Original subtitles

He says: 'The King's visit resulted in licentious behaviour.'

Licentious behaviour.

I consider that an understatement. The town was positively bachic.

But at least Monsieur Falcoz has the grace not to mention that idiot Moirod's lack of horsemanship,

Who brought this? - A boy,

A boy. What boy? - Just a boy, sir,

What's wrong?

Leave the child.

You, sir, are here to teach, not play,

That is your sole function here - to teach!

He knows.

Do exactly as I say.

Madame, your little game is known to me

From the ingering affection I bear you, l beg you to renounce the little.,.

.,. peasant.

Yes, peasant.

Sir!

Here is an abomination some whelp pressed into my hands on my way to Mass,

One thing I must demand, for my own reputation is that you dismiss the boy Sorel forthwith.

Am I worthy of your love?

Madame.

Why do you delay? Call the boy. Pay him off with a few francs.

Not perhaps a trifle unjust if the man is as innocent in all this as you?

He can easily find another post

with Monsieur Valenod, for example,

Valenod? My dear, let's not be too hasty -

If you don't dismiss him, I will, this instant.

You really want him gone?

I have held our peasant in little esteem since he refused to marry Elisa

merely because once in a while she kept secret tryst with Monsieur Valenod.

She did what? Who told you that? Elisa and Valenod -

Oh sir, that is an old tale.

One that I am not aware of,

Monsieur Valenod is most liberal in his affections.

There cannot be a woman in the region

who has not received letters of admiration from that particular gallant,

Letters? Valenod has written you letters?

Frequently, - Show them me immediately,

Another day when you are more yourself, - Now. I command it,

Sir. I do not wish to be the cause of discontent between you and our Prison Governor,

Swear that you will not - - I will swear nothing. Where are they?

In my desk, but I'll not surrender the key until -

You will not deter me, madame.

Go, Pay call on Monsieur Valenod, Leave now.

These,., these are written on the same paper as my letter,

Your letter?

You too have received a letter?

And yet you did not speak of this to me?

Sir, Is there anything in those to hint that l so much as vouchsafed Monsieur Valenod a smile?

And yet,.,

You can conceive,., that l.,. with some peasant's brat!

I 'll challenge the villain to a duel, - And confirm the rumours?

Thank you, sir. You take so great a care of my honour.

What am I to do? - Dismiss the boy.

Excuse me,

Where have you been, sir? - With Monsieur Valenod.

Where? - He had invited me to call.

To this hour?

He very kindly extended the invitation to dinner,

And did you have an agreeable time, sir?

Most,

All this to destroy me, and gain the services of my servant?

No,

I'll not fall for Valenod's little trap.

Benedixio, dei omnipotentis patris, fili et spiritus sancti

descendit super te et marne et semper.

Children!

Father!

Father!

I have come to say goodbye, Julian. It's over for me now.

I have heard my last confession.

How could they, father? - I have not come for sympathy,

But to try to save you.

From what, master?

People believe we priests hear everything first,

No. The world merely confesses to us what it already knows,

Our only hope is that sometimes there's a moment to intervene

before it acts upon its knowledge.

You know?

Say nothing.

I want no more confessions,

I have arranged.,. an old friend,., the Abbé Pirard.,.

You are to enter his seminary at Besançon immediately.

I am not sure of the wisdom of this course

but it is all I can do to save you from the wrath of the world.

Father. - No, don't,

This is a spiritual question.

I fear it would be more than churlish to come between a man and his God.

At least it means he is not running to Valenod,

And it does resolve your particular desire as well, my dear.

Doesn't it?

To arms!

My purgatory. Priests, prayers and false piety.

Is there no other way forward, for a man of courage, than on his bended knees?

Am I a coward?

It is no cowardice, sir, to prepare oneself for the act of war.

Here is where the power lies now.

Take heart. sir.

A man of destiny will not remain here long,

I am Monsier Pirard. the rector of this seminary.

And you, sir, are late,

Are you sincere, Monsieur Sorel? Are you sincere?

Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. - Are you given to fainting?

No, father. - Then what was the cause?

Beware smiling, beautiful faces.

They can be the mask of falsehood, the theatre of duplicity,

Truth here is austere, You understand me?

Yes, father.

Name your sins,

Why? Why doesn't she write to me?

Has she deserted me as your wives did you?

Can no-one tell me how to survive through this?

Why do you not answer my letters?

It adds to my hell in a way that nothing else could,

I can face damnation but to be unloved.,.

The past few months have been beyond pain.

Pain suggests at least the possibility of pleasure, if only in memory,

Heaven may perhaps permit me not to hate the author of my shame

whom I shall always hold more precious than the entire world

but myself,.,

The sacrifice is made,

I dedicate myself to the salvation of those to whom I am bound

and those you held so dear,

The sacrifice is not made. as you can see, without tears.

Farewell, Julien.

Be true.

At least the boy has not loved a woman of impiety,

This much can be hidden.

The government has no real nor legitimate power

save that delegated to it by God's vicar on Earth,

So serve not the weak and expect reward,

The power of the Church knows no bounds

neither does the Pope's generous bounty towards his servants.

Why, my friends, I have known the mountain parishes

where the priests' rewards were greater than that of some cities,

And not only in his fees, but also in fat gabons, sausage, meats

an endless stream of butter, eggs, milk, delicious delicacies,

In such places, the curé rules supreme,

No good dinner would pass without his presence.

Not to your taste, Monsieur Sorel?

A fine capon not good enough for you then, our Mister Luther?

You were asked a question, brother. Or do you not deem us worthy of your wit?

I am as fond of capon as the next,

And sausage, Tell us how you love sausage,

I worship sausage. For me, as it is with you, sausage is my very sacrament,

Kindly observe, sir, I signed out of the seminary at exactly six minutes to six,

And it is now exactly one minute to. - My dear boy.,.

I also request that during the day I not be left out of your sight for one moment,

Afraid of the story-tellers at the seminary?

To work, my friend, to work.

Are you afraid of heights? They are,

The treasures, my son, guard the treasures,

This is the hour when the church is empty.

They even steal the lace trimmings.

You to the North, I to the South.

Beware confessionals. that's where the women like to hide,

Go! Go! Don't you understand? Have you no shame?

Are you faint, my son?

Too much exertion,

But you have done well, my son,

Come.

Why should you feel shame?

You meant her no harm.

But she obviously feels that.

Then she betrays your love, sir!

Don't misdirect your anger, sir,

They come from large and starving families.

Don't judge them for wearing black to gain their daily bread,

They do not besmirch the dignity of the Church but are exactly what it wants -

an army that asks no questions but advances on its belly,

Don't look to what the troops are doing but to what the generals intend.

Where is the Abbé Pirard?

Thank you for your concern, I will not forget it,

I am not in ill health. though rumour may have it so.

But I will soon be forced to leave here as punishment for my crime

if crime it be to stand against intrigue

and instil intelligence in my students in preference to indulgence.

If in any way I might be of any service,.,

There is very little left in my power but if you head the lists for the examinations

I intend conferring on you the post of New Testament Tutor,

That at least might save you from the hounds,

What are you doing?

Foolish, foolish boy, I fear for you,

Trust in God, not in man. Go,

Father, I will not disappoint you,

Ego Alpha et Omega,., primus et novissimus, principium et finis,

Beati, qui lavant stolus suas ut sit potestas eorum super lignum viate,

et portis intrent et civitatem,

Foris canes et venefinci et impudici et homicidae idoles servientes et omnis

qui amat et facit mendacium,

Monsieur Sorel, we are impressed with your knowledge of Latin and the Scriptures.

Indeed we are, However.,.

The Abbé de Frilair.

I am nothing but admiration,

But is your landscape of the Golden Age limited only to the Scriptures?

Does it not include the great poets and thinkers of that time?

What of Virgil? Horace?

Monsieur Sorel, have we now tracked down the borders of your learning?

In primis Lucanus aper: Ieni fuit Austro captus

ut aiebat coenae pater.

Acria circum rapula, lactucae, radices

qualia lassum pervellunt stomachum

siser. allec. faecula Coa-

Why stop, my friend?

Monsieur Sorel recites from Horace of a splendid meal

with 'wild boar, turnips, lettuces, radishes - such things as whet a jaded appetite. '

No doubt a prelude to some Roman orgy.

And do you know by heart the love poems of this pagan author?

Claude Jouvet.

Alexander Beyle,

Paul Garat,

Michel Moreau.

Julien Sorel.

Julien Sorel.

Hail Mary, full of grace,

The Lord is with you, blessed art thou amongst women,

Blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus -

Who is it?

A friend,

Why do you haunt me?

Because you betrayed our love.

Why, why did you never write?

Did our love mean nothing to you?

I wrote every day for months,

It is too late to speak of this,

The priests have taught me to repent my love.

No, - Yes.

Leave me to my penance. Go, Julien. I am beyond your touch now.

Is it that easy?

Then I will leave,

And I swear to go where you will never have see me again,

I leave for Paris.

Paris.

Yes, my one true friend has found me a post there.

Paris, You come back just to torment me?

Devil!

Forgive me. I never dreamt my love would be a curse,

That spy, Elisa, nearly caught me,

I don't think she ever sleeps,

In the year since you've been gone, her eyes have never left me.

She whispers to my husband all the time,

And to the town. no doubt,

I am constantly watched over,

The priests visit regularly to guide my soul.

The world has spent so much time in watching us both, Julien.

Why? Are we so important?

I don't want to Ieave.

Hide me in your closet. Feed me from your hand.

Parade the children outside the window. I want to see how much they've grown,

Touch me,

Madame!

Open this door,

Watched, Watched everywhere,

Why have you locked this door, Madame?

He'll kill us both. Go.

I won't leave -

You'll have a life beyond, Go.

Do you hear me? - Confess nothing,

Confess nothing!

Retreat is never dignified,

Go!

You are about to work in one of the most powerful houses in Paris.

Julien. - Father?

The Marquis de la Mole is a man of considerable influence,

But he is also a man possessed by caprice.

Which is the main reason that we are both under his patronage.

It amuses him to raise up the victims of his old enemy, the Abbé de Frilair,

Beyond that, however, we will have to prove our worth.

He seeks as his secretary a man he can trust.

I have personally vouched for your sincerity,

I would also caution you to be wary of the family,

While their ancestors fought in the Crusades, yours are merely carpenters.

And they are bound to look down on you.

Sir, it seems to me I am not long for Paris.

There is little hope of advancement for men like us

without the patronage of the great nobles,

However, if life amongst these capricious souls becomes unendurable, come to me,

I will share my living equally with you,

Sir, my father hated me from the cradle,

I have always considered that my greatest misfortune,

However, I shall no longer complain.

Now I have found a true father in you.

Speak not of fortune. Only of providence,

They hide behind high walls. Do they fear a revolution so much?

That is the one question never to be voiced.

Out. sir.

Not you, sir,

What are you doing here?

I thought.,. - No, sir, you did not think.

Sit.

I am surrounded by sycophants, Monsieur Sorel,

I am assured you will not add to the ranks

in which case you constitute a divine blessing,

Copy these letters, I understand you have a prodigious memory,

In a month I'll expect you to know their varying forms by heart

and to be able to write variants of them with only the smallest of directions from me.

Is this possible? - Yes, sir,

Mea culpa. I omitted to mention that for dinner, you must dress,

Stockings, sir,

Respect yourself, my friend,

Monsieur Sorel, my wife, the Marquise de la Mole,

The Bishop of Adge.

My very good friend, the academician, Monsieur Gilbert, his charming wife -

Monsieur Tanbeau, his nephew, you've already,.,

Ah, the Comte de Crasenois, a sobering influence on both my children,

Where are they? Late, as usual, We will not wait.

I 'm not late, father.

And where is your sister?

I am not my sister's keeper, sir. And pity any man who would be,

Norbert. this is Monsieur Sorel, my new secretary,

I ask you to watch over him.

It will be my pleasure, sir.

Let us lay open the heart of the question.

Does a man create greater poetry out of a state of leisure

wherein he may write from a sense of personal joy

fulfilment, or from the very imperative of survival, the need to earn his daily bread?

Ease creates poetry, vocation simply manufactures verse,

Was not La Fontaine and Chapelle engaged in the act of self-diversion -

But what of the British Poet Laureate, Southey, who never composed a line except for gain?

One can hardly say that diminished his worth,

He was a far lesser poet than the man he traduced.

And whom would that be. mademoiselle?

The great Lord Byron.

Mathilde,

Forgive me, mother, I was deep in contemplation,

Let us anchor ourselves to the classic poets

where there is perhaps less debate on their individual merit.

But we know precious little of their lives.

Horace, for example, was he a rich man or poor?

Did he write to eat, or eat to write?

Julien?

The word is that you are something of a classical scholar yourself, Monsieur Sorel.

Or is your knowledge merely limited to scripture?

Perhaps those profane poets hold not interest for you.

Si bene te novi, scurrantis speciem praebere

professus amicum ut matrona meretrici dispar erit atque.,.

discolor,., scurrae.,.

Discolor, infido scurrae distabit amicus.

Est huic diversum vitio vitium prope majus, asperitas agrestis et inconcinna gravisque

quae se commendat tonsa cute, dentibus atris

dum vult libertas dici mera, veraque virtus.

Whether Horace wrote for pleasure or for profit, I cannot say.

It is my belief, however, he wrote out of a search for virtue,

Past loves, Julien.

They are like old campaigns. The outcome can never be changed.

Monsieur et Madame St Clair.

Your propechy was correct, my friend,

The boy is both diligent and highly intelligent. If a trifle solemn.

He's hardly left the library since he arrived

and I fear he finds these evenings somewhat painful for his pious soul.

Then perhaps we should relieve him of his suffering, and ourselves of embarrassment.

Certainly not, my dear,

Father Pirard and I are set to see how he might shine with a little polish,

Monsieur Decoulis, - Spare me more petitions,

Monsieur Decoulis has left off his wig to show us his learned brow.

No doubt he is hoping to secure the Légion d'Honneur,

The fellow deals in millions. Why does he come here to suffer my father's jibes?

The other day he shouted at him

'How many friends have you betrayed today, my dear Descoulis? '

So the man is deceitful? Who is not?

Monsieur Sorel, enlighten me,

What is the height of the citadel at Besançon? ç

Is it higher than that of Montmartre?

Monsieur le Baron Baton.

Well I think.,. - Monsieur le Baron Baton.

It's a ridiculous name.

A den of villains.

Father, is there no way to be spared this?

I was less bored at the seminary.

You must not expect intellectual distinction.

No-one here would have the bad grace to discuss any topic of merit,

aside from personal advancement.

Let me take you to a place you might find more congenial.

What an ugly man.

Why, why is there no political vision?

Why are we cursed with a deadness of aspiration?

The reason is very simple.

In the last fourteen or fifteen years since the so-called Restoration

the powers have sought to put back the clock,

The petty have returned to possess the world.

Men of meagre spirit, who count life and love only in coins,

Oh, it happens not just here, but across Europe.

We've entered an epoch without heart, devoid of soul -

That is why people are so bored. Nothing is of consequence.

We even commit cruelties, without passion,

All the worse! If one is to commit a crime, it should be done at least with pleasure,

That's the only excuse that can justify them,

Perhaps you are right, sir.

We live our lives, we do nothing with joy, so we remember nothing, not even our crimes,

Your crime was not to kill,

The revolution Count Altamira led was unsuccessful because he would not cut off three heads.

Three heads sacrificed to the King would have brought political concession -

And perhaps betrayed the dream of freedom.

No,

Does the end justify the means?

I would have sacrificed three heads to save the lives of four,

That is hardly a religious conviction,

Religion and freedom do not walk hand in hand in our world,

But they can walk together.

For the question of freedom is a spiritual one,

It is a faith.

An aspiration of the heart.

She was one of the three heads they asked for,

Those, those are the men and women you still inspire!

It is no longer enough.

It will be.

It must be!

What is the meaning of this impudence, sir?

Explain yourself!

Have we lost the power of words, sir? Then what of action?

Sir, your address? I scorn you,

I scorn you, sir,

You little shit, Shit on your shoes, Shit on your neck.

Satisfaction. sir. I am entitled.,. - You're a coward,

Give him satisfaction.

Your card. sir!

Give him your address, or be damned as a coward, Go on.

Once upon a time, we'd have shot his sort like a dog,

That's exactly what I intend to do. - Good man.

The Légion d'Honneur,

Got this in the days it meant something, sir.

Lieven. Lieutenant retired 96th,

Battle of Leipzig. Under General Marmont.

Would you do me the honour of being my second, sir?

On one condition. If you miss him, you fight me next,

Agreed,

Monsieur Sorel?

I am afraid you have the advantage over me,

You have my card, but I am not aware of our acquaintance.

You are the Comte de Beauvoisis? - So my lawyers would have me believe,

To what do I owe the pleasure?

I have come to fight you, sire,

Well. I will. of course. be honoured to accommodate you,

However, would you deem it impudence if l enquired in what manner I have given offence?

The man who insulted me offered me your card.

But I am not he?

No, sir, I fear there has been some mistake.

Well. this is an unusual and delicate situation.

If you feel my obvious lassitude in respect of disposing of my cards -

In now way, sir. I do not hold you responsible for what has clearly been misappropriated,

However, I am also aware of the manner of my unwarranted intrusion on your privacy and if,.,

There has been no intrusion. sir.

You are most gracious, sir.

Sir? - That was the miscreant. Your coachman,

He is dismissed forthwith.

But you must appreciate, sir

that I can hardly permit the beating of my servants by anybody other than myself.

Of course,

Follow me to the Bois de Boulogne.

I'll acquire a second on the way.

You drive me.

You know how to shoot. sir?