The Amelia Project - Episode 68 - Marie Antoinette (1783)

Episode Date: July 21, 2023

"Liberté, égalité, fraternité" Think you know the story of Marie Antoinette, last queen of France before the French Revolution? In this episode we suggest things may not have played out quite the way the history books put it... We invite you to eavesdrop on a secret conversation conducted in 1783 on a beach on the west coast of France. Written by Oystein Ulsberg Brager with sound design by Alexander Danner and music by Fredrik Baden. Story and audio editing by Philip Thorne. Featuring Alan Burgon as The Interviewer, Hemi Yeroham as Kozlowski, Hayley Evenett as Marie Antoinette, Lindsay Sharman as Rosalie, Jordan Cobb and Erin King as the CIA agents, Benjamin Noble and Torgny G. Aanderaa as the MI5 agents, and Julia C. Thorne as Alvina. Production assistance by Maty Parzival and graphic design by Anders Pedersen. Thank you to Laurence Owen and Long Cat Media for engineering assistance! Check out their wonderful shows Madame Magenta, Magenta Presents, Mockery Manor, and The Ballad of Anne and Mary. This episode is dedicated to Deanna Berchenbriter. Content warning: this episode contains strong language. Full credits, transcripts and more info on the show on our website! Website: https://ameliapodcast.com  Transcripts: https://ameliapodcast.com/transcripts Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/ameliapodcast Donations: https://ameliapodcast.com/support Merch: https://www.teepublic.com/stores/the-amelia-project?ref_id=6148 Twitter: https://twitter.com/amelia_podcast Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/ameliapodcast/ Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/ameliapodcast Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Your teen requested a ride, but this time, not from you. It's through their Uber Teen account. It's an Uber account that allows your teen to request a ride under your supervision with live trip tracking and highly rated drivers. Add your teen to your Uber account today. Cold tapes. A gripping crime story that will chill you to the bone. You know, life on the base means, well, it's close to six months without light. That does things to people.

That study that he was doing to watch us and then set off us like mice around this special little experiment. How many people are on this base? Sixteen on this one. Someone amongst them is our killer. Experience Cold Tapes, the murder mystery podcast game. Start your investigation where you get your podcasts. The Amelia Project would not be possible without the generous support of our patrons. This episode is dedicated to super patron Diana Birchenbreiter, who we will make disappear in a puff of smoke during a magic show at the London Palladium, and who will reappear

as a waffle seller in the Belgian seaside town of Knock-le-Zoot. And now, on with the show. Rosalie. Yes, madam. What fate would you expect from someone with the name Marie Antoinette? Well, if I didn't know you were a royal, I'd say Marie Antoinette would do pretty well in life, madam. Sounds as sweet as plum jam, she does. And if you knew she was royal?

Doesn't matter what her name is, madam. I'd expect her life to be like a nag with the trots. Riches? Stinky, loud and unpredictable. Oh, shut up, Rosalie. They should be here by now. The winds might not have been favourable, madam. They're on shore winds.

You can't trust winds any more than you can trust a wasp in a pantaloon, madam. They promised they'd be here by this hour. Look, madam. Coming round the cliffs. Finally. Oh, bugger me with a baguette. Rosalie. But, madam, coming round the cliffs. Finally. Oh, bugger me with a baguette. Rosalie. But, madam, the flag, it's the skull and crossbones. Oh, we're in trouble now, madam.

More trouble than a bishop's son in a whorehouse, I reckon. Won't that be? Why, they're pirates, madam. No, no, why would a bishop's son be in trouble in a whorehouse? Isn't it obvious, madam? No, he might meet his dad! Right. The ship's approaching fast, madam.

It's a lot closer than I first thought. It looks so small on the horizon. We should flee now. No! Look, there! The figurehead. Oh, it's terrifying, madam. Looks like a burning bird.

Do you know what this means? I know it looks like the chicken I cooked last Christmas, madam. Burn that thing to a crisp, I did. I can still remember how it screamed. No, Rosalie! It means we're about to meet the Brotherhood of the Phoenix. And ahoy!

And down the hatches! Ugh, what an unattractive vessel. There's white paint peeling off the sides. What choice of colour for a pirate ship? Madam, that ship's so old, it's been around since Adam's first nappy. Rosalie, can you please ease up on the similes? Just for a minute. I'm just saying, madam. The hull is taken in water like a road gutter sees piss in the morning,

the yardarm's hanging off like a drop of snot, and the forecastle is as wide open as a potato picker's arse crack. Captain, are you alive? You think a rotten piece of wood will take down Captain Dead Eye? Captain, she might be in need of some repairs. Repairs won't do it, but she is dying. Not the small fancy. I won't let it happen. It is

too late, Captain. They're coming in very fast, Madam. I don't know how. The sails are more ragged than a homeless man's crotch hair. Captain, the cannons! They've come loose! Good riddance! They have busted anyway.

We are going to hit the shore hard. Just hold wind, Captain. I cannot control her. She has got her own will. Your Majesty, please take a few steps back. The ship is going to crash. Unless it falls apart first.

That scout in the crow's nest. He ought to come down from there with the speed of a guillotine. The mast's about to break. Shiver me timbers. There we go. Oh, dear. Cut. Cut.

We must move further up, madam. Come on. Quick. Come on. Of course, I didn't stand a chance. The last fell faster than a drunken cock. A drunken cock? Everyone knows a cock can't stand if it's had too much wine, madam.

Are you talking about a bird or a man? Thank you. The Amelia Project by Philip Thorne and Oostein Ulsbeck-Braga with music and sound direction by Frederik Barden and sound design by Alexander Danner. Episode 68. Marie Antoinette. 1783. Well, that's it, I guess. One drowned, the other caught in a crumbling ship. Were there really only two people aboard, madam? Surely a, the other caught in a crumbling ship.

Were there really only two people aboard, madam? Surely a crew of two cannot man a whole frigate. Nor repair it, apparently. Cool the horses, Rosalie. This wasn't the salvation I was hoping for. As you wish, madam. Look! Look, madam! That one's alive.

Good grief. Seawater. Those are my shoes. My apologies, ma'am. Lovely day for a swim. Oh, um, Queen Marie Antoinette, I suppose. The very same. Delighted, Your Highness.

Oh, and me, fair wench. Good day to you, sir. And you are? Sir Arthur Cutlass. The crew knows me as Cut. Which crew? Some of them may have deserted.

They may as well. Your ship disintegrated. Aye. Shame. Though it was probably time. The small fancy's been our home for the better part of a century. I was waiting for the Brotherhood of the Phoenix. You look like a pirate. Which are you?

Both, madam. At your service. You haven't by any chance happened to see the captain, have you? Dead as boiled beef, sir. Yeah, oh no, that sounds unlikely. No, no, no, he's an old salt, that one. He's probably just taken a choke. He was caught in the ship as it collapsed.

That man has taken a cannonball to the chest. He doesn't croak that easily. Captain! Captain Dedoise, show a leg! There he is, see? Hobbling about over there. Scupper that. Good afternoon, Your highness, milady. No, I'm not a lady.

What happened to you? I headed for the dungby, but the floor caved. I fell down through the poop deck all the way to the bilge. Then I think a scuttlebutt landed on me head. Well, at least you didn't end up at Davy Jones' locker. I'm telling you, it was a close call.

I know. Does it hurt more or less than when you were hit by the cannonball? More. But listen when I cut me eye out. You cut out your own eye? Eye. Oh, why?

To justify the eye patch. It's very becoming. Thank you. That's what I said, yeah. It really suits him, it does. But, you know, apparently we won't be needing it anymore. I think we just stop being pirates. Rest in peace, little fancy. Ye have served us well.

Would you have any use for an old eye patch? Your eye hole looks worse than the crevice of a leprous wench. Not to worry, mademoiselle. I am planning to insert a new eye as soon as I get the chance. So, you're both alive. What now? What now? Now, milady, we parley.

What? Rum. Oh. Bites like an underpaid whore, that does. Right. So so you see. Right, well, moving swiftly on. Your story, madam, please. From the beginning.

Well, my story. I suppose it already began when I was a child. What did? Well, I'm the youngest daughter of Empress Maria Theresa and Emperor Francis I of Austria. As far as I'm concerned, I think I was a typical youngest child. Oh? How's that? Well, I was a rebel.

They called me maladjusted and bossy, but I just... Oh, I just couldn't be arsed to listen to anyone. And especially not my tutors. Why not? Oh, yeah, you have to think like this. The world works like that. Well, as far as I could tell, it didn't. They're either lying or ignorant, so I decided not to care.

But I knew thoughts like that would not be appreciated in the palace. So I kept my mouth shut. Which basically meant never engaging in conversation. Then everyone thought my conversations were stilted and reckoned I was stupid. Hmm.

And then when I was 13, it was decided I was to marry Luddy. Luddy? King Louis XVI. Of course. But from the moment I entered the French court, I observed the same thing again. Lies and ignorance. Really?

Do tell, what are the members of the French court lying about? Or ignorant of? That France is a country in severe disrepair. Really? In fact, it's almost as bad as your ship. The great kingdom of France in disrepair? Yes. People are starving. Are they?

They don't have any bread. Then let them eat cake. But they don't have cake either. That's a travesty. Which is why I've tried to do what I've tried to do. And what's that? Covert political reform. Oh, my.

Although I have realised there's no two ways about it. France needs a revolution. Well, whip me haunch and call me a horse. This is... Surprising? To say the least. I mean, you're a royal. A revolution means you'd have to walk the plank. Exactly. I'd be executed. Wait, wait. You want us to fake your execution? Well, yes When is it happening? That's the problem, it's not happening any time soon Sorry, I'm a bit confused, madam You want us to save you from your execution by faking it, but you're not having an execution

Yes, that's the point, At the moment, no one is planning it. Right. You're going to have to take me through this a tad slower. Right. Listen, it's simple. I want change. Right. But it's going too slow. Sure. But your husband is the King of France, so... So what? Can you not just get your husband to implement the reforms you want?

My husband does not have a political bone in his entire body. He's not running the country. He's just a figurehead. The King's about as useful as a blind horse in a riot, he is. Exactly. And before you ask, no, a blind horse in a riot, he is. Exactly. And before you ask, no, I can't do it on my own either. I've not been able to carve out a role for myself in French politics. I've never been liked enough to be respected and never respected enough to be liked.

Why not? Because Luddy and I failed to produce an heir. But you have four children, do you not? I do, now. Well, then, in that case, you both do. No, just me. Do tell. Do you know how Luddy makes love?

Do I know? No, no. How would I, madam? I'll tell you. He introduces the member, then stays there without moving for about two minutes, then withdraws and bids goodnight. That does not sound like it will do the trick. You think? Does he not know what follows the insertion? I just think he's too lazy to exert himself.

That's a damn shame, madam. We all know a bitch in heat is like a blue-balled baron, don't we? If she doesn't get her way, that's like kicking a beehive in a bell tower, innit? And that's like stabbing a bull in the behind. Was that three or four similes? That's a lot even for her. So, for a time, you were deprived of the pleasures of the flesh? Not exactly.

No? I started indulging in the German vice. And what would the German vice be, Maddy? Lesbianism. Madder. I did not know that about you. I met this woman, Jeanne de Lamotte. She's the most cunning person I've ever come across. She has French aristocracy twisted around her little finger. She managed to sweet-talk

herself into a ball at Versailles. Then she went to powder her nose and sneaked into my boudoir. Jeanne is the best lover I've ever had. Well, to be fair, from the way you describe your husband, that wouldn't take much. I am sure it was a rewarding affair, but I am confident it did not produce any heirs. You're right. After eight years of celibacy, I had to take matters into my own hands. I had four kind friends help me out. And today, I've got four lovely children.

Securing the line of royal succession in France. I couldn't care less about royal succession. Oh, that's right. The queens are revolutionary. I had children because I wanted children. But also because it gave me a modicum of respect at the palace. As long as there were no heirs, too much attention was paid to me. With the children in place, those eyes were diverted, and I could finally do what I wanted. And what was that, exactly? French nature is bountiful, yet France is riddled by poverty. Why is that?

I don't know. Because the wealth is not distributed fairly. For my chambers in Versailles, I've been doing what I can to get this country back in shape. For everyone. Working men and women. The average person on the street. How? If you ask the so-called revolutionaries, they'll tell you I've wasted the French state budget.

On what? Luxuries. Dresses, jewellery, gambling even. They call me Madame Deficit. Oh, slanderous lies. Not at all. Sorry? Whatever they claim I've purchased, it's probably true.

And, to be fair, they don't even know the half of it. It has been my secret weapon. Buying. Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. It has been my secret weapon. Buying. Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying you're wasting the state budget in order to get the economy back on its feet? That doesn't make any sense. Not wasting. Investing.

In things for yourself. You're looking at it all wrong. When I order a dress for myself, what happens? Well, ye... I have to employ a dressmaker, don't I? I suppose. When my hairdresser, Leonard, who happens to be the most fabulous hairdresser in the world, wants to create a three-foot pouf for me with feathers, figurines and a model ship, what does he have to do?

Um... Use a hell of a lot of gauze and metal and paper and pomade and postages and powder. He'll even have to hire an assistant. Two even. Right. My panaches need feathers from the French ostrich farmers and my jewels need to be crafted by French silversmiths. Here's how I think about it. Each day, a silver lever should first be in the hands of a carpenter

as he's buying bread from a baker Then it's in the baker's hands as he's buying flour Then in the farmer's hands as he's paying taxes Then the next day, the queen orders an extension to the palace and the lever ends up in the hands of the carpenter again The lever does nobody any good lying in a king's chest It must circulate.

When in that circle does the lever end up in the hands of a crew of death-faking pirates? I've sponsored art and science. I've even encouraged the launch of a Montgolfier. Which is? A hot air balloon. Have you ever seen one of those?

I really do believe there is a future in travel by air. Oh, humans travelling by air. I'm sorry, madam, but that's the dumbest thing I've heard since Father Lawrence claimed only men have carnal desires. Ah, do not be so quick to judge, fair lady. If man can travel across oceans like a fish, why not across the sky like a bird? Blimey! Air travel! Imagine! Madame, your economical theories are fascinating, and your methods are as insidious as they are creative. Yet, looking at the purchases ye have made, ye do come off as rather

vain. Vain? If I was vain, would I refuse the world's largest diamond necklace? The queen said no to a necklace. Methinks the queen is balmy. What's, um, what's this necklace?

Only the most expensive necklace ever made. Value, two million livres. How? Sink me. Two million? My father-in-law, Louis XV, had it made for his mistress by the jewellers Bouma and Bassange. But he got cold feet, fearing the public backlash from giving a concubine such an expensive item. So he cancelled the order.

But the necklace had already been made. Boomer and Bassange had gone to great lengths to secure the largest and most perfect diamonds available. And now they were severely out of pocket. So a few years later, when Luddy became king, they tried to make Luddy buy the necklace for me. But I refused to accept it. Why? At the time, we needed battleships more than jewels.

And I told Luddy that in no uncertain terms. I was wearing a battleship replica on my head at the time to really drive home the point. I suppose the ship you've got in your head right now does give you a commanding presence. This thing? It's a mere clipper. This is a recreational poof. Anyhow, the point is I have always put the French people first, even if it doesn't seem that way. Fine. So you're not vain. And you've always put France first. Fine. So you're not vain. And you've always put France first. But here you are, complaining that no one is making you walk the plank, so your scheme clearly isn't working.

Things are going too slow. My spending alone isn't enough to secure freedom, equality and brotherhood. Liberté, égalité, fraternité. For a while now, there has been something brewing among the people. A desire for justice. The idea of a French republic. Yes. We have heard speak of it, even on the seven seas. The problem is, the whole thing seems to have stalled. The revolutionaries need a push.

Or rather, something to push against. They need an enemy. And you want to give them a royal adversary? Exactly. I want to use my public persona to pump the anti-royal sentiment. That should trigger the revolutionaries and secure the coming of a French republic. I want to fast-track the revolution. Hang on, hang on, hang on.

Fast-track the Revolution? You're telling me that Marie Antoinette in 1780-whatever Said Fast Track the Revolution? Of course not Marie Antoinette spoke French With a German phrase thrown in here and there for clarification I'm telling you the story in modern translation What? clarification. I'm telling you the story in modern translation. What?

Jackie has a problem with Marie Antoinette supposedly saying fast-tracked, right? But she doesn't seem to be bothered by the fact that this conman claims that he's 300 years old and has faked the death of Marie Antoinette dressed as a pirate.

years old and has faked the death of Marie Antoinette, dressed as a pirate. Oh, yeah, that. Come on, continue the story. Light me old and call me a cannon. Fast-tracking the revolution. Yes, but I'm out of ideas. It seems

people are so used to despising royalty. No matter how much I spend, nothing will push them over the edge. I need help. But why send for us? You know what we do. Oh, we know. You're like the mystical force that makes maggots' eggs out of cow dung. Sorry?

The Brotherhood of the Phoenix, they whisper. What they do is like when you have a fight with your sister-in-law and you get your face pushed into a boiling pot of coq au vin and you come out with your whole face burned off. But it's actually for the better, because your skin looks so much nicer with the pockmarks burned off. Right. Yeah, as your servant points out in her highly personal way,

we help change people's appearance. Or rather, their identity. We don't normally engage in revolutions. Why not? I'm asking you to kill France and make it come back with a new identity. Hmm. That is an intriguing way to look at it. So, our first job will be to make people hate you even more? Yes. Well, to do that, we'd need to create the scandal of the century Go on

Hmm, let me think Hmm, man of war The great Aunt Mabel Bring a spring upon her cable Pire it as a wooden leg Unscrew the top and drink the dregs What? What?

Oh, this is good What is What? Oh, this is good. What is it? This is excellent. Well, tell us. This is sure to see France bilged on her anchor. Madame Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, are you ready to be part of the most Machiavellian scheme France has ever seen?

I called you here, didn't I? Aye, post-haste from the Caribbean. Right, here's me plan. That necklace you refused, well, we're going to use it. What, I suddenly order another necklace and you think that tips the scales of public opinion? No, no, no. We're going to run a rig that's a lot more insidious than that, believe you me. Oh, we will place you in a position where, no matter how you interpret the evidence, you come out looking shifty as hell. Shifty as hell? That's a lazy simile, that. How about shifty as a hooker's knickers? Oh, yes, I agree. That is better. Yes. Right, here's what we do.

Let's say you decide you want the necklace after all, but considering your public image, you decide to purchase it in secret. But then the public doesn't know. Don't worry, they'll find out. To get hold of the necklace, you'll use a series of intermediaries. Oh, we need an accomplice. Oh, how about your lover? What was her name?

Jeanne de Lamotte. Yes. So what does Jeanne need to do? Wait, wait, wait. Our gallery of characters is not complete. Does the Queen have an enemy? An enemy? Only most Frenchmen, all of French aristocracy. My mother, my father and my husband.

Well, we need someone whose reputation you don't mind tarnishing. Well, I really do despise the Cardinal de Rohan. Ooh, a cardinal. Promising. Who is this landlubber? He is a power-hungry sleaze trying to get on my good side in an attempt to weasel himself into Luddy's

ministry. Sounds like the kind of bilge rat we're looking for. He always slaps my arse when he passes me in the halls at Versailles. But he doesn't like it when I do it back. He's a contemptible man. And an ambitious idiot. Perfect.

Jeanne shall befriend this Cardinal de Rohan and reveal to him that you find yourself utterly enamoured with him. What? Jeanne is a good liar, but I don't know if even she could sell that. All right, well, then we'll let him meet ye. A secret rendezvous where you tell him in person how you feel. Oh, no, no, no. He'll hear the disdain in my voice. Hmm, all right.

Oh, well, maybe it is better anyway if it isn't the Queen herself. Then ye can be somewhere else and have an alibi. What do you mean? Captain Deadeye, do you still know how to get a hold of Nicole de Guay de Livia? Any pirate who has cracked Jenny's teacup knows where to find Nicole. Who is Nicole de Guay de Liva?

Miss de Liva is a Parisian lady of the night who looks so much like the Queen, she can make a living of it. How do you know this trumpet? I know how he knows. I was the one who gave her your face, madam. You what? Nicole, posing as the Queen, will promise to Rohan that all past disagreements are forgotten and that you're now looking forward. To what?

A secret affair. Oh! Nicole will suggest that the most romantic thing the Cardinal could do for you is help you acquire the infamous diamond necklace. Now, it is essential that the payments cannot be traced back to the Crown, which is why you're asking the Cardinal if he can cover the down payments. You promised to pay him back later with interest, if you know what I mean.

Oh, what? No, no, no, don't worry, don't worry. It will never come to that. Dirohan will cover the first down payment, acquire the necklace and deliver it to me, posing as a valet. Time comes for the second down payment and the third, but so far de Rohan has not received a single livre from ye.

He is well off being a cardinal, but at some point he will have no more money to front. He'll be as broke as a carouser. But if de Rohan is out of money, Bouma and Bassange don't get paid. No, and de Rohan will send them directly to you. Then what do I say? Deny it all, of course. You act shocked and upset. Because I haven't ordered the necklace. Because you haven't ordered the necklace.

It's all been a ploy by the naughty conwoman Jeanne de Lamotte and her accomplice Cardinal de Rohan. Okay, but we want people to hate me. Avast, we're getting there. I presume you can make sure Cardinal de Rohan gets arrested. Of course. Seeing him arrested at Versailles would be very gratifying. Seeing him arrested at Versailles would be very gratifying. Oh, I'll ask the guards to intercept him in the Hall of Mirrors as he's on his way to officiate mass in the Palace Chapel. Good.

When the Cardinal gets arrested, he will insist he is innocent. But it is his word against the Queen's, right? And I guess King Luddy will back you up. He will. He'll be livid. But now you've just successfully blamed someone else. How does this trigger the revolution? We're almost there.

This plan is too convoluted. Can't I just run around naked in the streets or something? Well, people will think you're crazy. That doesn't help us. So far I'm not convinced. We've just come to the part I'm most excited by. The trial. Nothing can be proven,

everyone accusing everyone. And that's good? Good. The Queen will accuse the Cardinal. The Cardinal will accuse Jean de la Motte. Jean de la Motte will accuse the Queen. Barbara Besson will accuse anyone and everyone. The Cardinal will swear he met you in person. You'll swear you did no such thing. And a prostitute sharing your likeness will be called to testify. I mean, it'll be a sensational maelstrom of confusion. Sure, it'll be a riot. But how do we ensure that I will be found guilty? No matter.

Of course it matters. De Rohan may be found guilty or acquitted. No matter. Ye may be found guilty or acquitted. No matter. Of course it matters. De Rohan may be found guilty or acquitted. No matter. Ye may be found guilty or acquitted. No matter. I will be acquitted. All the judges are ours. So be it.

But... The only thing that matters is public opinion. When reading about this trial in the papers, what will people think? I don't know. They will think you orchestrated the whole thing. You wanted another shiny trinket and you've used Jandala Mott and the Cardinal to get it. Your plan failed, so you let D. Rohan take the blame. Meaning you're no longer just Madame Deficit, but Madame Deceit.

Woohoo, neat! After a scandalous affair like that, only the worst of words will be used about Queen Marie Antoinette. The Queen will be remembered as a right old cunt. Hooray! Wait, what about Jeanne? Whatever happens, she'll be found guilty. She'll be sent to Saint-Petrière, the women's prison. We won't let anything happen to Jeanne

Both since you care about her And because she still has an important part to play She does? Aye After a short while, we will help her escape Salpêtrière We shall sail Jeanne to London in the small fancy Ahem Ahem

What are you... Oh, blistering barnacles! I forgot our ship fell apart. We will arrange other transport across the Channel. Then Jeanne will take refuge in London. How can she help us from there? Safely in London, Jeanne will publish her memoirs justificatif, in which, once again,

she libels Queen Marie Antoinette. If the revolution hasn't happened already, she will surely fan the revolutionary flames with such a book. It wouldn't hurt if she wrote about our real relationship, too. Brilliant! Always throw in some debauchery for extra effect. Meanwhile, me and Captain Deadeye will publish salacious and degrading pamphlets defaming ye and discrediting the Bourbon monarchy. Ye'll become an enemy of the French people. And once royalty is an enemy, well, there's only one solution.

A revolution. Mutiny. Beginning now, Captain Deadeye and I will stay in Paris and slowly infiltrate the revolutionaries. When the day comes, we will pose as executioners and build you a fake guillotine. We don't want you cleaved to the brisket. Are you convinced yet? I am. Good. Let's heave-ho.

Do you know what the funniest thing about all this is? No, what? The necklace. It isn't even pretty. It's really, really tacky. Ah, that reminds me. The bounty. Yes. How shall you be paid? Well, this will be quite the expensive affair. It will take years. We will have to take up residence in Paris,

infiltrate the revolutionaries, run an illegal printing press, pay Jeanne. Do you have something in mind? How about two million livres? Can it be paid in the form of, say, a diamond necklace? You know what? I think it can. Sounds like a cheap price for freedom, equality and brotherhood.

Oh, we also need a place to live. Can you help us find a house in Paris? There is a small house in the shadow of Montmartre Abbey. I used it as a meeting place for my tryst with Jeanne. You may have it and make it your home. Perfect. What shall we pose as this time, Captain? I have been working on an idea for when piracy came to an end.

What is it? A pair of travelling magicians. Ooh, that sounds fun. Two mages. And we can have revolutionary identities on the side. Les Deux Magots? Yes. Long before it was a café, there was a tiny shop here in Paris

where two mages, Les Deux Magots, sold fireworks and mechanical birds and powdered dragon bones for rheumatism. So that's why you're so fond of that place. Yes, fun memories, Alvina. Fun memories. Oh, I miss the moustache. You know, it reached all the way down to my collarbone. Yes, I used to stroke it thoughtfully. I can just picture that.

So what about Maria Twinet? What happened to her in the end? Well. What do you want for your new life? Well, for one, I'm more than happy to be rid of Luddy. The revolution will be the end of him, won't it? Revolutionaries give no quarter. Unless we fake his death too.

Not worth it, I think. Well, dead men tell no quarter. Unless we fake his death too. Not worth it, I think. Well, dead men tell no tales. As for myself, I want to try living with someone I actually like. I'd like to start a new life with Jeanne. After Jeanne has published her memoir justificatif in London, we shall fake her death too. Then we can set

the two of you up as sheep farmers in the Carpathian Mountains. That sounds... hard. But lovely. Me hearties, we have a plan. Do you have anything to toast with?

Our wine cellar just... well, it sank. And your servant has finished the bottle of rum and is three sheets to the wind. Sorry about that. I have a bottle of Verve Clicquot in the carriage. Rosalie, will you? As swiftly as a sparrow, madam. Verve Clicquot?

What is that? Oh, it's just a sparkling wine. Sparkling wine? I've never heard of that. The winery was only founded ten years ago. But it is one of the best sparkling wines you can get. Well, I'll try anything once. What's wrong? It's just...

ironic. You and me, we are the true masterminds of the French Revolution. Yet I will be seen as the dumbbell who caused it. I'm back! Oh, thank you, Rosalie. To what shall we drink? To clever dumbbells. To clever dumbbells.

To clever dumbbells. To clever dumbbells and their servants. Oh, shut up, Rosalie. There we are. Cheers. Cheers. Cheers. Bombs up.

Oh, my Lord. This is wonderful. That is amazing. Told you it was good. You got another bottle? Stay tuned for the epilogue, but first, the credits. This episode was dedicated to Diana Birchenbreiter and featured Hayley Evanett as Marie Antoinette, Lindsay Sharman as Rosalie Allen-Bergen as the interviewer, Hemi Yeroham, as Kozlowski Jordan Cobb,

as Jackie Williams, Aaron King, as Mia Fox, Benjamin Noble, as Haynes, Torgny G. Ondero, as Cole, and Julia C. Thorne,

as Alvina. The episode was written by Einstein Ulzburg Braga, with story and audio editing by Philip Thorne, sound design by Alexander Danner, music by Frederick Barden, direction by Philip Thorne, sound design by Alexander Danner, music by Frederik Barden, direction by Philip Thorne and Ostein Braga,

production assistance by Marti Patzival, and graphic design by Anders Pedersen. A big thank you to Lawrence Owen and Long Cat Media for recording assistance. This show is made possible by you, our listeners. If the show brings you joy and you would like to support us with $2, $5 or more per episode, like leaving a tip when we release new content, we would be super grateful.

Go to ameliapodcast.com, click on support the show and choose the level of support that makes sense to you. In return, you can listen to the show without ads and access bonus content. Thank you to every single one of you who is already a patron

and a shout out to our super patrons. That's Celeste Joes, Heat312, Rodney Dulleghi, Jemfidic, Orban, Asant, Amelie and Alison, Stephanie Weitenhiller, Raphael Eduardo, Vifas Verrastaki, Ashlyn Brand, Alison Thro, Patricia Bornwagner, Bryce Godmer,

Cliff Heisinger, Michael West, Tom Putnam, Diana Birchenbreiter, Tim McMacken, Blythe Varney, You are making a substantial difference to our lives and allowing this show to continue. More info on ameliapodcast.com. And now, the epilogue. We are missing one important detail. Hmm? What is that? A quote.

What do you mean? What kind of quote? For God so loved the world, he gave his only son. That's the Bible, isn't it? John 3.16. To be or not to be. Emlet by that Shakespeare guy. But the earth does move. Oh, oh, is that the Italian

fella said the earth goes round the sun? Galileo. It is the epitaph on his gravestone. A person muave. Ye would know. Ye carved it. What's your point, Captain? Even the maid knows these quotes. Pamphlets and trials are all well and good,

but imagine a sentence you could repeat without even mentioning the Queen's name. Yet everyone immediately knows who you're talking about. You mean, a sentence to hate me by? To muck ye by, madame. Hmm. Hmm. Oh, how about let them eat cake?

What? Let them eat cake. That's perfect. Hold on. But I said that. Aye. And it was a perfect display of arrogance and ignorance. But may I have it? Yes, of course. It's yours to have, madam.

Let them eat cake. Oh, that's good. Yeah, I know. I came up with it. And that is how we helped Marie Antoinette fake her death. Mm-hmm. Why did her servant have a cockney accent? It is just a translation.

Oh, everything's turning out all right, isn't it? It's as lovely as a drunk cock in the morning, this is. I thought you said a drunk cock couldn't stand up. Exactly. Then it won't cock-a-doodle you awake in the wee hours of the morning, will it? I'm still not sure if you're talking about a bird or a...