All language subtitles for Victoria - 01x07 - Engine of Change.fhd.1080.bluray.English.HI.C.updated.Addic7ed.com

♪ Gloriana

♪ Hallelujah

♪ Gloriana

♪ Hallelujah

♪ Gloriana

♪ Hallelujah

♪ Hallelujah

(Horse neighs)

(Classical music playing)

Ripped & Corrected By mstoll

Georg Friedrich Handel.

German.

(Clears throat)

(Music stops)

- Are you all right?
- It's nothing.

I am bilious. Quickly!

Her Majesty is quite the
little jack-in-the-box.

- Women are queer cattle.
- (Laughs)

Of what do you gentlemen speak?

The music, sir.
It is very... well-constructed.

(Murmuring)

(Music resumes)

I felt unwell.

It was disagreeable. It's over now.

(Groans) Oh, Lord.

It was nothing compared
to the spectacle

of Peel perspiring with the effort
of being charming.

Although I have to admit,
I'm strangely drawn to Peel.

He's... direct. Like me.

And also, I'm told he's
an aficionado of the railway.

Don't talk railway at me.

Half the people in this box

are moaning about incursions
on their property.

They are wrong.

We stand on the brink of a modern revolution,
Victoria.

Of science. Embrace it.

Go to these places
of new manufacturing.

You say manufacturing
and my soul shrivels with boredom.

Mine does not.

You should be the champion
of what is coming.

Rather too much "should".

- You're tired.
- I'm not tired.

Then, my dear... you must be ill.

I'm not ill.

I shall send for the doctor.

Albert, I don't... I don't want a doctor.

Your Queen is sick.

Oh, we don't say "sick".
We say "indisposed".

Well, she is "indisposed"
out of her mouth.

What's that?

The cure for every ailment
known to woman...

...chocolat.
- Hot chocolate? Really?

Ah, ah, ah...

Mm!

Why don't you give her
one of your little wafers to dip in?

(Crunching)

You're in the wrong job,
Miss Skerrett.

Thank you. I'll get this
to the Queen directly.

Can't fix what she's got
with chocolate.

She says, "No doctor",
then she sends for the doctor...

Goodbye, Doctor Clark.

What did the doctor say?

Tell me, please. There's
nothing we cannot face.

(Sniffs loudly)

Enciente. There is no... polite English word.

You are with child?

That's...

That's magnificent.

You are magnificent.

I'm afraid.

No.

Is it safe to announce?

(Applause)

- I know my duty.
- Very good, Lord Chamberlain.

HRH didn't dilly-dally.

(Applause continues)

Ma'am.

- What is it?
- Brandy mixed with cream.

It eliminates nausea.

Is it medically demonstrable?

Ask any woman
who has conceived.

Listen to me.
Your nurse is a virgin,

your husband is a man,
your doctor is a fool.

Directly after luncheon
you must go to bed,

lay down on your back
without moving till dinner.

Dinner shall be preparations
of the vital organs.

The brain, liver, the lungs.

Affairs of state...

Drina, this is your affair of state.

Affairs? Let Albert do them for you.

Let him do everything for you.

Will he also give birth for me, Mama?

Remember Charlotte.

Her death in labour
is the reason you're Queen.

I've work to do.

Baroness, you put me off my stroke.

The Queen must have sweetbreads in broth.

I know, yes, I'll see to it directly,

but if I cock this mayonnaise...

Her Majesty's dietary requirements take...

Curdled!

All she had to do was look at it.

- Take this.
- Make it again.

No.

I'm not an imbecile.

I grasp that the constitution demands an heir

and that I must produce it, but...

to make me feel
I own no other function...

Your mother is er...

...of her generation.

The world is leaving her behind.
She's afraid.

You are going to look at my body
and be revolted. I...

I know it.

My desire for you will never fail.

A love like ours can burn down a city.

(Door opens)

The Lord Chamberlain,
Your Majesty.

My Lord. This is my private time.

Speak freely before the Prince.

I shall be offended if you don't.

The court rejoices in your news.

But? Your eyes are full of "but".

Childbirth is a hazardous business.

You want to know
what will happen if I die.

I understand.

It is your duty to consider
what would happen next.

Specifically, ma'am,
if the child survived you.

It is incumbent upon Your Majesty

to nominate a Regent

for the approval of Parliament.

Well, that, my Lord, is something I can do
without a moment's hesitation.

And so the torpid Teuton
wedges himself yet further

into the sagging cleft of power!

It's unconscionable!

If the Queen dies,
are we to be ruled by a German?

We already are.

Cumberland would crawl over broken glass
for a crack at the Regency.

Parliament, of course, must ratify.

Of course it must.

I hear you are already acquainted
with the Prince, Peel.

The Queen is stubborn.

You must convince Albert
to reconsider.

If the Tories fail to condone your Regency...

...I will abdicate.

- No, you will not.
- I will.

You can't abdicate.
You're not the monarch.

Then I will merely leave.

Then I will merely kill myself.

- Then I will remarry.
- (Laughs) Ridiculous!

Who will you marry?

Wellington? Peel? Maybe both.

(Door opens)

- Cumberland shall be my mistress.
- (Laughs)

Drina... Laughter is bad for baby.

One day, I'll put her on a donkey
and pack her off to Carlisle.

- (Door closes)
- Carlisle?

County town of Cumberland.

Celebrated for textiles.
Adjacent is Northumberland,

rejoicing in the digging of coal.

You see, it is not your mother
you should be sending north.

You're determined to see me dragged around
some morbid display of traction engines.

Send me.

Why?

Otherwise I feel the people
may not accept me as their Regent.

I'm not dead yet.

Don't be childish.

If you would prefer not to be Regent
when I am dead...

No, what I would prefer, Victoria,

is to exercise just a little power
while you are alive.

Power must be seen to come from me.

For you... I order a trip north.

An expedition into the dark heart
of the Tory Shires

where I shall fanfare you as Regent.

Oh, no. I do not seriously
expect you to travel.

The latest research in Germany

suggests a woman in pregnancy
should not exert herself.

But I am not a German woman.

I am the Queen of England.

Chillington Hall, ma'am, is well situated
for your research, being in Staffordshire.

It is also close to Drayton,

- Sir Robert Peel's residence.
- Oh, Lord.

Your host, Sir Piers Giffard,

is, by all accounts,
an old-fashioned gentleman

and a Tory as well.

But he begs to receive Her Majesty
and her entourage.

Contrary to general belief,
I'm not actually frightened of Tories.

Can we define "entourage"?

King Charles I, ma'am,
made such excursions

with what he called his "modest night bag".

A company of 500 horse.

Not an easy guest!

One is anxious not to end one's reign
as did King Charles.

We shall be attended by a very few.

Jenkins. Your Royal Highness?

Oh, erm, Lohlein is all I require.

Baroness, you, of course.

Can't travel without my dear Lehzen.

Surely, dear, Baroness is needed here
to administrate...

Penge can administrate the household.
It's what he's for.

We shall be so light,
we shall travel like the wind.

No, Mama. You shall remain here.

Harriet, you attend to the Duchess
in my absence.

Can your husband spare you?

He will not notice I'm gone, ma'am.

This, apparently, is the very discomfort
the railway eliminates.

The vehicle runs on wheels
which have... flanges,

I learnt this word, which fit precisely

- into the inner tracks...
- I think we need to stop.

Please, stay here.

Why do you grab me with that, Lehzen?

It doesn't appear to be raining.

It was... in case Your
Majesty was indisposed.

Oh, dearest Lehzen.

Always thinking of me.
I just needed some air.

You know, the whole world would have me
trussed up in bed all day.

It's hardly my style, is it?

(Laughs) What was it you used to say I was?

A little wrigglepants, ma'am.

(Laughs)

(Neighing)

ALBERT: Did you see those
fellows in the field?

They were surveying
the railway, I think.

VICTORIA: My darling, railway is not a subject
to be paraded before the Giffards.

Just be your charming self.
They will adore you.

Last time I saw her she was, what, this high?

- Apparently she still is.
- (Chuckles)

She's here to pimp for his Regency.

Are you randy for it?

Not at any price.

- Your Majesty.
- Sir Piers.

So how does one pass one's time
in Staffordshire?

Ceramics. It is the industry of the region.

It is a favoured occupation of the people.

Well, it seems to be the
case that many artefacts

are created en masse
in the factories.

I would very much like to visit
some of these places.

We hunt, ma'am.

In fact, I've arranged for you and the Prince
to ride out with the Shifnal tomorrow.

You're quite mad.
Her Majesty cannot tax herself

to ride with the hounds in her condition.

Alas, I do not hunt.

I shoot.

A day of driven shooting, then.

Would Your Majesty
find such a prospect diverting?

Excessively diverting.

We shall observe, Lady Beatrice.

I'm confident neither of us
shall find the experience taxing.

Your man's shooting tomorrow.
Does he have the kit?

Hm. In this country,

a gentleman don't set foot in the field
without the kit.

(Sighs) Just see me afterwards.

Crikey, whose are those?

The butler gave these to me for the Prince.

Is correct English for the field.

Those trousers aren't proper kit
for nothing but fancy dress.

A gun wearing white would be a right howler.

- Are you listening to me? Are you listening?
- Yes.

A dark coat. Brown boots. Tall hat.

The older the better.
That's all you need.

No-one shoots in nothing new.
Do you understand?

- Yes.
- Come on, show me what you've brought.

I won't have the Prince embarrassed.

(Dogs barking)

(Yelling)

What are those gentlemen doing?

They're the beaters, sir.
They're driving the birds towards us.

I see. In Thuringia,
we take birds in cages to high towers.

And then they are released.

(Quietly) What a barbaric practice.

(Birds fluttering)

(Birds caw)

- Sausage-eater can hit 'em!
- A most singular man.

Fascinating.

I "wipe your eye", Sir Piers.

Well shot, sir.

Oh. Extraordinary to find you here.

Oh, extraordinary only in that
I do not shoot, Your Majesty.

But I am neighbour to the Giffards.

You do not shoot?

If you instruct me to do so, ma'am,
I shall certainly try

but I am afraid I shall make
a fearful hash of it.

Sport is not my metier. I am unused to it.

Too busy preparing for government.

Now, lunch.

Sir Piers, what is your view of the railway?

Fortunately, sir, I don't
have a view of it here.

I'm plagued by people wanting to
run the thing through my park

but I tell them to cut along sharpish
or I'll set the dogs on 'em.

He's a fan, mind.

You approve of it, Sir Robert?

One must not stand in the
path of progress, sir.

I agree. I believe the railway dissolves the
unnecessary cultural divides of our region.

Men can travel for work. Families unite.

When you say... "our regions", sir,
do you mean the counties of England?

Because you may find that the people of,
for instance,

Staffordshire are rather fond
of the peculiar virtues of their region

and don't necessarily
want it disfigured by iron rails.

As ever, this subject
makes men overstimulated.

Am I right in thinking
you have never seen a locomotive, sir?

That's correct.

Well, there is presently
one on my property at Drayton.

It is quite adjacent.

It would be my pleasure
to offer you all a demonstration.

Excellent. Excellent.

Victoria?

Alas, Sir Robert,
I think we should let our host

devise the programme of activity.

Your Majesty is pale.

It is too silly of us to expect
you to remain at table.

- So fatiguing...
- I am quite well, thank you.

...when baby is being mischievous.

Would you care to rest, ma'am?

I think I shall explore.

Alone.

(Whispers) You count as alone.

To look up over one's stew

and see Peel fidgeting with the silver

and simpering over my husband...

Albert doesn't know how to talk.
He refuses to dissemble.

He only ever says
exactly what he means

and amongst people like the Giffards, it's...

...hopeless.

Oh, say something, Lehzen.

You're allowed to say something.

Sir Robert reminds me of an exhibit
I saw in Salzburg.

It was a big frog. Stuffed.

You accuse Sir Robert
of looking like a stuffed frog?

(Both laugh)

Now listen to me, Peel.
I know you've had disappointments in your life.

Harrow, so forth.

But the future belongs to the Tories

and the Tories belong to you.

Toast with the port, damn you.

So make yourself fit for us.

In what respect am I not fit?

You pander to the railway

when you should be chasing
the bastards off your land.

You poodlefake and pussyfoot
about the gormless German.

It's perfectly clear
why they've invited themselves here.

The only reason he talks to you
is to ginger up support for his Regency.

An office you shall not allow him.

Wellington's not too old to take the reins,
you know.

Just saying.

(Clock ticks)

You imagine I resent being left here
by the Queen.

Well, you are correct.

It's never nice
being left behind, Duchess.

Did you make that just for me?

Well, you are now my official taster.

That's extraordinary. (Laughs)

You know what would make that even better?

- Here we go.
- Cover it in hot chocolate.

I think, Miss Skerrett,
you might be a genius.

(Laughs)

Forgive me, darling, but...

sometimes you're too direct
when you speak.

Men like Giffard, they
recoil from enthusiasm.

They find it un-English.

Please, from now on,
let me guide the conversation.

I'm sorry about the locomotive.

But we must proceed carefully.

- (Speaks in German)
- Speak English.

I have this morning sent a note
to Sir Robert Peel.

Today, I see the locomotive.

Albert?

That is the most magnificent thing
I have ever seen.

(Horse whinnies)

- Good day.
- Your Highness.

Morning. Would you show
His Royal Highness the controls, please?

These levers control the valves.

Pedal engages the eccentrics.

Regulator controls the motion.

Moderates the flow of steam.

Let's go.

Now please, Your Worships,
you can take a seat in the carriage.

Carriage be damned.

We ride here.

(Hissing)

(Whistle)

I said I wished to be alone.

Shall I go, Majesty?

No.

You haven't eaten your beetroot, ma'am.

I can't bear this. Where is he?

(Whistle)

This is the future!

- Yes, sir.
- (Whistle)

How is the Queen?

Wanting the most peculiar
things for breakfast.

This morning she had to have beetroot,
a vegetable.

It's revolting. She's rather cross that HRH
has gone off somewhere without her.

Also without me, but...

for a man, it is essential to have space.
To breathe.

It's not only men who need a breather
from matrimony, my dear.

Er, the butler said that in the country

the Prince must sing
as he's being undressed.

- I am to encourage this.
- Sing?

- Yes.
- Anything in particular?

- God Save The Queen.
- Good heavens.

You've been had, boy.

This butler wants your master to look a fool.

- Why?
- Because these people like the Giffards

and their servants,
they're all the same.

Got to keep the old ways.

Anything that is young and new is a threat.

The Queen, the Prince, you.
You're what's next.

You scare them.

- I'm going for a walk.
- Without the Prince?

Sir Piers.

Ma'am?

As we are presently unencumbered
by other guests,

may I ask where you stand
on the matter of the Regency?

This is surely a matter, ma'am,
that is purely hypothetical?

Parliament is not hypothetical.

Its members must condone
my selection.

Condone or condemn.

What would you advise them to do?

What all men of honour must do, ma'am.

Follow their consciences.

Weasel.

(Whistle)

Sir Robert, do you consort with me

because you seek my favour
for your political advantage?

No, sir. Do you consort with me

because you seek my influence
to ratify your Regency?

No.

Although that would be rather helpful.
Perhaps I should.

I like you, Sir Robert.

I mean, I famously have no taste, of course.
I'm German.

- (Laughs)
- There it is.

I am glad of it, sir.

There it is.

(Whistle)

Does your hand contain royalty?

As a matter of fact, it does.

A prince?

Of course, I mean knave.

Ernest is not an honest man, Harriet.

I'm a married woman, Duchess.

You've got children.

As I had Victoria.

(Horse and carriage approaching)

(Inaudible)

How dare you.

My dear, I did not want to wake you.

It is such an insult.

It's not an insult, Victoria.

It was merely me embracing England's destiny
on your behalf.

It is not your place to do things
on my behalf!

If I wish to bring railways, or anything,
to the attention of the English people,

then, Albert, I shall do it myself!

And if you answer back using the
word "future", I shall scream!

I decide what is the future.

What if you had been killed?

Do you not care at all
about our unborn child?

Look at you. You look like a peasant.

- I'm not the one eating beetroot.
- What!

- What is wrong with beetroot?
- It's peasant food.

That is ridiculous! Possibly in your country,
not in mine...

This is my country!

Victoria, I seek only to serve it.

And yourself.

(Clears throat) Dining with the Queen,
Mr Francatelli?

Where's the Queen?

She didn't shed a rod,
her wheels didn't fall off...

...and she didn't kill Prince Albert.

I call it a success.
Your blooming good health, boys.

ALL: Good health.
- (Horse whinnies)

Oh, Christ.

(Hissing)

(Gears grinding)

(Whistle)

(Whistle)

Victoria! Victoria!

You like it?

- I love it!
- What?

I said I love it!

(Whistle)

Now.

(Laughs)

- (Pings)
- (Laughs)

It's wonderful.

You know what you ought to do?

Call it... a bomb surprise.

Because it looks like a bomb, yeah?

- And it's a surprise!
- (Both laugh)

La bombe surprise...

Mr Francatelli's bombe surprise.

- You invented it.
- No, you invented it.

We invented it.

It won't wash, Peel.

What won't, Sir Piers?

Licking up to the Queen's husband

and giving him a ride
on your ruddy infernal machine.

It is not an adult way to solicit power.

The Prince has no power to be solicited.

Oh, you're wrong.

With respect.

You know, Sir Piers,
I rather enjoyed riding on the railway.

I commend the experience to you.

You might find it enlightening.

I am most grateful for Your Majesty's advice.

It is a mistake to make one's mind up
about a thing before one's tried it.

Don't you think?
The world is on the move, Sir Piers.

Keep up.

(Footman shouts to horses)

(Horse neighs)

(Footman shouts to horses)

My darling. Whatever is the matter?

(Sobs)

I am frightened of the pain.

There will be pain, yes, but...

I wish I could endure it for you.
But, Victoria, listen to me. Listen...

You are strong.

Childbirth is surely an ordeal,
but you are equal to it.

You have such... such fortitude.

It was wrong of me.

(Sniffs)

Peel. The engine. To go alone.

No, not... not necessarily.

You will allow me to share
the burden of your duties?

Albert...

...please.

The Scots, you know, they...
they have a curious expression.

"Softly, softly, catchee monkey."

Who is this monkey?

You are my monkey.

(Bells chime)

Did you see the Giffards
sniggering up their noses at me?

(Chuckles)

My dear, you look so well.

Thank you, Mama.

Expeditions clearly agree with us.

I am afraid I didn't drink your medicine.

(Chuckles) The baby will
tell you what it wants.

Welcome home.

(Clears throat)
Are we paying attention?

The Queen has requested
a dish of bacon and peas.

Is bacon suitable?

Medical suitability has been suspended.

- Bacon, Mr Francatelli.
- And peas, Mr Penge.

- And peas.
- Post-haste. And for the Prince?

The Prince dines with the Queen.

Double bacon and peas!

It is Her Majesty's wish that her husband
be Prince Regent

- and I believe it is the correct choice.
- (Murmurs)

You promote the costive Coburg
as our Regent?

- I do not promote the Prince.
- The man is a menace and a boor.

I endorse the decision of my Queen.

(Jeering)

If you wish to make farmyard noises,

I suggest you cross the floor
to Palmerston's sty

where that species of behaviour is tolerated.

This is the party of gentlemen.

Is that understood?

Let the Speaker be informed
that the Tories wholeheartedly

support Her Majesty's choice of Regent.

There it is.

Well, if none of us has the moral courage
to stand up to Peel,

I... I suggest we back him.

Is that understood?

(Door opens)

(Whispering) The frog is here.

Wishing to croak at you.

I shall send him away.

No.

Tell Sir Robert I shall
be pleased to see him.

- Your Majesty.
- Sir Robert.

You look rather more at home here
than you do in a muddy field.

It's late. This must be important.

It is indeed, ma'am.

I beg to inform Her Majesty
that in the unfortunate event of her death,

her selection of Regent has the full support
of the Tory party.

That is encouraging news.
But quite academic.

As you see, I am far too busy to die.

(Peel laughs)

(Chuckles)

Cotton. Whereabouts is cotton mostly?

Manchester.

Yes. Rather more your
sort of thing than mine.

Most of this contains industry.

Ripped & Corrected By mstoll