Madame la comtesse.
Bien?
Un certain Monsieur Frank Harris est dehors.
Fait I'entrer.
Madame.
Monsieur Harris.
My dear Lady Warwick.
Welcome to la Belle France.
- And how long will you be staying? - As short a time as possible.
I've come here only to work. Let that be understood.
The whole of a writer's life is work, my dear lady.
Every moment of existence must be registered in the mind.
Work, work, work. That's all we're born for.
I'm glad to hear it, Mr Harris.
Frank.
If I am to ghost your memoirs for you, you must call me Frank.
You say in your letter you are prepared to reveal all.
Then we must tutoyer, must we not, my dear?
- Very well, Frank. - Good.
Have you brought the love letters?
No.
But surely they're the very framework...
They're much too dangerous to let out of my hands.
You don't trust me.
(Laughs) I trust no-one. I've been deceived and looted enough.
But the publishers will only consider the book if Edward's letters are included.
You will have them, in good time.
First, you must deal with my life.
Now, Daisy, my dear.
Daisy indeed. How familiar.
But we must be on these terms, if I am to do justice to you.
I'm not some mere hack journalist, you know.
I hadn't suggested that.
No.
No. I think perhaps you are one of the few people who might appreciate me.
Naturally.
That's why I've come to you.
Good.
You see,
basically,
I'm a socialist, like you.
I wanted to rid the world of its pomposity, expose it all.
Shall I tell you the final round of your revolution?
Do.
When we all know what happens in one another's beds.
You are a professional shocker, Mr Harris.
You don't expect me to be shocked, do you?
Not you, Daisy, no.
- Tell me, can you write in shorthand? - Of course.
I must warn you, I have no mind for details.
Just the essence, Daisy, that's all I want.
The essence.
Very well. The essence you shall have.
Ready to start scribbling?
When you are.
Let's set about it, then.
Chapter 1.
Courage, Daisy. Courage.
At the latter part of the 19th century,
for a girl who'd previously led a very narrow and protected life,
London could present the most bizarre wonderland of mystery,
eccentricity and worldly possibilities.
I was 17. I was the richest heiress in England.
I knew myself to be beautiful. And it was the year of my coming out.
♪ Daisy Bell
♪ Daisy, Daisy
♪ Give me your answer, do
♪ I'm half crazy
♪ All for the love of you
♪ It won't be a stylish marriage
♪ I can't afford a carriage
♪ But you'll look sweet
♪ Upon the seat
♪ Of a bicycle built for two
It did not take me long to discover there were two distinct sections of London society.
There was a group around the ultra-exclusive court of Queen Victoria's widowhood.
(Man singing)
♪ As I did when you took my name
♪ But it's only a beautiful picture
♪ In a beautiful golden frame
Fortunately, there was another group called the Marlborough House Set -
the young, and the fun-loving - surrounding Edward, The Prince of Wales.
I say to you,
on behalf of our beloved British Empire, let the battle commence!
♪ FUCIK: Entrance Of The Gladiators
(Screams)
I know you. You're Benjamin Disraeli.
Dizzy.
(Gasps) Your pardon, sir.
I always permit charming little girls to call me Dizzy.
I've been warned about you, sir.
Then you have been prepared for the worst.
Allow me to show you my Houses of Parliament some time.
I find that remark highly impertinent, sir.
Tonight, I am taking you to the theatre.
You certainly are not.
We shall see Mr Henry Irving and Miss Ellen Terry in Romeo And Juliet.
- Oh, no, we don't. - Oh, yes, we do.
- I'm sorry, I'm otherwise engaged. - What? And so soon in town?
- I'm not fibbing. - Not fibbing?
I don't tell fibs.
Then whatever appointment you have made, you must break it.
Oh. Must I?
Look at me, dear child.
- It is by royal command. - I'm sorry...
It has been commanded, by Her Gracious Majesty, our beloved Queen.
- (Whispers) The Queen? - Do not be afraid, sweet charmer.
Her Majesty knows you are in town,
and at my audience this afternoon, she said to me,
"Prime Minister, we would like you to test the girl out."
Mr Disraeli!
For myself.
There is much fire in those eyes, a furnace of passion.
Come, child. To the play.
ROMEO: Soft. What light through yonder window breaks?
It is the East, and Juliet is the sun!
DAIS Y: So a marriage had been arranged for me already. But to whom?
Surely to someone very important.
The Prime Minister himself had been ordered to report on my character, and my presence.
And my temperament.
But I was only 17. I was still a schoolgirl.
♪ She's a young thing
♪ And cannot leave her mother!
Young thing or not, before I knew what was happening,
I was summoned to Windsor Castle.
We have had good reports from Lord Beaconsfield concerning your repute.
Tell me, child. Do you draw?
- I do, Your Majesty. - Are you fond of music?
Very much so, Your Majesty.
We are glad to hear it.
Our husband was fond of music.
Lift up your head, child, and let me look at you.
Yes.
Agreed.
Oh, please, Dizzy, you must tell me!
Tell you what, my sweetie?
Whom is it I must marry?
Here he comes now.
Oh! You mean the dashing Lord Brooke, equerry to the Prince?
- Oh, yes, I'll marry him. He's so handsome. - You are more privileged than that, my dear.
What?
Your husband is to be Prince Leopold himself.
Him?
You are about to marry into the Royal Family.
- No. - What's that?
- No! - We need new blood.
- Not mine. - One child. That is all we require of you.
One little baby.
Preferably male.
No!
- No! No! - Daisy...
- No! ♪ Entrance Of The Gladiators
(Whistle)
(Singing)
ALL: ♪ Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!
♪ Yes! Yes!
♪ Yes
- Take me! - My darling!
- Marry me! - Damn it, I will!
Oh!
(Cheering)
♪ Wedding March
(Cheering)
Coming to bed, dear Brookie?
Sorry, dear.
There's something gone wrong with my gun.
You're not out shooting again?
Must keep up with the old sport.
Even though I have got married.
- You're out shooting every day. - Yes.
I think the gun's got overworked, or something.
- Hm? - Yes.
Tell you what, why don't you tuck yourself up in bed, and have a good lie-in, what?
- Oh, Brookie. - Sorry, dear. Must get down to the gun room.
Bung ho.
Oh!
One can hardly blame me for what happened next.
It was as though sweets had been taken from a child.
Besides, amongst the fashionable set of those times,
marriage was the accepted entrée to promiscuity.
While fidelity was merely that dreary virtue of the underprivileged.
And if any furtherjustification is needed,
I can only tell you I'm directly descended from King Charles II and Nell Gwyn.
(Cuckoo call)
My first child was my husband's.
Of that I'm sure.
Concerning my second child...
(Cuckoo calls)
...I cannot quite vouch for the paternity.
For I must admit, that by the time my second accouchement came along,
I'd enjoyed the favours of many lovers.
(Cuckoo calls continue)
Got him! Got him!
(Cuckoo call) - Blast.
♪ Heart of oak are our ships
♪ Heart of oak are our men
♪ We always are ready
Of my third child, the father may well have been my dear darling, Lord Charles Beresford,
son of the Right Honourable, the 4th Marquis of Waterford,
Member of Parliament, and Lord of Her Majesty's Admiralty.
Why so melancholy, my darling?
I've told you.
Berlin this weekend? To see nasty old Bismarck.
You'll be away from me for a month, at least.
Well... we must stoke you up for the journey, mustn't we?
Er... something else.
Oh?
My wife is pregnant.
Pregnant? By whom?
- By you. - Daisy.
- Pregnant by you, your wife? - Daisy, darling.
- You've been sleeping with her. You told me... - She forced me.
- What? - You shouldn't have laughed at her.
- Me? - Last month, at Easton.
You took her driving in a four-in-hand. She was frightened, the horses went wild.
Your wife's a screaming little mini.
You sat on her on a box, and her wig got caught in a tree.
You should not have laughed.
Up until then, she knew about us, and approved.
It was so funny, seeing her wig hanging from that branch with her hat still pinned to it.
- Ho-ho! You're a devil out of hell, Daisy. - (Laughs)
Don't touch me! You've got her pregnant.
She locked the bedroom door as I was changing out of uniform.
She wanted revenge.
And... I was sorry for her.
Well, you had humiliated her.
Humiliated her? What about me?
The whole of London knows about our affair, the whole of society.
And now they'll say I couldn't satisfy you.
Between giggles, they'll say you had to go to your wife as well.
Very well. Go back to her!
My God, I've had better men than you between breakfast and luncheon.
- Go! It's finished. - Very well, Daisy.
Charlie?
I command you come back.
(Door slams) - Charlie!
Reject me.
(Bell tinkles)
Deliver it immediately. Run!
Never!
Good God.
No, it's impossible.
She says I have no right to have a child by own husband.
Shocking. Shocking!
She orders my husband to desert me.
But to put it in writing, she must be mad.
He must return to her at once, she commands it.
My poor, dear Lady Charles. How can I be of service?
What legal action can I take?
Why, this letter alone provides a whole misery of litigation for her, should you wish it.
- I do. - Then I will be only too happy
- to act on your behalf, Lady Charles. - Thank you.
- I am ever your servant, my lady. - Good day.
(Ping)
Deliver that immediately!
Run!
An action for enticement?
An action for wilful annoyance?
An action for malicious destruction of a marital consortium?
Oh, no, what have I done?
I decided then and there,
there was only one person in the world who could help me out of this mess.
So I wrote to my lover's bosom friend.
None other than His Royal Highness, Edward, The Prince of Wales.
Eins,
zwei,
drei!
Ah, so, Lady Brooke. I had your message.
Your Royal Highness.
We have found a new game.
Sliding down the stairs on tea trays.
We are having a little party tonight. And I must practise.
But they let me win, you see.
Each time they let me win.
But I want to win for me.
Now, sit, girl. Sit.
Oh, no, no, don't sit there. Sit here next to me.
Your Royal Highness.
Cup of tea, champagne, or something?
No, thank you, sir.
Cigarette, then?
Those bloody cigars are bad for the chest.
So I give to society the cigarette.
That will be all, Emile. Go.
Now, then, how can we help a beauty in distress?
I would not have written that message to Your Royal Highness,
had I not known the deep friendship you have for Lord Charles Beresford.
True, true. He has told me many things about you, my dear.
He tells me you're a lady who likes to go riding, and not always side-saddle.
I... I'm going to be dragged through the law courts.
Oh, no.
Oh, no, not the law courts.
The major crime in our society is to make oneself public in such matters.
The solicitor - who is he?
- George Lewis. - Oh, George! Nothing so simple.
The man is after a baronetcy. Just leave it to me.
You'll recover my letter?
And er...
what will you give me in return?
Whatever might please Your Royal Highness.
Good. That's settled, then.
Emile?
Anyone asks for me,
tell them I'm showing some Egyptian pashas around Cleopatra's Needle, or something.
Well, what would you do in my situation? And, after all, he is the heir to the throne.
Come, Daisy.
A bargain is a bargain. Is it not?
I attend Your Royal Highness' pleasure.
♪ Among our ancient mountains
♪ And from our lovely vales
♪ Oh, let the prayer re-echo
♪ God bless the Prince of Wales!
Ah. Now where did I put that bloody Order of the Bath?
(Groans)
Oh, a fine thing.
You send me out in the middle of the night just to recover a bloody letter.
A bargain is a bargain, is it not?
You're cruel to me.
Only one person in the whole of my life has been cruel to me. Mother! I love you!
The hour is very late, Your Royal Highness.
The letter.
As Your Royal Highness pleases.
Such a beautiful woman.
And in such trouble, don't you think?
(Tuts)
The poor dear sweetheart must have taken leave of her senses.
- We must burn it. - No, Your Royal Highness, it is not ours to burn.
By law, the letter is the property of my client Lady Charles.
What would she say or do when she found it was destroyed?
- Tell her to go to hell! - Your pardon, but...
I do have a loyalty to the throne.
For the sake of the Empire...
- What are you saying, man? - I might be willing to betray my client,
under the force majeure of Your Royal Highness.
- Very well, we burn it. - I trust Your Royal Highness
will forgive the impertinence, but...
should Your Royal Highness have formed... a friendship with Lady Brooke,
then will not my client draw conclusions?
I would not wish to see Your Royal Highness in the witness box at the Old Bailey.
Questions will be asked.
What questions?
Your Royal Highness, we are dealing with a case of adultery. It could touch us all.
In that case, we must instruct your client. She must return the letter to Daisy.
That would be strictly against my client's interests, Your Royal Highness.
But you said as our loyal subject, you would betray her.
I said that I might.
Not that I would.
I understand you, Lewis.
Loyalty needs to be recognised.
Should I outlive my mother, I will create you a baronet in my first Honours list.
Now, how is that?
I shall ever remain Your Royal Highness' most humble and obedient servant.
Tell that whore she shall not have the letter.
But, Lady Charles, it is a request from The Prince of Wales himself.
The Prince is sleeping with her.
- She should be in a Jermyn Street brothel. - Return the letter to the Prince.
It will advance you in society.
No!
I am the offended woman.
Yet she uses me to leap into the Prince's bed.
- Where is justice? - Lady Charles, we cannot win.
If you take action, your husband's adultery will be revealed.
You... you will be ousted from society.
I'll oust her.
Write to her.
Tell her that I will return the letter
on the condition that she keeps away from London for the whole of the coming season.
- But... - Those are my terms and generous ones too.
- But, I assure you... - Do it!
(Music from Swan Lake)
(Snoring)
(Groans)
Daisy, my darling. Daisy.
- Teddy, dear. - Hm?
Do you love me?
I adore you.
Only I'm so tired.
Teddy, dear?
Darling?
I've been thinking.
Hm?
You know her lawyer has written to me to say
she'll only return my letter if I stay away from society for the whole of the season?
Don't distress yourself, Daisy.
Don't distress yourself.
Teddy?
Dearest one.
Liebling?
We're going to turn the tables on her.
You do love me, don't you?
So much.
Then listen to me.
You will have it known that you will attend no house parties,
no receptions, no balls, no social gatherings this season,
where her name appears on the list.
Promise me?
I promise. I promise.
Only, I'm tired.
Thank you, dearest one. Thank you.
Now, sleep, dear heart.
(Groans softly)
(Chuckles)
And that's the way I settled her.
Marvellous, Daisy. Wonderful.
You like it, Frank?
The Americans will absolutely adore it.
- May I? - Please do.
I'm giving you the bare bones, that's all.
Trouble is, when a life has been as full as mine,
one can only leap from event to event.
Pure storyline, Daisy, that's all I want.
Your health.
Now, let's see. I was telling you of that time my life
when everything was sheer bubble and levity, wasn't I?
How you edged Lady Charles out of society.
Yes.
Oh, she didn't take it lying down.
She won over her husband,
and he threatened to punch the Prince of Wales on the nose.
(Chuckles)
You, sir, are a loutish swine and a blackguard.
What?!
To protect you, our glorious heir apparent,
I have done everything I can, to persuade my wife to give up that letter,
but how have you helped?
You've touted around the whore who insulted my wife in the first place.
Daisy is not a whore!
I slept with her for three years, so I should know. I wasn't the only man.
- And neither are you! - Watch it! I've a mind to lay you flat.
- Try, and I'll crush you! - You threaten that?
I'm past caring. I should be dead by rights.
In the battle of Abu Klea, every one of my naval officers was either killed or wounded.
And why? Why the bloodshed?
To protect honour, sir. To protect the code of the British Empire.
What is honour to you in this continual persecution of my wife?
I warn you, sir, that should you persist in it,
then on my return from the Med I shall have no hesitation
in calling together the newspapers of the world to make this scandal public!
You silly lad!
I beg Your Royal Highness leave to withdraw.
Daisy!
What did he say to you?
Daisy, have you been having another man beside me?
How dare you! - Lord Randolph Churchill.
- Have you slept with him? - Did he say that?
- I suspect it. - Then you insult me.
I'm not promiscuous. I love only you.
(Sobs) - Ah...
Oh, my own, my own little darling Daisy. Why, forgive me, forgive me.
- (Sobs) How dare he suggest such a thing! - Oh, forget it, forget it.
You will come with me to the Doncaster races next week, yes?
We'll have such fun, hah?
The people in the North, they worship me, you know.
- Such fun, yes? - Where are we staying?
- With Mr Arthur Wilson, you heard of him? - The ship-owner?
Correct. We know these millionaires. They will cater for our every whim.
So one day I give them the tap on the shoulder.
(Both laugh)
But I was unable to accompany the Prince to Doncaster that week,
owing to the sudden death of my stepfather, Lord Rosslyn.
In my absence, poor lonely Teddy spent his nights at Tranby Croft playing baccarat.
But there was a dreadful scandal. And now I must confess to an indiscretion.
So there are you, girls.
Sir William Gordon-Cumming is a common cheat.
And what is more he was caught red-handed.
This is highly-confidential. You mustn't breathe a word of it.
Oh, no.
But they did.
As a result, Sir William brought an action for libel,
and my dear Teddy had to spend nine gruelling days in the witness box.
PROSECUTOR: Then you confess, sir, that you are not only a gambler
but that you play with counters endorsed with The Prince of Wales'feathers?
Yes.
DAIS Y: And when he emerged from the law courts, it was to a hostile crowd.
(Angry shouting)
The Prince of Wales at a gaming table?
We fear that the Church might never survive the scandal, Ma'am.
He is to become the next Defender of the Faith.
Then we must pray to God, my dear Archbishop, that we might be spared to outlive him.
Indeed, Ma'am.
These bloody newspapers are murdering me.
How dare they say it of you. The scurrilous rag!
Good God, it's The Times.
What nation is this?
All the Psalm-sucking English have roused up against me.
And just because I like playing a little with the cards.
Oh, Teddy, don't distress yourself.
You need to be unwound.
Come. Let me unwind you.
No, no, no. No. No, no.
- No, Daisy. This thing between us must stop. - Stop? What do you mean?
If people find out I like a bit of the adultery as well,
then me and Mama can pack our bags,
and sod off back to Saxe-Coburg, where we come from.
- It's as bad as that. - Oh, Teddy, don't be silly.
Abandon me now, the press will be triumphant.
They'll have something to shout about and they will.
No! Your best plan to avoid scandal is to have me dine with your wife.
Make me her special friend.
I'm simply part and parcel of the happy Royal Family.
Oh, my darling Daisy. You think of everything!
So I climbed to the very pinnacle of London society.
But there was one thing I hadn't thought of.
The vengeance of Lady Charles Beresford.
She wrote to Lord Salisbury, who was then Prime Minister.
The Beresfords threaten to tell the public about the Prince.
Expose his every vice.
Well they may. Lord Charles was Edward's closest friend for years.
If the people find out what's been going on in Marlborough House, there'll be a revolution.
This on top of the gaming affair.
The throne will never survive.
If only there were some way of getting our darling Daisy to withdraw from the court.
Withdraw?
That's the only way to satisfy the Beresfords.
- Otherwise, they'll take the action they threaten. - How can we?
If the Prince says his mistress must stay in the court, she stays in the court.
She has him round her little finger.
- Prime Minister? - Well?
Have you approached darling Daisy's husband?
Lord Brooke? What's the use of that?
Fellow has no control over her at all.
He could divorce her.
Divorce? What, and the Prince of Wales as co-respondent? What are you talking about?
Why the Prince?
I'm sure there have been... other men in her life.
You've saved the flag, old man.
(Clears throat) Now, Daisy, I'm sorry to have to do this,
but pressure has been brought to bear.
And I trust I know my duty to Queen and country.
Divorce me?
It is the greatest social disgrace I know, even for the innocent. But I shall try to bear it.
- What about Prince Edward? - His Royal Highness will not come into it.
I am divorcing you on account of the other men you've been sleeping with.
Now, I've added them up.
And, not including myself, of course, I have arrived at a total of 14.
Indeed. How modest a sum.
Yes, I thought you'd say that.
But these are only provable men who have... cuckolded me, as it were.
Perhaps you would care to enlighten me as to the exact figure.
- I'm not an accountant. - Oh, Daisy!
Look, I confess I do not really want to drag us through the law courts.
I consider ours to have been a highly satisfactory marriage,
compared to other marriages around us.
I mean, we never quarrel. We enjoy the hunting field.
And besides all that, I really think in our own way...
...we're really quite fond of each other, what?
So, look. How about it, Daisy?
Stay away from London for a year or so, as Lady Charles demands,
and then I shan't have to divorce you at all.
Will Lady Charles return my letter if I do?
Yes, she will.
Then all things considered, I accept.
Oh, Daisy!
Ooh, you've made me so happy!
So, you accepted voluntary exile.
Banished from the court, I decided the court should come to me.
I settled myself in my Essex mansion
and ran a special train from London and back each day to collect my guests.
So, you remained the queen of the beau monde.
Yes.
They were great days.
And then, as if divine providence hadn't given me glitter and power enough,
before the year was out my father-in-law died.
So that my husband inherited the title of Earl of Warwick.
And I became the new Countess -
mistress of a great ancestral castle
and peeress of the realm.
As a house-warming that winter I arranged a bal poudré for 400 guests
exclusively chosen from Europe's nobility.
(Orchestra plays)
ANNOUNCER: Their Royal Highnesses Prince and Princess Henry.
DAIS Y: The costumes were entirely from the periods of Louis XV and Louis XVI.
I was Marie Antoinette,
in a sumptuous gown made for me by my favourite couturier Monsieur Worth.
I can't get the hang of this damn thing at all.
Never mind. Jolly evening, though.
(Chuckles)
- Good morning, my lady. - Oh.
- Newspapers, my lady. - Oh, yes.
It's been snowing again, my lady. And they say it's five foot deep.
"Lady Warwick's ball, the highlight of the season."
"Lady Warwick, queen of society."
Hm. Not bad.
Excellent, excellent.
What's this?
"Silly masquerade... wanton dissipation...
...a vulgar saturnalia of gaudy pride.
I deeply pity the poor rich Countess of Warwick."
Pity?
- Who wrote this? My God, I'll ruin him! - (Breakfast tray clatters)
- Dress me, Galpin! Dress me! - Are you going riding, my lady?
London. On the first train.
I left the castle without a word of explanation to my guests,
and was in Fleet Street by midday.
I found the office at the top of a staircase in a dingy, crumbling building.
I entered unannounced.
Are you the editor of The Clarion?
- I am. - I came about this.
The name's Robert Blatchford.
- I am the Countess of Warwick. - Do be seated.
That article is nothing but a calumny.
Not to me. It's the truth.
What? You call me a fiddling Nero.
You've taken it out of context.
What I say is...
"Thousands of pounds have been spent
on a silly masquerade of lavish luxury upon lavish luxury, glitter upon glitter,
while there are men, women and children huddling in their ragged hovels,
their meagre, shrunken flesh pierced by the winter's cruel sting,
without food, without clothes, without fire."
- I keep them alive. - "Who should I pity most?
The shuddering, shivering victims of starvation or the fiddling Nero?"
- Me? - Yes, you.
I pity you.
Forgive me, it's just that I see a brilliant truth which I must share.
- Indeed. - Tell me,
how much do you know about socialism, madam?
Nothing.
Then let me try to explain its economics.
There lies within all men and women a great fund of energy, intellect and creativity,
which produces the necessities and comforts of this life.
First for themselves and their friends, and their family.
And then the superfluidity, as it were, flows outward to the community.
Now this vast storehouse for human harvest can either be drained away and dissipated,
by catering for the ephemeral pleasures of the few, or it can be turned into goods.
I wouldn't let a single person starve on my estates. Not one. I'm not heartless.
And instead of this prodigal squandering of mankind's garnered treasury...
...let the abundance flow...
ever-germinating and fructifying so that the whole world
might inherit the horn of plenty.
The golden age anew.
DAIS Y: He talked on and on until the late afternoon.
And I was enraptured.
I left that dingy attic dazed and humbled.
And yet uplifted.
I'd become a convert to socialism.
This was the turning point in my life.
From henceforth socialism was to be my creed.
♪ The people's flag is deepest red
♪ It shrouded oft our martyr'd dead
The very next day I bought ten pounds of books on socialism
and engaged a professor of economics to school me in the villainies of capitalism.
I became such a wholehearted and recognised comrade
that the whole body of delegates to the Trades Union Congress
accepted my invitation to come to my castle.
♪ Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer
♪ We'll keep the red flag flying here
I sent my children to the local elementary school.
And addressed the first socialist meeting ever to be held in Warwick.
(Cheering and applause)
My friends, the day of freedom is coming.
All over the world growing disquiet is manifest.
Let the capitalists salve their consciences as they may,
with their religious maxims and philanthropic doles.
They cannot avoid the great coming of socialism.
It is a cause in which I believe and to which I dedicate the whole of my life!
(Cheering)
(Whistling)
Starvation and permanent under-feeding are crippling the future of this nation.
The other day, a clergyman said to me...
"How angelic, how spiritual and delicate are the faces of the children of the poor.
Surely God must be with them."
"That isn't God," I said to him. "That's rickets and anaemia."
♪ Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer
♪ We'll keep the red flag flying here
Next question, please.
MAN: Lady Warwick, with all respect,
why isn't the national anthem ever sung at your meetings?
Simple answer, young man.
It's because I can't sing.
(Cheering and applause)
They loved me. The people loved me.
I was loved.
My royal lover, however, was not quite so enthusiastic.
- Women for you are simply toys, aren't they? - Toys?
- Or slaves. - What's this, Daisy?
The male-female relationship is based on a class division
where persons are treated as less than persons.
You're not preaching more socialism at me, are you?
- Of course. - What, in bed?
Oh, Teddy, can't you see I want to enrich your life?
Give you a greater awareness. Greater depth and feeling, my darling.
Why? I always thought we did all right up to now.
After all, we've been together now for... for nine years.
Oh, Teddy, I want you to meet a great friend of mine.
- Only, you must promise you'll be nice to him. - Nice? But I'm always nice.
Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Who is he?
- A Mr Joseph Arch. - Joseph Arch?
Founder of the Trades Union Movement.
But, Daisy, is it wise? He hates anyone with a title.
- He wanted to see my head chopped off. - That was in his younger days.
He's an old man now. He lives in a little cottage near here.
A gentler and more sincere soul you've never known.
- Will you see him? - Well, as you wish, Daisy.
As you wish. You know I'm not a proud man.
And I love my people.
Now, then, shall we get down to the business of what the bed is made for?
- No, Teddy, no! Lie down! - (Both laugh)
- Ah! - Don't try to be the lover, silly boy.
- You know it makes you cough. - Ah, Daisy, you're so good.
- So understanding. - I'm 20 years younger.
- More agile. - You don't mind?
Not at all.
To each according to his need.
And from each according to his or her ability.
You have all the need.
I have all the ability.
It's something I believe in.
Thank you, Joseph.
Glad to have you under my humble roof, Edward lad,
because according to our Daisy here, you're a real old sport, ain't you.
(Chuckles)
Well, that's what she tells me and we're all men, ain't we?
Oh!
Mind, I ain't blaming you for the position you was born into.
No, I forgives you straight off.
I wouldn't have you assassinated. No, not me. Damned if I would.
Most kind.
The throne of England won't last long.
After all, we got you buggers on the run, ain't we?
Buggers?
That's why you're sitting here. You've got the wind up.
So you come a-creeping and fawning to the likes of me.
Fawning? What does he mean, fawning?
All I'm asking of you, Teddy lad, is that when the old lady dies,
you never dares put that crown on your napper.
No. You merely abdicates on the ground that you want to see England as a workers' republic.
What?
Well, that's what you're here for, ain't it?
That's what me and Daisy have planned for you.
Daisy? Daisy, what are you doing to me?
Her Majesty the Queen was clearly not amused that I should be so subverting the British throne.
She ordered to her presence her aide-de-camp.
Earl of Albemarle.
We command you, find him another woman.
- Ma'am. - A discreet one this time.
♪ Land of hope and glory...
So there you are, brother George. I'm ordered to find him another mistress.
- One that the Palace can control. - Hard cheese, old chap.
Good morning.
- George? - Yes, Arnold.
- I was thinking about Alice. - Alice?
You mean my wife? What are you asking of me?
The protection and security...
(Shouts) The protection and security of the British Empire.
- Damn it, man. I love my wife. - Then it's all the greater the sacrifice.
After all, we went to the same school, didn't we?
Yes, Arnold, you've got me there.
Glad you see it that way.
- May I ask you a question, Keppel Major? - Go ahead, Keppel Minor.
How come you selected Alice for the job?
Don't think I'm trying to be impertinent, but she's still quite a young filly, isn't she?
- 29 next birthday. - Mm. Daisy is 37. The Prince is 56.
Good morning. I think he'll appreciate the change of mount, shall we say?
- You're talking about my wife. - Courage, Minor, courage.
I don't need to remind you noblesse oblige, what?
Sorry. Stand corrected, Major.
In the meantime, someone must prepare Alice for her honoured role.
I want you to go to the Sandown races next Tuesday.
The Prince will be there. He's got a runner in the second race.
- Second race. - Now, will you prepare her, George,
or will you allow me to school her?
I'll prepare her. After all, I am her husband.
I knew you wouldn't let us down.
The team counts on you.
Thanks.
♪ God, who made thee mighty
♪ Make thee mightier yet
♪ Giddy up, giddy up, giddy up, giddy up
♪ Down the road, away went Polly
♪ With a step so jolly that I knew she'd win
♪ Down the road, the pace was killing
♪ But the mare was willing for a lightning spin
♪ All the rest were licked, and might as well ne'er been born
♪ Woa mare! Woa mare!
♪ You've earned your little bit of corn!
Alice, never would I have permitted this sacrifice were it not for a king.
King and Emperor he soon will be.
Ruler over an empire on which the sun never sets.
Alice, I look at it this way.
By God's grace the pair of us are privileged to call ourselves English.
And what's more, high-ranking English.
Very well, my dear wife. This is something we've been born, bred and trained for.
To render personal service to those very things we stand by and believe in.
Alice, I hold firm to my duty to God and the monarchy.
Do you?
Yes.
Fine show. Then do your best.
Give him the eye, wean him from all this socialist nonsense.
The future of mankind lies in your pretty little... nose.
God bless you, Alice.
♪ Fanfare
Your Royal Highness, may I present to you my brother,
the Honourable George Keppel.
Your servant, Your Royal Highness.
And may I also present my brother's wife, Alice.
I approve.
Will you permit me, George, to take Alice to the saddling enclosure?
- She's all yours, Your Royal Highness. - Thank you, gentlemen.
I find this most kind of you. Most thoughtful.
I will take good care of her. I promise.
Come, Alice.
Chin up, George. Set the teeth and smile.
Free?
Free.
♪ BEETHOVEN: Symphony No 9 in D minor (Ode To Joy)
Free!
But how did I use my freedom?
What lover should a socialist countess choose after having known the Prince?
I was still so attached to social power and the established order
that, like a fool, the next man I permitted to enter my bed was Lord Rosebery,
our Liberal Prime Minister.
A man of dreams, not to mention, fantasies.
Having tasted the highest of British politics,
it was only natural, I suppose, that I should turn to the most promising of the British Army.
I invited to my bed our present General - Sir Douglas Haig KCB.
The bed became a battleground.
Having known so many lovers from the main estates of our realm,
the aristocracy, the Parliament, the military,
it was only to be expected that I should try to discover what the Church could do.
I invited the dear Rector of Whitnash to stay at my castle
to help me go through my archives.
I should like to put on record there is nothing basically wrong with the Church of England.
Only one thing was lacking with any of them - love.
Heartfelt love.
And then I found it - the love of my life.
My dear darling Captain Laycock.
I'd never had a younger man before.
I'd arrived at that age when a woman needs a Romeo.
- You're up early. - Sorry.
Well, aren't we going to work up an appetite for breakfast?
Oh, Joe. My dear darling Joe.
Oh, Daisy, my sweetheart.
I must be good, I've a very busy day.
Oh, not more socialism.
You think I play at it, don't you?
I think socialism provides you with that grand reassurance
whereby you can cock a snook at the rest of society.
You can afford to be a socialist. We can't.
You're not right, you know.
Am I not?
No.
Joe, I want to tell you something.
Something I've discovered since I fell in love.
I wish I'd been a virgin for you.
No, don't dare smirk about it.
It's something we've always avoided, how many lovers I've had.
I lost count long ago.
They say I'm a nymphomaniac, but it's not true.
I know what I am. I'm a subversionist.
By heredity and environment, I'm a born revolutionary.
Daisy, you do dramatise yourself.
Don't laugh.
It's true.
Why does nobody take me seriously?
It's because they're frightened of my power, that's why. They're all the same.
There's only one Daisy in the whole of this world and you know it.
You know my isolation.
You know the love I have for every living creature and yet you scoff.
I need friends.
Oh, Daisy dear.
Joe. I want to put a logic to my life. Can't you see?
You're unique, my dearest.
Unique?
A remnant of old times. Something very fade at la fin du siecle.
I don't want it to be like that.
I want to belong.
You belong to me.
Never leave me, Joe.
Then it happened.
Queen Victoria died.
And with her passing my influence over men and society began to wane.
♪ God save the King...
Edward was called to the throne
and was immediately told by his advisers that I was a dangerous person...
as far as the security of the realm was concerned.
For me it was like the rejection of Falstaff- "I know you not, old thing. Fall to your prayers."
Shortly after His Majesty's succession, I received a visit from Lord Esher,
the power behind the throne.
What I have to say is a matter of some delicacy, Lady Warwick.
Say it.
I wish to speak of the close association you have had with a mutual friend.
- Teddy? - His Majesty, our gracious sovereign, yes.
- How is he? - Not too well.
He smokes too much. Does she look after him?
You will refer to our beloved lady, the Queen.
Not the Queen.
Oh! Come now, Esher, stop being so stuffy.
- Is he happy with Alice? - Mrs Keppel?
Mrs Keppel.
It would be difficult to find any other lady as friend to the King,
who would fulfil her role with such loyalty and discretion.
(Chuckles) I wouldn't have suited your book and that's certain.
I might have turned the United Kingdom into a socialist republic.
That we all realise, Lady Warwick.
AII?
I come here on behalf of the Cabinet, the Prime Minister, the Royal Family -
everyone who surrounds His Majesty.
Indeed.
What touches His Majesty touches the whole world.
Consequently, we request that your interference in great affairs should cease.
Great affairs? I don't understand.
I think you do.
We ask you to hand over to us everything His Majesty has ever written to you.
His letters, if you please, Lady Warwick.
You didn't give them to him?
I told you, I still have them.
All of them?
Yes.
Where?
In a safe in town.
Daisy, Esher talked about your interference in great affairs.
Was there something else in the letters?
I mean, something beyond their being just love letters.
You're no fool, are you, Frank?
Well?
I'd been doing a little work for a journalist colleague of yours.
Oh?
- Stead. - WT. The revolutionary.
In those days I played at socialism. Played at it.
I never realised it could lead to bloodshed.
I'm convinced now the revolution's coming.
- I hate war. - Oh, so do we all.
You say you worked for Stead. How?
Gathering information, let's say.
Stead wanted to know how Edward would act when he came to the throne.
I asked Edward questions and then passed on the replies.
What questions?
What did Edward think of his nephew? The Tsar Nicholas of Russia, for example.
To which Edward replied,
"He is a young man as weak as water, with no character whatsoever
and entirely under of the thumb of that corrupt intriguer his Chief Minister."
He said that?
I asked Edward what he thought of the Tsar's idea of disarmament,
to which Edward answered, in writing,
"Disarmament is the greatest rubbish and nonsense I've ever heard of.
To think of it is simply impossible."
I'm quoting exactly. I know the letters by heart.
Did he say anything about the Kaiser?
"I admire the strong discipline under which the Germans are ruled.
It would do Britain good to be governed by the Germans for a spell."
My God! And you still have the letters?
Yes.
- Daisy, I've been thinking, we... - I know what you're thinking.
What?
I've heard it said of you, Frank,
that it isn't what you've written that has made you your money, but what you haven't written.
Hm. Then we're both thinking along similar lines.
Why do you think I selected you to write my story? Why you?
There are plenty of better writers in England.
Why do you think I travelled to France to seek you out?
A man in hiding, a man afraid to set foot in his own country.
It's because you know the trick. You're an old hand at it.
Well, shall we continue?
Well, I don't see the point, not now.
You're slipping, Frank.
The prize of silence must be unsolicited.
Otherwise, the pair of us end up in prison.
Send the outline I'm giving you to the American publishers and that will be sufficient.
There must be an authentic threat. Don't you think?
You know, Daisy, you really are the most remarkable woman.
Well, then. Let's continue, shall we?
The concluding chapters will go something like this.
Up until now I'd been extraordinarily soft-hearted,
vain, extravagant,
generous and gullible.
Perhaps I always shall be.
But now things started to be taken away from me.
And I realised that for years I'd been looted.
My emotions, my wealth - and yes, my body -
had been objects for unscrupulous plunder.
One cold day in the middle of the hunting season...
...I was robbed of my Joseph.
The Marchioness of Downshire -
that vacant-faced little bitch - fell from her horse...
...and my darling Joseph, ever-gallant, went to her aid.
- It's my leg. - Where does it hurt? Is it broken?
Ooh, rub it. Rub it.
- Oh. - We must get a doctor.
Oh, that's better. Oh, that's better.
That's soothing. Mm, you have such gentle hands.
- I must get a doctor. - Must you?
She became pregnant and he married her.
How the world laughed.
Strangely enough, the only true friend I could turn to was my husband.
(Sobs) - Come along, old thing.
They're all sniggering at me. Everyone.
"A blind fool" they call me.
Well, they've been sniggering at me as "a blind fool" for years.
Life isn't too bad as a blind fool.
- It's a good posture, Daisy. - How dare he betray me!
How dare me! My God, I'll make his life a misery.
Something you've never done to me...
...made my life a misery.
You know, when I occasionally go to my club, I'm pointed out to the younger members.
"That's Lord Warwick. God, what's wrong with him?" they say.
"He looks sprightly and personable enough.
Doesn't he know about his wife?"
You know, it's surprising the compassion and tenderness one receives from one's own sex
being a famous cuckold.
They even let me win at billiards.
No, being a blind fool has its compensations.
So why not relish them, Daisy?
♪ Plaisir d'amour...
♪ Ne dure qu'un moment...
I wrote to Captain Laycock.
At first wildly... furiously.
His replies were curt and humiliating.
At last I wrote him a letter imploring him to return to me.
I would have him back on any terms.
I have refused ever to see her again.
Well, she was the kind of wealthy, older woman a young chap can easily get involved with.
Fooling around, sowing his wild oats. That sort of thing.
But when he settles down to the serious business of marriage and raising a family, well...
Thank you, my dear Joe.
(Song continues)
He rejected me, and the world knew it.
But my social humiliation had only just begun.
The next shock was when I drove into nearby Leamington Spa
to make purchases at Burgis & Colbourne.
- How many in a box? - Six, my lady.
Then deliver half a dozen boxes, child. They're merely gifts for my staff.
- I'm sorry, my lady, but... - But what, child?
I've been told not to serve you.
Certainly you shall serve me, my dear.
I don't expect the board of directors to flock round every time I enter the shop.
Serve me, you shall, child.
And you'll tell it to your children, no doubt, you once obliged the Countess of Warwick.
It's not that, my lady, it's...
It's what, child? Do speak up.
- It's... - May I be of assistance to Your Ladyship?
- This child tells me she cannot serve me. - That is so, Your Ladyship.
But why?
The company has decided that this shop has no longer any goods
which might be of interest to Your Ladyship.
- I don't understand. - Your accounts, my lady.
(Girls gasp) - What?
Insulted by a tradesman. I was as good as thrown out of the shop!
Ooh, bound to come. We're owing thousands.
Thousands upon thousands. The townsfolk are getting restive.
- What are we going to do for money? - I don't know. Heck of a position, isn't it?
I mean, here we are with a few million pounds hanging on our walls.
- Can't even pay the butcher. - Brookie, let's sell a Rubens, shall we?
- Or a Van Dyck. - I'm sorry, my dear.
It's the law of entail. We hold them in trust.
Brookie, nobody would miss a Van Dyck.
It's the selling of it! They'd want to know its provenance.
No, I'm sorry, my dear, we mustn't be tempted.
Then I repeat: What are we going to do for money?
Ah!
The official receiver arrived and took from me my horses, my car, my gold and silver plate,
all of my valuables.
He also rounded up 400 head of my beautiful red deer.
It was the end of an age.
King Edward died. The remains of my estates were all mortgaged.
My castle was let to an American family.
My jewels were all sold or confiscated.
I was forever being dragged to the bankruptcy court.
I owed I don't know how many thousands to creditors and money lenders.
♪ God save the King...
But Daisy doesn't despair so easily.
What is money, anyway? It's merely a token of wealth, which passes from hand to hand.
And usually by a process of exploitation.
I had money once.
They exploited my generosity.
And they have my money now.
Why not exploit them for a change?
So that I might have my money back again.
Why not?
So, how do we go about it?
King George will simply pay up. What else can he do?
- A word of advice. - Well?
As you suspect, I've been through this sort of operation before.
Your memoirs, I'm sorry to tell you, mean nothing.
- Nothing? - Less than nothing.
True or false, they're libellous.
I have his letters.
Ah, the letters are the all-important factor.
- I know that. - Good.
Then how do we approach His Majesty?
- I have it planned. - Hm, a direct approach and it's extortion.
His Majesty will approach us.
How?
Our intermediary will be Arthur du Cros.
Du Cros?
It's not a bad idea.
He's made his millions. All he wants now is his seat in the Lords.
- You'll be careful how you trigger him? - Nothing simpler.
I owe him L16,000.
I'll tell him I've been working hard writing my memoirs in order to pay him back.
- He'll do the rest. - (Chuckles)
You know, Daisy. You and I should have been in business before.
- Arthur, I'm owing you L16,000. - Well, really...
And since you are so importunate in your demands for repayment,
I've come to assure you that in a very little time all my debts will be settled.
Oh?
I have engaged Mr Frank Harris to write a book of my memoirs,
in which I shall disclose all the secrets of my life.
- Daisy! - It will make me a fortune.
- Do you realise what you're doing? - All of my intimacies. No-one will be spared.
- You mean His Majesty King Edward? - He's dead.
I shall publish his love letters. They'll not harm him being dead.
But what about the throne?
The throne of England is in for something of a shock.
I promise you.
As His Majesty's private secretary,
I am not unaware of the gravity of the information that you have placed before us.
Consequently, I have invited along His Majesty's personal solicitor, Mr Charles Russell.
How do you do?
- How do you do? - Do be seated.
It seems that you claim
that the Countess of Warwick made a special appointment with you last week
to inform you that she's about to publish the intimate written correspondence
she had with the late King.
That is so, Lord Stamfordham. I asked myself: Why should she inform you?
- I'm afraid I don't follow... - Why tell anyone, come to that?
She owes me money.
From what we gather, Lady Warwick owes many people money.
She needs money. And by hook or by crook, she intends to get money.
- Is that not so? - Er... I'm afraid I...
After some consultation with my learned friend,
I have come to the conclusion that the lady's prime purpose is not to publish the letters
but to extort money from the King by blackmail.
I can only ask you, Mr du Cros,
what part are you playing in this very wicked affair?
- I... - If the lady intended to publish these letters,
we surrounding the King would be the last people on earth she would wish to inform.
Yet you come here with the express purpose of telling us all about it.
- I am acting as a loyal subject. - She did not send you here?
- No. - Yet she owes you money.
And her only means of payment is by blackmail.
I swear to you if it's true I wouldn't touch a penny of anything she repaid me. Not a penny.
For my part I am prepared to believe him. What about you, Charles?
You see, Mr du Cros,
we think you have been acting as the unwitting pawn of a very cunning woman.
I ask you now...
Are you prepared to act as a loyal subject to our King and country?
Well, that's what I am. Lifelong.
We need the lady and this man Harris to commit themselves,
to reveal their true intentions before we proceed further.
Find out how much they want.
I did not say that.
It is impossible for the British throne even to consider such a thing as buying secrecy.
You must act as a private subject, doing as you see fit.
I understand, Lord Stamfordham.
L200,000.
Mm...
Preposterous!
Not when you consider the serial rights and the foreign translations.
You have a bargain, sir. It's what we call in the trade "a dripping roast".
- Nothing will be published and you know it. - We know no such thing.
I tell you casually in your office I'm writing my memoirs with Mr Harris,
next thing I know you form a combination with some secret friends,
chase after me to Paris and out of the blue ask me how much for my copyright and documents.
I didn't ask for this, Arthur.
You're running after me, I'm not running after you.
As far as I'm concerned, the book will be published, I'll make my money and that's that.
(Sighs)
When?
When what?
Have far have you gone in its publication?
I've already sent the drafts to the States.
They're absolutely wild with excitement.
So, it's just a question of exchanging contracts, that's all.
The deal's as good as done.
Promise me you'll do nothing till I've reported to my colleagues.
Give me ten days.
Oh, I don't know that we could delay matters that long.
Oh, please, Frank, we must try.
After all, Arthur is one of my friends.
Ten days.
Agreed.
And that's all I have to tell you, Lord Stamfordham.
The lady is demanding L200,000.
- From who? - From...
Not His Majesty, I hope?
- You didn't mention the Palace, did you? - Certainly not.
I told her that I and a few loyal friends were interested in buying up the rights.
I'm glad to hear it.
For if you'd mentioned His Majesty you might have become an accessory to extortion.
Me?
I'm afraid you've placed yourself in a very perilous position, sir.
- I acted in good faith. - May I remind you that it was you
who broached this whole subject with us in the first place.
And now you come reporting to us about the lady's demands for money.
You see, we still don't know why you are here.
You don't? But you told me I...
I told you, as I recall, that the British throne cannot be blackmailed.
The concept is impossible.
Consequently, nothing of what you say concerns us.
Not concern you?
Then, by God, I'm tying the noose to hang myself.
As a loyal British subject I try to serve the Royal Family
and at the end of it I'm the one who's threatened.
No! I wash my hands of it. Forget I've ever come to see you and good day!
Du Cros?
Well?
After investigation, we find you are a most loyal subject.
You have Mr du Cros's dossier there, haven't you?
- You keep a dossier on me? - Of course.
- But only in preparation for the Honours list. - Honours list?
Besides serving your country as a Member of Parliament,
you are the initiator of the pneumatic tyre industry,
Managing Director of the Dunlop Rubber Company
and founder of the Junior lmperial League.
We also notice you have confidence in our country's industry,
by investing several millions of pounds in our City banks.
We would not like to think that such a high level of patriotism might pass unnoticed.
Are you suggesting that I must pay Lady Warwick out of my own pocket?
We are asking that as a loyal subject you should do as you see fit.
Ah! I'm the one who's being blackmailed now.
Please mind your speech, Mr du Cros. The British throne cannot be blackmailed.
Neither can it blackmail. It is all unthinkable.
My God, you're a sharp pair and no mistake!
We are His Majesty's servants.
Now... if you don't mind.
I have several matters calling my attention.
Good day to you, Mr du Cros.
Good day, gentlemen!
Well done. If I may say so, sir?
- Lady Warwick, to what do I owe this... - Arthur!
Do you know what's happened? Do you?
Yes, I've just come from the House.
Russia and France have mobilised. Germany has done the same.
I'm not here to chat about the war scare.
I've been served with an injunction, against publishing the letters.
- I must produce them in court. - What?
What do you know about it?
Nothing.
It's a plot.
A conspiracy.
But my memoirs haven't finished yet.
There's a chapter to be written on their trying to silence me.
Tell that to your Buckingham Palace sycophants.
Daisy, this must stop.
Look, you want money to clear your debts.
Very well, I'll take on your debts.
- You? - That's my offer.
- Pay off my debts? - I didn't say that. No, no.
Take them upon myself, act as surety for them and pay off the interest.
But keep them alive.
As long as you never publish a word regarding the private lives of anybody,
then your financial worries are over.
If you do, then you'll have your debts back again.
What's wrong?
So you've learned how to blackmail too.
Well?
No.
If they want to take me to court, let them. Let's have it out in public.
I want the people to know how a royal mistress can be treated.
- You can't! - Can't I?
Daisy. I must tell you something of highest secrecy.
Churchill has mobilised the Navy. He's sent our ships to their war stations.
He has defied the Cabinet.
I'm telling you, Daisy, by the middle of next week, we shall be at war.
- What of it? - We must defend the honour of our country.
- Honour? - We shall be marching to war.
I'm a pacifist. And as for the honour of kings, don't make me choke with laughter.
Daisy!
Let them take me to court. I'll open the people's eyes for them.
March to their death for King and country! They must be mad.
I order that the documents contained within this sealed envelope
be handed to the defendant's solicitor Sir Henry Paget Cooke
and forthwith be destroyed by him.
I also order that all affidavits filed in this section be returned to their respective solicitors.
Done this day 18...
- Whatever you do, Daisy, tell nobody I'm here. - You should have stayed in France.
More sugar?
Impossible. They'd have had me arrested.
- Sympathy with the Germans? - That and other things.
Orgies?
My civilised approach to sex.
Orgies.
Look, could you hide me somewhere until I can get to the States?
There's a gamekeeper's cottage down by the brook.
Nobody will know if you're there.
I've no money, you know. I'm stony.
Don't worry, I'll do what I can to help. I owe it to you.
- Du Cros has freed me of debt. - Du Cros?
On the understanding there will be no memoirs.
- He'll be a baronet soon. - Hm.
What happened when they took you to court?
It was heard in chambers. The whole action has been expunged from records.
What?
I've been silenced.
Gagged.
Open my mouth and it's treason against the throne in a time of war.
The Tower of London for me.
They've done very well out of this war, haven't they?
- Yes. - Couldn't have come at a better time.
- Your memoirs. When I get to the States... - Forget it, Frank. Forget it.
But surely after all this you'll want your life published.
- I don't know. - You don't?
Would it have enough depth, do you think?
Everything I recall has so little depth.
People and events, that's all.
So little reality.
It's always the way with autobiographies, my dear.
When we say time heals all, do you know how?
Well?
Time robs us of a dimension.
Our pasts, for all of us, are two-dimensional.
Something like that.
We each carry our own history books in our own brains.
The pages are flat, they're frequently jumbled,
and the printing is inevitably distorted.
We scarcely ever recapture the pain or the joy.
But the outlines of people and events...
...are always with us.
♪ Daisy Bell
♪ Daisy, Daisy
♪ Give me your answer, do
♪ I'm half crazy all for the love of you
♪ It won't be a stylish marriage
♪ I can't afford a carriage
♪ But you'll look sweet upon the seat
♪ Of a bicycle built for two
♪ The Red Flag
♪ With heads uncovered swear we all
♪ To bear it onward till we fall
♪ Come dungeons dark or gallows grim
♪ This song shall be our parting hymn
♪ Then raise the scarlet standard high
♪ Within its shade we'll live or die
♪ Though cowards flinch and traitors sneer
♪ We'll keep the red flag flying here
An autobiography's always like that. How could it be otherwise?