice soft tallow is best.

Rub it between your toes,

and your feet will take wing.

I've found some kindling wood
like we use in Marseilles.

We had one revolutionary
only, my nephew.

He had to go off
secretly to Paris.

Will you give him two messages?

Where will I find him?

In Paris, of course.
He's Jules Besson.

You can't miss him.
He's fair-headed, with freckles.

All right, what
are the messages?

I want you to give
him 20 francs.

When you've dealt
with Monsieur Veto,

I want him to eat well
before tackling the Austrians.

All right, I promise.
And the other?

Teach him that song
of the Marseillais you sing.

The Rhine Army Song?
Do you like it that much?

We'll remember it
as the song of the Marseillais.

I'll teach him it, I promise.

I like best the couplet a
schoolmaster wrote in our honor:

"We'll replace our parents
on the battlefield."

Arnaud, do you want
some fried pork?

You should have seen all the
kids declaiming his verses.

In front of the temple
of Augustus and Livia.

Give me some pig.

There, my lord.

My friends, it was wonderful.

I'll do a picture of it,
I've got the title:

"France of tomorrow confronting
the ruins of Ancient Rome."

Why are we waiting here?

They say a cannon
fell in a ditch.

A cannon in a ditch?

A likely story. They're just
trying to cheer us up.

What do you think?

I think we're facing
the priestly army.

We're sitting happily here,

and suddenly, they'll launch
a surprise attack!

A cannon in a ditch,
that's a big joke.

Or else it's a big ditch.

An aristocratic ditch.

Truer than you think.

They don't maintain the roads
in this royalist district.

They pretend it's impossible
since forced labor was ended.

It's all part of their
usual tactic.

Pretending revolutionary decrees
disrupt public life.

Arnaud, you've torn your
trousers. I'll mend them.

If we have to move,
I'll be a sansculotte.

And I'll do a painting of you!

And we'll never be
in the painting!

- Let it roll!
- Sergeant!

Massugue will lead the vanguard.

Yes, sir.

The wheels are damaged
but the gun's all right.

If we look after it,
it will look after us.

What will they say to our
Marseillais song in Paris?

Moissant's idea that we should
sing it could be dangerous.

Nonsense. Remember
what I've always said:

This song will unite
all the Frenchmen.

It will be like a
new Federation.

When the Parisians
hear those magnificent words,

they'll join in
and sing with the rest of us.

The frightened queen
goes back to her Danube...

To the Croats.

Yes, to the Croats.

The king withdraws his veto,
recalls patriot ministers,

and in two weeks, we'll be
eating sauerkraut in Vienna,

capital of Austria!

Croats eat nothing
but candles, ignoramus!

Listen, Bomier,

didn't you say that song
was nothing but a craze?

I said that? When? Where?

The last time we went fishing,
Monsieur Bomier.

Yes, Monsieur Arnaud,

I remember quite well.

I said it was like the echo
of my own thoughts.

Heave-ho, shipmates,
hoist the mainsail.

Heave-ho, everyone lend a hand.

Heave and heave away.

Or else, you'll get
an empty plate.

They've sailed together
for seven years.

Without recognizing each other.

They've sailed together
for seven years.

And recognize each
other upon landing.

At long last, love reunites us.

We'll soon get married.

And spend the money we've earned.

To pay for the wedding
and the furnishing.

How many days have
we been on the march?

Twenty-one.

It feels like a century, at least.

We'll soon be there.

Heave-ho, shipmates,
hoist the mainsail.

Maybe they've had
a counter-revolution by now.

You think?

You don't think Robespierre
will be welcoming us, do you?

More likely the Emperor of
Austria with a holy army.

And there aren't any
mountains to hide in.

Remember those days with
Chamois? Those were the days.

What is happening in Paris?

STRONG AND UNITED

Where are the Dauphinois?

I've lost the Dauphinois!

Are you sure you
haven't lost your head?

Make room for the
Breton federates!

Clear the platform, it's
reserved for Breton federates.

Is that equality?

Why Bretons on the
platform and not me?

Why you and not the Bretons?

A fine thing if
everyone was like you.

Our brothers have left their
homes to save the country.

HERE LIES THE BASTILLE

HONOR TO THE MARSEILLAIS

Long live the Marseillais!

Bloody standard is raised.

Listen to the sound
in the fields.

The howling of these
fearsome soldiers.

They are coming into our midst.

To cut the throats
Of your sons and consorts.

To arms, citizens.

Form your battalions.

March, march.

Let impure blood.

Water our furrows.

It's not a painting, it's a fresco!

What about me?

I want another one!

It's only natural, isn't it?

Good wine, citizen.

From my vineyard nearby.

One more.

Where's Robespierre?

You can always find him
at the Jacobin Club.

We've arranged a banquet
in a Champs-Élysées café.

We fraternally invite
you and your staff.

Your invitation strikes straight
to our hearts. We'll be there.

You have the sun in Paris, too.

You can't imagine, citizen,

the enthusiasm we
met on our way.

So it was a good journey?

Indeed, we saw
wonderful countryside.

Tomatoes, like I'd never seen
outside of Marseilles.

So that's the Champs-Élysées?
What a funny name!

Elysian Fields, resting place
of dead Grecian heroes.

I can't see any dead.

Well, look at those waiting
for us by the café.

I don't know if they're dead,
but they're from the other world.

There they are!

Down with the Marseillais!

Come on, everyone!

Come on!
String up the democrats!

Come on!
We'll get the democrats!

They're aristocrats.

Pay no attention.
It's just provocation.

TO FRIENDS OF THE CONSTITUTION

Don't answer back, comrades.
Keep calm and orderly.

Come and eat, citizen.

I'll have love apples.

- What's that?
- Tomatoes, of course.

Tomatoes?

We want to see the Marseillais!

There they are, eating.

String up the Marseillais!

Watch our feet.

That will do!

Incredible! The rabble invade
even the Champs-Élysées.

- Long live the nation!
- No, long live the king!

Come and help us, Marseillais!

- Oh, well, they asked for it.
- He's right!

We'd better go. I'll escort you.

We live too far away,
at Faubourg Saint-Antoine.

It doesn't matter.

I can't leave you unprotected.

Paris seems more infested
with brigands than the forests.

Stop, citizen! I'll drop my guard.

Just one question:

Why are we fighting?

We both wear the
National Guard uniform.

You're a Republican.
I'm a partisan of order.

If you're a partisan of order,
why ruin our banquet?

Your banquet? Defend yourself,
miserable anarchist!

We're coming!

Bandit!

Tell your master

we won't throw him
in a little pond,

he'll go into Marseilles harbor,
with the sharks!

To me, aristocrats!

To my cudgel, aristocrats!

- Take your jacket.
- I don't need it.

Does it often rain
like this in Paris?

It does.

Umbrella-sellers must
make a fortune.

- What about Marseilles?
- It never rains there.

There's a cab.

You're mad, we can't afford it.

I'll take care of it. We're
rolling in money in Marseilles.

Wait, I'll hail it. Cab!

Open the gate!

I wonder what sort of bird
will hatch out of this egg?

What do you think?

Monsieur Leroux?

Sire, I fear it may be no bird,
but a dangerous reptile.

What do you know about it?

Permit me to recall phrases
addressed by this Brunswick,

commander-in-chief of
the armies invading France,

to the people in the names
of Austria and France

and, more seriously, in my name.

"Inhabitants of cities
and villages

opposing troops of their
Imperial and Royal Majesties

will be punished
according to strict rules of war

"and their houses
burned or demolished."

It is somewhat shocking

to find our person
cited in a manifesto

containing such threats
against our subjects.

Malicious tongues will not
fail to draw comparisons,

ill-calculated to
increase our popularity.

"The inhabitants of Paris,
without exceptions,

shall be required to
submit to the king...

To hold personally responsible
members of the Assembly

"the Departments and Regions..."

Everybody, in fact!

"Should the Tuileries
Palace be attacked,

exemplary and unforgettable
vengeance will be exacted

by submitting the city to a
terrible and total subversion."

Subversion? A curious word.

Unfortunately,
it states clearly what it means.

You informed me, Madame,

that we might attribute this
little literary masterpiece

to Monsieur de Limon.

Former servant of my brother
Provence, presently in exile.

Frankly, I do not
care for his style.

Those behind him are the real
authors of this manifesto.

They are waving torches
close to a barrel of powder.

You know them?

Better than you think.

So the question arises

shall we, yes or no,

communicate this manifesto
to the Assembly, make it public?

Gentlemen, I ask you
for your advice.

I have summoned you
for this purpose.

Sire, this manifesto is the work
of your most far-seeing friends.

Its publication will bring joy
to all sensible people.

I apologize for referring
to my private life,

but yesterday, my stockbroker
and I discussed the war.

He said to me:

"I would rather see Prussians
camping in Place Louis XV

and the French pound
falling below zero

than have the elements of
disorder encouraged by a victory."

Sire, I strongly urge the
publication of this manifesto,

which will strike terror
into your rebellious subjects.

Unless it transports
them with fury.

This time, the stake is the very
existence of the monarchy.

You are right, Leroux.

The stage is set
for the last act of the tragedy.

I am inclined to ring
up the curtain.

In war, the best
defense is attack.

I am eager to resolve
this false situation.

A king who cannot rule.

Subjects who are subjects
but no longer obey.

A war we are obliged to wage
against our natural allies,

our own relatives.

And those we call our enemies
fight to save our persons.

This perpetual surrender,

these detestable compromises
with men we hate,

these principles
we consider to be blasphemy.

Let the revolt come! Quickly!
Let them attack the palace!

This time we are ready, Monsieur
de La Chesnaye tells me.

We can count on the loyalty
of the Swiss and our gentlemen.

The best elements
of the army are with us.

Revolutionaries may
enter the palace,

but will not leave alive.

As with us,
it is the most active elements,

I do not venture to pay the best
who will instinctively lead them.

So this extermination will
end the whole sinister drama.

The difficulty is that we, too,
are actors in this drama,

which is obviously less
convenient than being spectators.

Our cousin of Austria
has the best of it.

What does he risk?
Not his head, anyway.

And what a happy prospect
for this young braggart

to arrive in Paris as
conquering hero,

and so play the deus ex machina.

Most distressing of all, I shall
have to invite him to the hunt.

What is wrong with that?

He shoots so badly.

I have it from his late Majesty,
your brother,

and from his minister Kaunitz,
who opposes this war.

How can you believe a person
who cleans his teeth

every day, and in public, too?

I am sure this strange custom
is excellent for the health.

We wash our hands,
why not our teeth?

If I were not presently
so preoccupied,

I would be pleased to
try this brushing.

In any case, my nephew
the Emperor shoots well.

He shoots badly.
Hunting is a lost art today.

Beaters set the game up
like a game of skittles.

Sire, you must have
very small affection for me

to publicly abuse a
member of my family.

Madame, I humbly
beg your pardon. It is the hunt.

My passion for it
makes me forget the proprieties.

Gentlemen,

have Brunswick's Manifesto
put to the Assembly.

ASSEMBLY PROCEEDINGS
17TH JUNE - 4TH AUGUST 1792

JOURNAL OF THE REPUBLICANS

THE MARSEILLAIS IN PARIS

THE BRUNSWICK MANIFESTO

ACTS OF THE APOSTLES

THE FRENCH PATRIOTS
2ND AND 3RD OF AUGUST 1792

An insult! The Brunswick
Manifesto arouses the Nation!

Beware, citizens, lest you be
lulled by opiate-mongers.

Published by a group
of men of letters.

All right-thinking people
welcome the Brunswick manifesto.

Soon we shall throng
to magnificent festivities.

DEDICATED TO THE NATION

AND PETITS AUGUSTINS DISTRICT

In the name of the Constitution

constantly evoked
by King Louis XVI,

we now invoke it in turn
to demand his deposition.

THE PEOPLE'S FRIEND,

PATRIOTIC, FREE AND IMPARTIAL.

FOR A SOCIETY OF PATRIOTS,
EDITED BY M. MARAT

PARIS, 3RD AUGUST 1792

ASSEMBLY PROCEEDINGS
OF 2ND AUGUST.

Brunswick's Manifesto and the
king's accompanying letter.

France, long starved of grain
and coin by royal monopolies,

troubled by traitors and
counter-revolutionary officials,

torn by factions,
betrayed by its generals,

is beset by 500,000 satellites

of despots in league with
Louis XVI to replace our yoke.

The satellites are Austrians,
Prussians and priests.

- Their audacious leader...
- Brunswick!

- No, the Count d'Artois.
- Excuse me.

The invader's general
is the Duke of Brunswick.

Freemason and secret
agent of the Pope.

Have it your way.

Their audacious leader,
spurred on by the Tuileries,

demands that we submit
to our former shackles.

What next?

My dear compatriots, wake up.

Hold hostage Louis XVI,
his wife, his son,

his singers, all your
faithless representatives.

The Nation seeks redress
from these traitors

who must first be sacrificed
to the public weal.

Then will come the banishment
of the shameful Capets

and the punishment
of all conspirators.

Signed: Priest of the People.

Long live Marat.

All the same,
Capet's a funny name.

You're Bomier.

Why shouldn't the king's
family be Capet?

Any news, Arnaud?

I've been with Garnier
and the other delegates.

Let's take action
and talk later.

Robespierre and the others
haven't slept for two days.

There have been
meetings everywhere.

Some people wanted
to march at once.

Robespierre is against
unprepared actions,

otherwise we'd all
be fighting now.

The Mauconseil section

simply proclaimed
the king's deposition.

In the end, what
have we decided?

Yes, what have we decided?

If the king does
not withdraw his veto,

or take suitable measures
for National Defense,

we give the Assembly
one week to depose him,

according to the Constitution.

But who is this "we"?

I haven't decided anything.
Everyone says "we"!

Your representatives,
the people you elected.

Members of the Central Committee
of Federates,

in consultation with the
revolutionary sections of Paris.

If the Assembly refuses?

Then we attack the palace.

In military terms,
it's called ultimatum.

- Come on! Grub up!
- You're in a hurry.

- Potatoes again!
- Only a few.

That's the lot.
They're all we had left.

Lot or not, I've had enough!

I refuse to eat roots.

I'm not a pig or a savage.

This precious tuber can be
cooked in 20 different ways,

each more delicious
than the last.

It generously provides us
with flour, starch, medicine,

even an excellent brandy.

King Louis XVI himself,

a poor politician,
but a shrewd trencherman,

feeds himself exclusively
on potatoes.

If you don't like them, Bomier,
give them to me.

I'll eat them
as a revolutionary discipline.

If you'd rather
eat something else,

the Assembly offers
us 30 sous a day

if we'll leave Paris.

Thirty sous a day
for leaving Paris,

that's not enough
after that march.

Moissant was right to refuse.

So you sometimes agree with
your leaders, Monsieur Bomier?

It happens, Monsieur Arnaud.

In that Assembly,

there are traitors who should
be sent to the gallows.

Those 30 sous are offered
by the Austrian Emperor.

That Brunswick's no fool.
I bet I know what he said:

"François, those Marseillais
will never let you into Paris."

Any salt?

As much as you like,
now the Salt Tax is abolished.

Enough for me.

Today is the 3rd of August.
Let's say one week.

By the 10th,
those of us not dead of hunger

will have a chance to eat again.

FRENCH CHILDREN'S THEATER

Be seated, citizen.

They are the Marseillais!

Citizens,

the performance continues
with King and Nation.

The king!

Long live the Nation!

Madame Nation.

Come to my arms
so I may embrace you.

Monsieur King.

It is impossible to
come to your arms.

The bridge between us is broken.

And an abyss separates us.

What is this abyss?

It is the manifesto
of Brunswick!

So the day after tomorrow
you prepare for action?

And on the 10th you
enter the palace?

What are you doing on the 11th?

On the 11th, we leave
for the frontier.

After the war,

will you go back
to your mother in Marseilles?

No, I'd like to settle in Paris.

I'm a good mason.

My friends call me "Gamate."

Maybe you don't
know what that is?

It is a little wooden
gadget like this,

we masons use it to mix mortar.

Were you asleep?

No, I was dreaming.

Dreaming?
You seem to dream a lot.

I don't understand you.

You've been courting Louison for
weeks and haven't kissed her.

- I daren't.
- Poor old man.

Don't be sorry for me.

I spend whole days in paradise.

Doing what?

Looking at her.

Today, I was fascinated
by a fold behind her ear.

It's extremely pretty

and I love it very much.

I didn't see much
else at the theater,

but it was nice all the same.

I really enjoyed myself.

If we ever get back
from all this,

I'd like to marry her.

But maybe she won't have me.

Squad, attention!

Comrades,

our colleague Garnier,

delegate to the
Central Committee,

sends word that our brothers
in the Théâtre Français section

will give the warning signal.

It will be a cannon
fired from Pont Saint-Michel.

Immediately, all patriot
church bells will ring,

summoning all revolutionary
citizens to arms.

Along with the forces
of Théâtre Français,

Faubourg Saint-Marceau
and Breton federates,

we'll go to the palace gates.

Before attacking,
we'll wait for Santerre,

who'll bring reinforcements
from other sections.

We must try to
avoid a bloody action.

Revolutionaries should prefer
words to battle.

We'll speak to the Swiss and
French who defend a lost cause.

If they resist, you do your duty
as mercifully as possible.

Let us tell ourselves that,
whatever our personal fate,

tomorrow's sun will set
on a France free of treason,

and ready to face
the foreign invaders!

At ease!

I wish I could see
Louison again.

We have two alternatives,
Madame: Attack or defense.

We defend. These are
His Majesty's orders.

Then it's best
to allow the gates to be forced.

Once the rebels are inside,
a volley from our guns

should destroy the majority.

Should some survive,
or our gunners be won over,

our best men occupy windows
overlooking the yard,

in a position to
effect a crippling fire.

We may expect with luck

few assailants to
escape our trap alive.

We must keep right on our side.

By entering the yard, they will
avow their insubordination.

Conduct me to His Majesty.

Make room for one
of your own, gentlemen.

Make room, gentlemen.

Madame, we have the upper hand,

but all these people
hinder the work of defense.

Sir, you speak out of turn.
I answer for the gentlemen here.

Long live the queen!

They will march with you,
however you order them.

They are prepared
for any eventuality.

These are trusty men.

Long live the queen!

Sire, do you eat
in such circumstances?

And why not?

The stomach is ignorant
of the subtleties of politics.

I ordered tomatoes,

a vegetable much discussed
since the Marseillais arrived.

I wished to taste it.
Shall I give you my impression?

It is an excellent dish
which we did wrong to neglect.

Sire, will you not
review your troops?

It would be appropriate
to rekindle their enthusiasm.

I have just so decided
with these gentlemen.

Sire, your wig is askew.

Picard is upset today,
he does everything askew.

Picard, thank you. I'll be back.

De La Chesnaye,
Maillardoz, de Bateman,

Adjutant General Deneix,
conduct me.

Long live the king!

O Richard.

O my King.

The universe abandons you.

Only we are left.

To care.

For you.

I alone in the universe.

Would like to break your chains.

While all the rest abandon you.

Long live France!

Long live the king!

Long live the king!

Present arms!

What is His Majesty doing here?

Long live the Nation!

Down with the king!
Down with the veto!

Yes, down with the veto!

Sire, this way.

Scum! I'll teach you manners!

Leave us alone!

Otherwise, as good citizens,
we'll open the gate

and turn our guns to the palace!

Back, or I'll get you my saber
in your belly!

I forbid you to insult my men.
They answer to me!

Gentlemen.

Long live the Nation!

Please stop lolling on
the ground, my son.

Rolling on carpets
is a bad habit you must break.

My sister...

This wig askew bothers me.

Try to get it straight.

Sire, the Department of Paris,
through my proxy,

would speak with you alone
with your family.

Royal ministers must remain
with His Majesty.

If the king desires!

Your Majesty's only safety

lies with the Assembly,

which alone commands
the people's respect.

You must proceed
there without delay.

We shall go.

Monsieur Roederer, you have won.

Madame, it is His Majesty's
good judgment.

Will you answer for
my brother's life?

With my own, Madame.
I will walk before the king.

Are we alone, then?
Can no one take action?

Yes, Madame, alone.

Action is useless,
resistance impossible.

All of Paris is marching.

I beg Your Majesty
to dispense with your Court.

Be escorted by members
of the Department only,

who will surround
the royal family.

As you wish.

Monsieur Roederer,
may the ministers follow?

Yes, they have their place
in the Assembly.

And Madame de Tourzel,
my children's governess?

Certainly, Madame.

As for you, ladies, I cannot
authorize you to leave here.

Permit me to give
you some advice.

If the people invade the palace,
thieves and assassins will join in.

But organized revolutionary
groups will be there, too.

Avail yourselves
of their protection.

The king and his family
proceed alone to the Assembly,

escorted by the ministers,
the Department and a guard.

Kindly make way.

The king has forsaken us.
What shall we do?

Gentlemen, you may
return to your posts.

Leave them again
and I'll have you shot!

We should welcome
the departure of His Majesty.

We no longer have to guard
their royal persons

and are now free
to conclude this affair.

This battle must be the last.

The time has come
to conquer or die.

Let us pray we conquer.

So many leaves.

They are falling
early this year.

Are you waiting for the deluge,
Marseillais?

To the palace! Death to tyrants!

Why are we waiting?

Stuck here like
rows of asparagus.

We look like silly turnips.

You're very anxious
to fight, comrades.

You forgot the National Guard
in there, honest citizens.

I'll not be the first to fire.

You're right.

Arnaud's right to remind us.

True.

The people in there, they too
have fathers, mothers, uncles,

children, loved ones.

- Thinking of Louison?
- Yes, I'm thinking of her.

We must take advantage
of the situation!

Squad, attention!

Present arms!

Forward!

Join us, brothers!

Long live France!

Avoid bloodshed!

March with us!

He's right.

Don't defend a lost cause.

Embrace the people's
party, your own.

If we listened we
would be dishonored.

Lay down your arms
and save your lives.

But if you fight, the
consequences will be terrible.

Gentlemen, the time has
come to do our duty.

Give the order to fire.

Didn't you hear what
Arnaud said? Join us.

We are Swiss. As long as we live
we never lay down our arms.

We do not deserve your insults.

We will not leave our posts
or be disarmed!

In your place I'd leave my post,

and go back to your mountains,
beyond Mont Blanc.

I know all about
mountains, you know,

because Arnaud and me lived
there for three months...

Are you hit?

Leave me! Save the ammunition.

You're hit?

Go on, leave me!

- I'm not going to leave you there!
- Take this man away!

Attack!

Get out of the courtyard!

Long live France!

Long live France!

Halt!

Weapons ready!

Fire!

Forward!

HERE WE ARE PROUD
TO HAVE THE TITLE OF CITIZEN

He's wounded.

This way!

Halt!

Weapons ready!

Fire!

Fix bayonets! Forward!

I'm sure she'll come here.

She's a real patriot.

At the Bastille, she was
loading her father's gun.

How old is he?

Seven months.

He's a bonny child. Is he well?

He's cutting his tooth...
he cries all night.

I feel like crying, too.

PETIT SAINT ANTOINE DISTRICT

Comrades, I think they need us.

Don't worry,
you'll be all right.

Good-bye, brother.

When you get home,

greet the mountains for me.

- What about Bomier?
- Bomier is wounded!

This way.

He's very low.

I think he's done for.

Don't tell him. Hold him in
your arms and comfort him.

I shan't enter the palace.

Never go to the frontier.

I'll never see Marseilles again.

My poor mother.

She'll worry so much.

Tell our friends
I spent that 20 francs

belonging to the freckled boy.

And I don't regret it.

Not at all.

Halt!

Weapons ready!

Fire!

To arms, citizens.

Form your battalions.

- No blindfold.
- As you wish.

I am no citizen.
I am Arnaud de Hoffenberg.

Fire!

Halt!

Move on, citizens.

Look.

LOOTER

Weapons ready!

Halt!

The Paris Commune, as sole
representative of the people,

charges us, the
Department of Paris,

to convey its decision to
suspend execution of the Swiss,

the gentlemen and others
guilty of firing on the people.

Those guilty will be referred
to a special tribunal

of judges and juries
elected by the Paris sections.

And the king?

He, too, will be tried.

The Assembly has proclaimed
his provincial deposition

pending the meeting
of a National Convention

elected by all Frenchmen,
irrespective of their estate.

The Commune declares
the country to be in peril,

and is prepared
to take any measures.

My feet have never been
so cold in my life.

How far away is this Valmy,

where we're supposed to find
this Roussillon regiment?

It must be over
there by the mill.

And the Prussians?

Just beyond.

- See that firing?
- Yes.

They're fighting for the road.

What if they get it?

The Prussians will
march on Paris.

The end of our Revolution.

Bomier will have died in vain.

No, not in vain.

Even if the Prussians
wipe us out today,

they can't wipe out
what we've given the world.

Before we arrived,

people just stared at liberty

like the lover forbidden to
approach his beloved.

Now, thanks to us,

the lover embraces his beloved.

Of course, she's
not yet his mistress,

and he'll have a hard time
winning her over.

But even if they're parted,
they know each other now,

and one day or another
they'll be reunited.

Well, Javel, what do you say?

I say that the 20,000 slaves

and 5,000 traitors
facing us over there

will never defeat
20 million free men.

Long live Liberty!

At Valmy the French
resisted every attack

of the famous Prussian infantry.

The great German poet Goethe
was present at their victory.

His commentary will serve
as a full stop to this tale.

"At that time and place
a new era began

for the history of the world."