Original subtitles

Almighty Father, giver of all good gifts...

who of Thy divine providence hath provided Thy unworthy servants...

with all things necessary to their bodily sustenance,

grant, we beseech Thee, spiritual grace...

that we may enjoy in quietness of spirit the proofs of Thy bounty...

and render unto Thee most humble and hearty thanks. Amen.

Amen.

No, my dear Miss Elizabeth. You know, we doctors can't do everything.

Yes.

Well, my dear Dr. Chambers, you've done a great deal.

Yes, but now it's your turn.

You've got to help. You've got to want to get well.

Oh, if I could, I'd be downstairs now having dinner with pa and the others.

But if you shut a person up in one room for years on end...

you can't very well expect to find her bursting with life and vigour.

Tell me, Miss Elizabeth,

have you ventured on your feet at all lately?

No, hardly at all.

Sometimes when I'm feeling venturesome, my maid supports me across the room.

You know, the fact is...

a change from these surroundings would do you a world of good.

- Italy is the place for you. - Italy...

- Oh, no, doctor. This is my Italy. - Rubbish! That's just it.

You don't want to go anywhere, you don't want to see anybody.

Confound it, my girl. Isn't there something you want to do?

Yes, and I'm doing it. I'm writing poetry.

And there are those who think it isn't such bad poetry.

Mr. Robert Browning has sent me several kind letters of approval.

- Browning? Never heard of him. - Oh, you will, some day.

I daresay. Well, I'm glad at least there is something you care about.

- Even if it's only poetry? - Yes! Only... don't overtax yourself.

All right.

One small verse to be written an hour after each meal with a little water.

Oh, doctor, that reminds me. Sit down a minute.

Do you remember Papa suggesting to you

that a certain kind of beer called Porter might do me good?

Yes, and an excellent suggestion, too.

Oh, forgive me. But it was nothing of the kind.

I've had to drink it twice a day

and in consequence my life has become one long misery.

- Bless my soul! - I'm not exaggerating. One long misery!

- You poor little lady. - It's no use my appealing to Papa.

But if you, dear dear Dr. Chambers,

were to suggest to him that something else might be equally beneficial...

What would you say to a couple of glasses of hot milk as a substitute?

I hate milk.

But I'll drink it all day long if you'll only rescue me from Porter.

Come in.

Beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth. May I take the tray now?

Yes, Wilson.

- Well, goodbye, Miss Elizabeth. - Goodbye, doctor. And you won't forget?

- Eh? - P-O-R-T-E-R.

- I'll speak to him about it now. - Oh, thank you, doctor. Thank you.

- Good night, dear. Good night, old man. - Good night, doctor.

- Quick, Wilson. Away with it! - What, miss?

The Porter! Take it away, quick, and never mention the word to me again.

Very good, miss.

Since you haven't had your Porter -

I told you never to mention the word to me again.

Now, take it away, please. Please!

Very good, Miss Ba.

- Hello, dear. May we come in? - Yes, come in.

- How was dinner? Was Papa...? - He was, and dinner was awful.

- Henrietta! - Awful, awful, awful.

Oh, Ba, dear, I do hope for all our sakes

that Dr. Chambers' report of you isn't too good.

- It won't be. - Oh, darling.

Forgive me, dearest. You know I didn't mean it, don't you?

But any good news seems to depress him so.

It isn't Papa's fault, I suppose. In his way, he loves us all.

In his way!

8 o'clock! Oh!

Captain Cook? Is he nice?

He seems quite nice. I can't tell, of course. He isn't allowed to call.

- Do you think it's serious? - Oh, Ba, I hope not.

Do you remember when young Mr. Palfrey wanted to marry her two years ago?

Those dreadful scenes with Papa.

He's there.

Oh, Ba, I wish you could see him. He's so tall, and so soldierly.

I can imagine.

It's so mean. He'll wait there for hours,

just hoping that I can slip out for a moment.

And so I will!

- But Henrietta... Papa? - Oh, I know.

Oh, it's dreadfully imprudent, dear. And not very ladylike.

I don't care. I don't care! I -

Hello, Ba, dear. I've just come to see how you are, and to wish you good night.

Come in. Come in, Henry.

Well, Ba, dear, how are you?

Better, thank you.

- How's our dear Ba tonight? - Alfred.

How are you, Ba?

I do think you're looking a little better.

- Do you think so? - What do you say, Charles?

What?

Looking better, don't you know. More herself, what?

- Well, Septimus. - How's Ba tonight?

The doctor's just been, hasn't he? I'm afraid he wasn't too pleased with you.

No?

Not looking quite so well, is she, Albert?

On the contrary, I think she's looking considerably better.

So does Charles. Don't you, Charles?

What?

- Come in, George. - Ba, dear.

How's the world's greatest poetess?

The world's greatest poetess is much better, thank you.

Hello, Flush, old son.

Come in.

A note for Mr. George.

- Oh... - I wonder what's in the note.

- Well, it seems to be - - A note?

- From the master, sir. - Oh, thank you.

When Papa starts sending out notes from his study...

look out for squalls! Read it to us!

Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! This is undoubtedly a royal decree.

Given at our study at 50 Wimpole Street, on this

the 19th day of November, 1845. God save Papa!

- Oh! - What is it, George?

You'll all be interested to learn...

that Papa is going to Plymouth on business next week, and...

And what? Go on!

and that he's not expected to return for at least a fortnight.

How wonderful, how marvellous. George, do you Polk?

- Don't be childish. - Well, I Polk.

Ha ha ha, you and me, little brown jug, don't I love thee?

Ha ha ha, he he he, little brown jug, don't I love thee?

My wife and I live all alone in a little brown house we call our own

She loves gin and I love rum, Tell you what it is, don't we have fun?

Ha ha ha, you and me little brown jug, don't I love thee?

Ha ha ha, you and me little brown jug don't I love thee?

Ha ha ha -

Good evening, Papa.

I am most displeased.

I think I have told you, not once but several times,

that, in your sister's very precarious state of health, it is inadvisable

for more than three of you to be in her room at the same time.

You, all of you, know that she must avoid every kind of excitement...

and yet I find you romping around her like a lot of disorderly children.

I am gravely displeased.

I am not aware that I have said anything amusing, Henrietta.

I beg your pardon, Papa.

And may I ask what you were doing as I came into the room?

I... showing Ba to Polk.

To Polk?

How to... How... dance the... the Polka.

I see.

Well, Ba, I think I'll say good night and -

I should be grateful if you would allow me to finish speaking.

Sorry, sir. I thought you had done.

Are you being insolent, sir?

- No, indeed, sir. I assure you - - Very well.

- Now - - Papa...

I like nothing better than a little noise occasionally.

Perhaps you'll forgive my saying, Elizabeth,

but you're not the best judge of what is good or bad for you.

And that brings me to what I came here to speak to you about.

Dr. Chambers has just told me...

that you have persuaded him to allow you to discontinue drinking Porter.

It needed very little persuasion, Papa.

I said I detested Porter, and he agreed at once that I should take milk instead.

I questioned him closely as to the comparative

strength-giving values of milk and Porter...

and he was forced to admit that Porter came decidedly first.

That may be, but when you dislike a thing to loathing, well...

I don't see how it can do you any good.

Your likes and dislikes are quite beside the point in a case like this.

Yes, but when Dr. Chambers himself said...

I have told you what Dr. Chambers said.

- Yes, but, Papa - - Did you drink your Porter at dinner?

No.

Then I hope you'll will do so before you go to bed.

No, Papa. That's really asking too much.

I can't drink the horrible stuff in cold blood.

Of course I have no means of coercing you...

but I intend to give your better nature every chance of asserting itself.

A tankard of Porter will be left at your bedside and I hope that by tomorrow...

you will be able to tell me that you have obeyed your father.

I'm sorry, Papa, but I shan't drink it.

Henrietta, go and fetch a tankard of Porter.

No.

I beg your pardon?

It's sheer cruelty. You know how Ba hates the stuff.

You're just torturing her because you like torturing.

I have told you to fetch a tankard of Porter.

- I won't do it. - Must I ask you a third time?

- Obey me this instant! - Papa!

Go and fetch it, Henrietta. Go at once. I can't stand this.

- Oh, no, Ba... - Please, please.

You had all better say good night to your sister.

- Good night, darling. - Good night, Ba, dear.

Good night, Ba.

- Good night, darling. - Good night, Ba.

Give it to me, please.

- No. You may go. - Good night, Ba, darling.

You may go!

- Elizabeth. - Yes.

Why do you look at me like that, child? Are you frightened?

No.

You're trembling. Why?

- I don't know. - You're not frightened of me?

No, no.

Don't say it. I couldn't bear it.

You're everything in the world to me. You know that.

Without you, I should be quite alone. You know that too.

And if you love me you can't be afraid of me, for love casts out fear.

You love me, my darling? You love your father?

Yes.

And you will prove your love by doing as I wish.

I don't understand. I was going to drink -

Yes, out of fear, not love.

Listen to me, my dear. I shall never in any way reproach you.

You shall never know by deed or word or hint of mine...

how much you have grieved and wounded your father

by refusing to do the little thing he asked.

Oh, Papa. Let us get this over, and forget it.

I can't forgive myself for having made the whole house

miserable over a tankard of Porter.

You're acting of your own free will and not -?

Yes, Papa, yes.

You're not feeling any worse tonight, my darling?

- No, Papa. - Just tired?

- Yes, just tired. - I'd better leave you now.

Shall I say a little prayer with you before I go?

Please, Papa.

Almighty and merciful God,

in Thine inscrutable wisdom,

Thou hast seen fit to lay upon Thy daughter Elizabeth...

grievous and heavy afflictions.

For many years she hath languished in sickness...

and for many years,

unless, in Thy mercy, Thou take her to Thyself, she may languish on.

Give her to bear her sufferings in patience.

Give her to fix her heart and soul on Thee.

And on that heavenly eternity

which may at any moment open out before her.

Amen.

Amen.

Good night, my child.

Good night, Papa.

Are you ready for your bed now, Miss Ba?

Oh, what a pity.

These flowers are dead, just since this morning.

I thought they'd live longer.

Nothing lives in this room.

What was that, miss?

Oh, Wilson, I'm so tired. Tired, tired.

- Will it never end? - End, miss?

This long, long, grey death in life.

Oh, Miss Ba, you shouldn't say such things.

No, I suppose I shouldn't.

Is it a fine night out, Wilson?

Yes, Miss. It's cleared up nicely after the rain.

And there's such a lovely moon.

Moon? Do you think I could see it from here?

Mm, I don't know, I'm sure.

Draw back the curtains.

There you are. The moon is right above the chimleys.

Yes.

Please put out the lamps, Wilson, and leave me for a little while.

- I don't want to go to bed quite yet. - Very well, Miss Ba.

Be careful.

Don't talk to me.

The woman opposite is watching.

Listen. But don't look at me.

It was kind of you to come so far.

And in the snow.

I wish I could ask you in, but I daren't.

Aren't you freezing? Don't answer me!

You're so tall.

I wish I could see you in full uniform. Could I?

Don't tell me!

I daren't stay any longer. It looks so odd.

And in this weather.

I'll come again tomorrow. You'll wait for me, won't you?

Don't tell me.

- Goodbye. Goodbye. - Miss Barrett.

- Hush! - But I say, Miss Barrett...

If the thing were only on the proper footing,

if you'd permit me to call on your father...

Oh, you mustn't think of it. Why, you'd be ordered out of the house.

But if I made it quite clear,

intentions perfectly honourable, and all that.

But that would make it worse. That would be simply fatal, don't you see?

I can't say that I do.

Papa would never permit any of us to marry.

A marriage in the family?

He just almost goes insanely angry if you talk of it.

Yes, but I mean...

Oh, I say!

I proposed... and I thought it would be so difficult.

Oh, yes, Wilson, I'm quite ready for my lunch.

You've had your lunch, Miss Ba.

Oh! Yes, of course. I enjoyed it very much.

Hadn't you better keep covered up?

Thank you.

These cold days are are that treacherous.

No, it's quite beyond me. I give it up.

Beg pardon?

Wilson, have you noticed anything strange in me today?

Strange, miss?

Yes, strange. I mean stupid, thickheaded, idiotic.

- Good gracious, no, miss. - Very well.

But now listen carefully, and see what you can make of this.

And after, for pastime, If June be refulgent

With flowers in completeness, All petals, no prickles,

Delicious as trickles Of wine poured at mass-time,

And choose One indulgent To redness and sweetness:

Or if, with experience of man and of spider,

June use my June-lightning, the strong insect-ridder,

To stop the fresh film-work... why, June will consider.

I call that just lovely, Miss Ba.

Yes, but do you know what it means?

Oh, no, miss.

Does it convey anything at all to your mind?

- Oh, no, Miss Ba. - Well, thank heaven for that.

But then, real poetry never does, miss.

Least ways not real poetry like what you make.

Oh, but I didn't write that. It's by Mr. Browning.

Oh, he must be a clever gentleman.

Oh, Ba. Cousin Bella is here.

May she come in?

Yes, dear.

Oh. And Ba, just think. She's engaged. She's going to be married.

Cousin Elizabeth!

- Dear, dear cousin. - Bella, dear.

- What's this I hear, engaged? - Yes.

I just had to run right over and tell you.

Well, congratulations, dear.

Isn't it too thrilling?

Harry couldn't come, but I'll bring him next time.

- May I? Oh, you'll love Harry. - I'm sure we shall. Harry who?

Harry Bevan. Oh, Henrietta, the very person!

I want want you to be one of my bridesmaids.

- Bridesmaid? - Yes, you simply must.

- Cousin Bella's engaged. - She's going to be married.

And I want you to be a bridesmaid.

Oh, yes, at your wedding. Thank you.

It's going to be a great big wedding. Twelve bridesmaids.

You must help me to pick out the dresses.

And I'm going to wear mother's wedding veil.

Don't you just love weddings, Henrietta?

Yes, I love weddings.

And we're going to Paris on the honeymoon.

And then to Rome.

And then we're going to take the dearest, sweetest little house.

It'll be just too thrilling for words.

And I'll be so happy to have you for a bridesmaid.

Thank you, Bella. Of course, I'd love to if Papa...

Oh, I don't see how he can possibly object.

Object? Isn't she funny, Ba?

You're only asked to be a bridesmaid, darling, not a bride.

Yes, I know, Bella, but - Oh, it's so hard to explain.

What's the matter?

You know what's the matter.

It's simply that nothing at all must happen without Papa's sanction.

We've got to obey his least whim.

We can't move hand or foot without his permission.

We haven't got a soul of our own, not one of us.

Henrietta!

Or have we? Have we, Ba?

I tell you, Bella, he'll more than likely refuse

to let me be your bridesmaid,

and just because he's in a beastly temper.

Why, gracious, cousin Henrietta,

you mustn't say such things about uncle Edward.

And I'm afraid we're disturbing poor dear cousin Elizabeth.

Poor, Ba. So pale, so fragile, so ethereal.

One has only to see your dear face to know how near you are to heaven.

I wouldn't quite say that, Bella.

Oh, yes, you always have a look in your eyes, darling,

as though you already saw the angels.

I really must be going.

Goodbye. I'll come again and bring Harry.

Yes, do.

Oh, you mustn't tell anybody about my getting married.

It's to be a big surprise.

And don't worry, cousin Henrietta. I'll manage dear Uncle Edward.

Men are really so easy to manage, if you just know how.

But, of course, you girls have had so little experience.

Goodbye, dear, dear cousins.

Well, why don't you say something?

What do you want me to say?

Nothing.

Oh, Ba, darling. Don't disown me. I deserve it, I know.

But I couldn't help it.

- I'm so miserable. - Miserable, dear?

Yes, and so wildly happy.

Oh, Ba, darling. Do you mind if I tell you about it?

I oughtn't to, I know...

because if Papa ever found out you knew about it

he'd vent half his anger on you for not warning him.

What are you talking about, dear?

Surtees has just asked me to marry him.

Surtees?

Captain Cook. I've told you about him, Ba. The guardsman, you know.

Yes, I remember, dear.

And of course I expected him and said that I couldn't...

and I had to tell him we must never never see

each other again so when we meet tomorrow...

You're not talking sense, child. What really has happened?

I don't know, Ba. Except that we both love each other.

Terribly.

Oh, my darling.

- But Henrietta, Papa... - Do you think I haven't thought of that?

- He'll never consent, dear. Never. - I know.

Ba, dear, is there anything at all to be said

for Papa's attitude toward marriage?

Can it possibly be wrong to want a man's love desperately and...

to long for babies of my own?

Love and babies are something I don't know very much about.

I know, dear, you're a woman apart.

But love and babies are natural to an ordinary girl like me.

- And what's natural can't be wrong. - No...

And yet the holiest men and women renounce these things.

I daresay, Ba. But I'm not holy.

It's different for you. You're a great genius.

Oh, yes you are. You've got your work, your studies.

But do you know, Ba?

Sometimes I wonder.

Are you completely satisfied?

Is it enough just to correspond with Mr. Browning, for instance?

Don't you sometimes wish that you could see him?

- If I could see and not be seen. - Why?

Because at heart I'm as vain as a peacock.

He thinks of my verse as stately and beautiful.

He probably thinks me the same.

It would be so humiliating to disillusion him.

Oh, don't be silly, Ba. You're very interesting and picturesque.

Isn't that how the guidebooks usually describe a ruin?

- Oh, Ba, I didn't mean it. - Of course not, dear.

- Tell me, is your friend very nice? - Surtees?

- Yes. - Oh, yes.

Is he?

Oh, Ba, what are we to do?

Ba, do you think it would be wiser if we were never to see each other again?

- I think it might be wiser, dear. - Oh...

But at your age one shouldn't be too wise.

Oh, Ba. Ba!

Come in.

- A gentleman just brought this, dear. - A gentleman?

Yes. And he said he would wait for an answer.

Really? Excuse me.

- Who is it from? - Why, Henrietta!

A moment, dear.

- Oh! - Oh, Ba, dear, whatever is it?

Ba, dear!

- Oh, really! - Please tell us, darling.

- Why, Ba, you're blushing. - No wonder! Listen to this.

"Dear Miss Barrett,

"I am unable to restrain my impatience to meet you...

"and have taken it upon myself to select February 15th"...

that's today... "for that important occasion.

"And I am at this moment seated in your front

"hall awaiting your permission to present myself."

Wait a moment, there's more.

"I might add that I shall continue to sit here until

"you gratify the earnest desire that prompts my impertinent persistence.

- "Sincerely yours, Robert Browning." - Robert Browning!

Oh, Ba, I like this Mr. Browning. You must see him.

No, I can't. At least not today.

But you should. It can't do you any harm.

Why not?

I don't feel up to it. Really I don't. Another time.

I shall go and see him myself, and I'll send him up.

No, Henrietta! Stay here.

I can't see him. I really don't feel that I could see him now.

Arabel, tell Mr. Browning that I am very sorry, but I'm

I'm not well enough to see him.

But Ba, that's not true. You can't send him away.

But I'd much rather not see him.

Oh, fudge. You're not a silly schoolgirl. I'll bring him up myself.

Is my hair tidy?

- Yes, dear. You look quite nice. - Really?

- Arabel, fix the coverlet. - Yes.

Flush, get down there.

- Arabel... - Yes, dear?

No... yes. No, never mind.

Yes, dear.

- Thank you. - Well...

Well...

Arabel!

- Arabel, do I... - Yes, darling.

You do. Really.

Mr. Robert Browning.

Miss Barrett.

Dear Miss Barrett, at last.

- At last! - How do you do, Mr. Browning?

I've had to put off the pleasure of meeting you much longer than I wished.

Yes. Yes! That is it.

I beg your pardon? That voice.

I've heard that voice a thousand times.

How strange.

As you know from our letters,

I've not been at all well this winter, and I...

Won't you take off your cape?

Thank you.

Wonderful!

Wonderful!

Yes!

You may think, Miss Barrett, that this is the first time that I've been here,

but you're quite wrong, you know.

- But... - Oh, yes, quite wrong.

I've seen this room more times than I can remember.

It's as familiar to me as my own little study at home.

Before I came in, I knew just how your books were arranged.

And just how that tendril of ivy slanted across the window pane.

And those busts of Homer and Chaucer are quite old friends.

No, really.

But you know, I could never make out

who those other fellows were on the top of the wardrobe.

Oh, come, Mr. Browning. I can't believe that one of my friends

has bored you with a description of my poor little room.

I have pestered them for all the details I could possibly get.

And my imagination supplied the rest.

Directly after I had read your brave and lovely verses

I was greedy for anything and everything I could get about you.

Oh, what they must have told you!

Oh, nothing they told me about you personally

had the slightest interest for me.

Because I knew it already. And better than they.

Oh, Mr. Browning. Do my writings give me so hopelessly away?

Hopelessly, utterly, entirely. To me.

Of course I can't speak for the rest of the world.

I'm afraid it will be quite useless...

my ever trying to play-act with you.

Quite useless.

- I shall always have to be just myself? - Always.

But you, you're never yourself in any of your poems.

It's always somebody else speaking through you.

Yes, and shall I tell you why? I'm a very modest man.

I am. really!

We didn't question that, Mr. Browning.

So modest, I fully realise that if I wrote about myself

my poems would be intolerably dull.

Oh, but those poems!

With their glad and great-hearted acceptance of life.

You can't imagine what they mean to me.

Here I am shut in by these four walls and...

and they troop into my room, those wonderful people of yours.

Out of every age and country and...

and all so tingling with life.

No, you'll never begin to realise just...

- just how much I do owe you. - You really mean that?

I... well, Mr Browning...

Of course you do, or you wouldn't say it.

You don't find me difficult, obscure?

- So many people do. - Surely not.

Yet, to me it's all simple and easy as the rule of three.

And to you?

Well, not quite always.

Sometimes there are passages that...

I've marked one or two in your Sordello which rather puzzled me.

Ah, Sordello.

Somebody once called it a horror of great darkness.

I've done my best to forget it.

- Here, for instance. - However...

But then, a passage torn from its context, it...

All petals, no prickles...

No prickles like trickles...

- Well? - Well, Miss Barrett...

when that passage was written, only God and Robert Browning understood it.

Now, only God understands it.

What do you say? Shall we lighten

this great darkness by pitching it on the fire?

No, indeed, we shall do nothing of the kind. Please give me back the book.

I love Sordello.

You would. Of course you would.

And shall I tell you why?

Because it is a colossal failure

If by 'failure' you mean an attempt,

yes, you're right.

That's just why Sordello appeals to my very heart.

I too am always making colossal attempts.

And always failing.

But is not one such failure worth a hundred small successes?

- Oh, a thousand and more. - You think so too?

But of course. I knew that.

Miss Barrett, you smiled when I told you

that your friends had no need to describe you because I knew you already.

But what you've just told me about success and failure

proves to me finally how right I was.

Tell me, did your fancy paint my background with a very gloomy brush?

The background possibly.

But the portrait of you I had painted with the true soul of you,

ardent and lovely, looking out of it.

Ardent and lovely. Oh, Mr. Browning, you think you know me.

Too often impatient and rebellious.

Well, what of it. I've no love for perfect patience under affliction.

My portrait is the portrait of a woman, not a saint.

I suppose people have told you that I...

that I'm a dying woman.

We are all of us dying.

And you find me a very pitiful object?

I find you as I pictured you. Full of courage and gaiety.

And yet I'm not at all sure that my colours were too sombre.

- But... - No, no, listen to me.

Those colours are not yet dry. They must be scraped off.

The whole background must be repainted.

And if only you will allow it, I must have a hand in that splendid work.

- But Mr. Browning - - No, listen.

I'll dip my brush into the sunrise, the sunset and the rainbow.

You say my verses have helped you but they are nothing.

It's I... I who am going to help you now.

We've come together at last, and I don't intend to let you go again.

Give me your hands.

I've more strength than is good for one man.

Up to now I've spent a little of all that surplus energy

in creating imaginary men and women.

But there's still so much to give. Mayn't I give it to you?

Don't you feel new life tingling and prickling

up your fingers and arms right into your heart and brain?

Oh, please.

Mr. Browning, please let go my hands.

Well?

You're really rather an overwhelming person...

and in sober truth I...

Don't tell me that you're afraid of me. You're not.

It's life you're afraid of, and that shouldn't be.

- Life? - Yes.

When life becomes a series of electric shocks, why...

Was it as bad as all that?

Indeed yes.

- Do you affect other people in that way? - They've often told me so.

No wonder I hesitated about meeting you, much as I wanted to.

You know, you'll laugh at me, Mr. Browning,

but when my sister told me you were downstairs...

I was so panic-stricken that I almost

sent a message down saying that I was too unwell to receive you.

I think I must have been quite as nervous as you at that moment...

and I'm anything but a nervous man as a rule.

But that moment was the climax of my life.

Up to now.

Miss Barrett, do you remember the first letter I ever wrote you?

Yes, indeed. It was a wonderful letter.

You may have thought I dashed it off

in a fit of white-hot enthusiasm over your poems...

but I didn't. I weighed every word of every sentence.

And of one sentence in particular.

This sentence: I love your books with all my heart.

And I love you, too.

Do you remember?

Yes. I thought it was charmingly impulsive of you.

But I tell you, there was nothing impulsive about it.

That sentence was as deeply felt and anxiously

thought over as any sentence I've ever written.

I hope I have many readers like you.

It's wonderful to think I may have good friends

all over the world whom I've never seen or heard of.

I'm not speaking of friendship but of love.

It's quite useless your trying to put aside the word with a smile and a jest.

I said love and I mean love.

Really, Mr. Browning, I must ask you to...

I'm as sane and level-headed as any man alive.

Yet all these months, since first I read your poems, I've been haunted by you.

And today you are the centre of my life.

Mr. Browning...

If I were to take you seriously it would of course

mean the quick finish of a friendship which...

promises to be very pleasant to both of us.

Why?

You know very well that love in the sense that you apparently use the word...

has no place, and can have no place in my life.

Why?

For many reasons, but let this suffice...

as I told you before...

- I am a dying woman. - I refuse to believe it.

For if that were so, God would be cruel, and I know that He's compassionate.

And life would be dark and evil, and I know that it's good.

You must never say such a thing again.

I forbid you to.

- Forbid, Mr. Browning? - Yes, forbid.

Isn't it only fair that if you forbid me to speak with you

as I feel, and I accept your orders, as I must,

that I should be allowed a little forbidding as well?

Yes, but...

Dear Miss Barrett, what a splendid beginning to our friendship.

We've known each other a bare half hour

and yet we've talked intimately of art, and life, and death, and love.

We've ordered each other about, and we've almost quarrelled.

Could anything be happier or more promising?

With your permission, I'm going now.

I promised myself to make my first visit as short as possible, as...

strangers undoubtedly tire you.

Not that I am a stranger, but...

still I could see that you're tired. When may I call again?

Why...

- I don't quite know. - Will next Wednesday suit you?

Yes, I think so, but perhaps it would be better...

Next Wednesday then.

- At half past three again? - Yes, but I...

Au revoir, then.

Goodbye.

Au revoir.

- Au revoir. - Thank you.

Splendid, splendid.

Really remarkable.

Once more, dear.

My dear Miss Barrett, I congratulate you.

Now sit down.

You've done wonders, doctor.

The real healer is no one but Miss Barrett herself.

The will to live is better than a dozen physicians.

- The will to live. - Mm. Yes.

Well now, Miss Barrett, about the future.

I fully agree with Dr. Chambers

that another winter in London must be avoided.

I see no reason against your travelling south by October, say?

Travelling south!

To the Riviera, or better still, to Italy.

Italy? Oh, Doctor, do you really mean it?

Why not?

I've taken the liberty to tell the doctor of the only real difficulty,

and he's quite prepared to deal with... him.

Quite, and drastically!

Oh, but I don't think it will be necessary.

Papa may not raise any objection at all.

It all depends on how he's feeling at the time.

Oh, fiddlesticks, my dear young lady...

Mr. Barrett's feelings are neither here not there.

What matters is his daughter's health and happiness,

as I intend to make clear to him. Quite clear.

What a beautiful day it is. Goodbye, my dear Miss Barrett.

Don't get up, don't get up.

I'm delighted with your improvement.

Delighted.

Now for a little talk with your father.

- Goodbye, Miss Elizabeth. - Goodbye, doctor.

Italy! Italy! Italy!

And you are coming too, Flush. We'll see Rome together.

Rome, Venice and Naples. See Naples and die...

Only I'm not going to die.

I'm not going to die.

Yes?

- Mr. Browning is here, Miss Ba. - You may ask him to come up.

- Very good, miss. - No, wait.

Don't trouble, I'll go down.

Oh, Miss Ba. You won't think of it.

I shall not only think of it, but do it.

What's more, I shall do it alone.

You must let me help you. It's not safe. You've not walked downstairs for years.

Let me alone, Wilson. I shall be quite all right.

I can do anything.

- You see? - Oh, Miss Ba.

Mr. Browning.

It is you!

Why, this is magnificent!

Magnificent.

I... well I...

And I did it all alone.

I walked down those stairs alone. A hundred of them.

- A hundred? - Well, fifty.

And this is only the first step.

In a little while you'll be able to drive, and to walk in the park.

In the sun and fresh air.

Come, come sit down.

Oh, it's wonderful.

Wonderful.

Here. Sit here in the sunlight.

Careful.

There we are.

There. Now, that's the setting that I've dreamed for you.

The setting I'm going to keep you in.

Now tell me. Tell me quickly. I've been in suspense all day.

You've seen the doctors. What did they say?

Dr. Ford-Waterlow was quite taken out

of his grumpy self with astonished delight at my improvement.

- Say that again. - Oh, must I, the whole sentence?

I should like to see it in letters of fire

burning at me from each of these four walls.

This is the best moment I've had

since the day I gave myself permission to call on you.

- How many years ago was that? - Three months.

Absurd! We've always been friends. I've known you a lifetime and over.

So he was quite taken out of his grumpy self with delight, was he?

- Yes. - Splendid.

Of course I never once doubted that you'd turn the corner some day.

I've told you so a hundred times.

And Italy? Both doctors agreed about your wintering there?

Yes. Isn't it wonderful? I'm quite off my head with excitement.

Unless, of course, Papa should withhold his consent and...

and that I simply refuse to anticipate.

When do they think you'll be fit for travel?

The middle of October.

Unless there is a relapse.

Relapse? Why, there isn't such a word.

October? That's extraordinary.

You know, October suits my own plans to perfection.

Your plans?

Don't you remember my telling you that I had thought of wintering in Italy myself?

Well, now I'm quite decided.

Oh, Papa, isn't it wonderful?

I walked downstairs.

So I observe.

A miracle, sir. Nothing more or less than a miracle.

Did your doctors authorise this amazing imprudence?

No, Papa.

I should not have been surprised if they had.

Aren't you proud of me, Papa?

Why, sir, there should be dancing in the streets.

A general holiday.

Mr. ... Browning?

My daughter's health has been my main concern for many years...

You'll permit me to remind you that I'm much better informed

on the subject than an outsider?

I shall carry you to your room.

Oh, no, Papa.

- I don't need you, really. - Surely, Mr. Barrett -

Mr. Browning, I must say goodbye.

Thank you for calling.

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth.

You can't do it.

Elizabeth.

- There, my child. - I'm all right, Papa.

- I could have done it. - You overestimate your strength.

All this talk and activity is most harmful.

I'd appreciate it if you tried to get a little sleep.

- Papa. - Well?

I'm all right, really I am.

Dr. Ford-Waterlow said I was. Didn't he tell you?

Dr. Ford-Waterlow talked, if I may say so, a great deal of nonsense.

But Papa...

I'm naturally more than gratified at your improvement. I'm delighted.

Of course, my poor child, it's unlikely you'll ever be a normal woman.

But I do feel so much better.

Perhaps it's the wonderful weather we've been having.

I always thrive in warmth, sunshine...

Rubbish! Last summer was sweltering and you've never been worse than then.

No, to my mind there is only One whom we have to thank...

though this doctor what's-his-name would probably sneer if I mentioned Him.

- Him? - I mean Almighty God.

That's all I have to say for the present.

- Papa. - What is it?

Didn't he tell you that I should avoid spending next winter in England?

Well...

And that he thinks I should be able to travel to Italy in October, if -

- If you... - So!

It's out at last.

And how long has this precious plot been hatching, may I ask?

You've discussed your plans with all your friends and relatives.

I suppose with this Browning fellow too.

I, I alone am left out of my favourite daughter's confidence.

treated like a cypher, insulted.

Insulted?

I'm cut to the heart...

that you, the only one of my children whom I trusted implicitly

should be capable of such underhand conduct.

No, Papa. No!

If returning health must bring with it such a sad change of character,

I shall be driven to wish that you were once more lying helpless on this sofa.

- There's nothing more to be said. - But there is more to be said.

And I must beg you to listen, Papa.

How many years have I lain here?

Five, six? It's hard to remember, each year seemed like ten to me.

And all that time I've had nothing to look forward to, or hope for, but death.

- Death? - Yes, death!

I was born with a large capacity for happiness.

You remember me as a little girl.

And then when life brought me little happiness and much pain,

I was often impatient for the end.

- Elizabeth! - Then this miracle happened.

Day by day I'm better able to take and enjoy

such good things that everyone has a right to.

Able to meet my friends, to breathe the open air,

to feel the sun and see the grass and flowers beneath the sky.

When Dr. Chambers first spoke to me about Italy...

I put the idea from me. It seemed too impossibly wonderful.

But as I grew stronger, it came over me like a revelation

that Italy wasn't an impossibility at all.

That nothing stood in my way of going. That I really had a right to go.

- Right? - Yes, every right!

In my eagerness, I may have acted mistakenly, stupidly, tactlessly...

but to call my conduct underhand and deceitful is more than unkind.

It's unjust. It's cruel.

Self, self, self.

No thought, no consideration for anyone but yourself.

For anything but your pleasure.

Didn't it ever once occur to you that all through the long dark months...

you propose to enjoy yourself in Italy

your father would be left here utterly alone?

- Alone? - Utterly alone.

Your brothers and sisters might as well be shadows

for all the companionship they afford me.

And you, oh my child, don't think I haven't noticed

that you too are slowly drawing away from your father.

That's not true.

It is true. New life, new interests, new pleasures, new friends...

and little by little I'm being pushed into the background.

I who used to be your whole world, I who loved you...

- who love you. - But Papa...

No, there's nothing more to be said.

You want my consent for this Italian jaunt.

I shall neither give it nor withhold it.

If you go I hope you will sometimes spare a thought for your father.

Think of him at night, stealing alone

into this empty room which once held all he loved.

Think of him kneeling alone

by the empty sofa imploring the good Shepherd to have -

Who's that?

I shall come to you again

when you've had time to consider the wisdom of my words.

Well, Flush...

It seems we aren't going to Italy.

- Cousin Elizabeth. - Hello, dear.

I brought Harry to see you.

Oh, I'm so glad!

Ba, this is my fianc�, my dear, dear Harry.

- Mr. Bevan, Miss Elizabeth Barrett. - Delighted, Miss Barrett. Charmed.

No, no, Harry. You must take her hand.

Such a little hand, so frail, so spiritual.

Yes. And the hand that penned so much that is noble and eloquent.

Oh, thank you.

- I am honoured, Miss Barrett. - So nice of you to come.

- Thank you. - We'll only stay a minute.

I trust you're not too weary

of being congratulated upon the prize you've won.

Thank you, Miss Barrett. A prize indeed.

Dear Harry!

Dear Ba. And doesn't Henrietta look lovely?

Oh, thank you!

She'll be quite the prettiest of my bridesmaids.

Indeed I'm afraid she'll draw all eyes from the little bride.

At any rate, all the gentlemen's.

Oh, Bella, dear...

And fancy, Ba, if I hadn't spoken to Uncle Edward myself

I should never have had her for a bridesmaid.

Yes, my dear, you certainly have a way with you.

Spoken to Papa? I like that.

Why, you sat on his knees and stroked his whiskers!

And why not? Isn't he my uncle?

And besides that, I think he's most frightfully thrilling.

I adore that stern and gloomy type of gentlemen.

Oh, come, come, my pet.

And I must tell you, Ba, how much I adore your poems.

Especially when dear Harry reads them.

He reads so beautifully. And he too adores your poems.

Which ought to please you, as he's dreadfully critical.

Not at all, not at all.

Dear Harry is so frightfully earnest.

Yes?

Excuse me, Miss Elizabeth. Mr. Browning is downstairs.

Oh...

Ask him to wait, please.

Oh, no, dear cousin. Ask him to come right up.

We have to go downstairs and have tea with Uncle Edward.

And besides, we wouldn't dream of interrupting your t�te-�-t�te.

Isn't it thrilling, Harry? Mr. Browning, the poet.

And Elizabeth's a poet. Isn't that a coincidence?

Oh, quite, my pet, quite.

Ask Mr. Browning to come up now, Wilson.

Yes, and I'm quite sure that the tea is ready.

Arrivederci, dearest Ba.

May I come soon again?

Yes. Come whenever you like, Bella dear.

Next time I shall want you all to myself.

- Without Harry. - But why must I be excluded?

Because I have heaps and heaps to tell dear Ba about a certain big,

big man, who might easily grow conceited if he heard me.

Oh, come, come, my pet.

It has been a pleasure, Miss Barrett.

It was nice of you to come and see me.

Not at all. I have long been looking forward to the honour of meeting you.

- Thank you. - Good day.

- Goodbye. - Au revoir, darling.

Auf wiedersehen.

Good day.

Oh, Mr. Browning. I'm so thrilled to see you.

It is Mr. Browning, isn't it? It must be because...

I've often heard him called the handsomest poet in England.

Of course you don't know poor little me.

Nevertheless, madam, I thank you.

Isn't he wonderful? Isn't he divine?

The loveliest little shivers are running right down my back.

Come, come, my pet.

I've been unable to think of anything else.

What about Italy? Have you asked him yet?

I'm not to go to Italy.

In spite of the fact that both doctors -

Doctors may propose, but the decision rests elsewhere.

But... didn't they make it clear to him

that this may mean all the difference between life and death?

I believe Dr. Ford-Waterlow spoke very forcibly and...

Then in heaven's name...

It's rather hard to explain to someone who doesn't know all the circumstances.

- You see, Papa is very devoted to me... - Devoted?

Very devoted to me. He depends a great deal on my companionship.

- My brothers and sisters, they don't - - Devoted!

Miss Barrett, may I speak plainly? Oh, do you think you'd better?

I know more or less how you feel but... Very well.

I shall say nothing.

You tell me he's devoted to you.

I don't understand.

I don't understand a devotion that demands favours as if they were rights.

I don't understand a devotion

that spends itself in petty tyrannies and gross bullying.

I don't understand a devotion

that grudges you any ray of light and glimpse of happiness.

Doesn't even stop at risking

your life to gratify its colossal selfishness.

Devotion!

Give me good, sound, honest hatred rather than devotion like that.

Mr. Browning, I must ask you...

Forgive me, but I won't be silent any longer.

Even before I met you I knew

that sickness wasn't the only shadow on your life.

And all these months I felt that other shadow deepening

and I have stood by and looked on.

But I'm done with pretence from today on.

It's not just your comfort and happiness which are at stake now.

It's your very life.

And I forbid you to play with your life.

- And I have the right to forbid you. - No, please don't say any more.

The right. At our first meeting you forbade me to speak of love.

But I knew well enough, we both knew,

that I was to be much more than just your friend.

Even before I passed that door I loved you.

And I've gone on loving you. And I shall love you to the end.

And beyond.

You know that.

You've always known it.

Yes.

Yes, I've... always known it.

And now, for pity's sake, for pity's sake, leave me.

If my father had the least suspicion that you were more than a friend,

both our lives would be made unbearable.

I love you and I shall never leave you.

And I love you, Robert.

And yet you ask me to take my marching orders and go out of your life.

Yes, Robert. But what have I to give you?

I have so little of all that love asks for.

I should have refused to see you again after our first meeting.

For I loved you then, though I would have denied it even to myself.

- I love you. - Oh, Robert.

Do you know what you've done for me?

I could have laughed...

when Dr. Chambers said that I'd heal myself by wanting to live.

Oh, I wanted to live eagerly, desperately, passionately,

but only because life meant you.

You, the sight of your face,

the sound of your voice and the touch of your hand.

Oh, and so much more than that.

Because of you the air once more was sweet to breathe.

And all the world was good and green again.

And with those words singing in my ears, I am to turn my back on you and go.

Yes, Robert. For how is it to end?

- What have we to look forward to and - - I love you.

And I want you for my wife.

Robert, I can't marry you.

How can I with...

Not today or tomorrow. Not this year perhaps, or next.

Perhaps not for years to come.

I may never be able to marry you.

But what then? If you remain to the last

beyond my reach, I shall die proud and happy...

in having spent a lifetime fighting

to gain the richest prize a man was ever offered.

No, no.

Robert, if we were to say goodbye today...

we should have nothing but beautiful memories

of each other to last to the end of our lives.

- Is it you who are speaking? - What do you mean?

Here's life.

Life offering us the best that life can give.

And you dare not grasp at it

for fear that it will turn to dust in your hand.

Then I don't know you, I never thought you were a coward.

A coward?

Yes, Robert, I'm a coward. A coward through and through.

But it's not for myself that I am afraid.

I know that, my dear.

What's another disaster, great or small,

to me who have known little but disaster all my life?

But you're a fighter. You were born for victory and triumph.

Oh, and if disaster ever came to you through me...

Yes. A fighter. But I'm sick of fighting alone.

I need a comrade in arms to fight beside me.

But not one already wounded in the battle.

Wounded but not defeated. Undaunted. Unbroken.

What finer comrade could a man ask for?

- But Robert... - No.

- But Robert. - No.

But see, Uncle Edward, don't you think

that your attitude about love and marriage -

I repeat, Bella, I do not care to discuss that subject.

Of course, dear Uncle Edward. Of course. You aren't angry with me, are you?

- Certainly not, child. - Then why that gloomy frown?

Sit down.

There.

There. All gone.

Oh, come, come, my pet.

If my children were as bright and open and affectionate as you are...

I should be a much happier man.

You mustn't say such things or they'll hate me.

And you're a very charming little person.

- Anything wrong in that? - I didn't say so.

- What's that scent you've got on? - Scent? Me?

Don't you like it?

I abominate scent as a rule, but yours is different.

- Nice? - It's delicate and subtle.

- Still, I'd prefer you not to use it. - Why?

Never mind.

Oh, uncle, you're a darling.

You've called me bright, and open, and affectionate...

charming, and fragrant. All within a few minutes.

You may kiss me.

Do you know who's upstairs, Uncle Edward?

Mr. Robert Browning, the poet.

Isn't that thrilling?

I see nothing particularly thrilling in it.

Mr. Browning's respect for my daughter's intellect

seems to justify continuation of their friendship.

Oh, yes. Such a nice intellectual friendship.

Two poets.

My, my, wouldn't it be frightfully interesting

if only dear Flush could speak?

Not as interesting as if you were to keep silent.

Oh, I'm just joking. And besides, I know that in his great big heart

Uncle Edward is really on the side of romance.

- and the path of true love and all that. - What do you mean?

If you could just have seen her face light up

when Mr. Browning's name was announced.

Bella, you -

My dear daughter Elizabeth,

Business compels me to leave London for some days.

I have a plan

which I trust will compensate you for the loss of your trip to Italy.

Meanwhile, dear child,

do not be misled by what may prove only a temporary improvement.

Receive no visitors

and confine your activities to an occasional drive in the park.

As you know, it is my firm...

Isn't it beautiful?

Yes, miss, the misteria is certainly beautiful.

Isn't it just?

Oh, isn't that Mr. Browning over there?

Shouldn't be at all surprised, miss.

- Ah, Miss Barrett, I believe. - How do you do, Mr. Browning?

How do you do? How do you do, Flush? And Wilson?

Well, isn't this a coincidence?

We were just enjoying the beautiful wisteria.

But it's much more exquisite over there.

I'm afraid, however, you shall have to go on foot.

- No, Miss Ba, you mustn't. - Oh nonsense, Wilson.

I'm perfectly able to walk any distance.

- If you would care to go with me, I... - Yes, thank you.

Wilson, would you wait here? And you too, Flush, dear.

Miss Ba, what would the master say?

When my father returns to town, I shall be very pleased to tell him myself.

- Shall we? - With the greatest of pleasure.

You'll pardon us, Flush.

- Oh, it's so beautiful. - I'm delighted that you like it.

You can't imagine the difficulty I had in getting that

tree to grow that particular position.

And as for the sunlight...

well, my dear, you won't believe the trouble I have with the sun.

It just won't stay still a minute.

So you got the sun to stay there just for me.

Oh, it was nothing at all, I assure you.

- Wait until after we're married. - Please, Robert. Not today.

Let's just have today as a day where there are no controversial subjects.

Agreed.

Now, in here, we have some very rare specimens.

The choicest and most exotic beauties in the floral kingdom.

For instance,

here we have the Orchidaceae Cypripedium.

How exquisite.

Here, by a curious coincidence, we have two chairs.

Also very rare.

And here, my dear, you have a man who loves you.

- Also very rare. - Very.

Yes, yes!

Well, it does!

- Has it got feathers? - No!

- Is it a tiger? - No. No.

- A dragon? - No.

Think of something you're more afraid of than anything else in the world.

Hm. Is is a gggg... girl?

- I know! It's Papa! - Yes!

Listen, Ba.

- Do you remember that, Ba? - Yes, dear.

You wrote the words and I always loved it.

- Did you? - Let Ba play it.

I haven't played in years.

- My arm, madam. - Mine too.

- Make way for the prima donna. - Oh, boys, you...

- I'll turn the pages for you. - Oh, you're making me nervous.

No, no.

Henrietta, dear, you should really play this.

No, darling, you play. Go on, try.

Oh, I don't think I... even remember it.

Wilt thou have my hand

to lie along with thine...

to lie along with thine?

As a little stone in a running stream...

it seems to lie and pine.

Now drop the poor pale hand, Dear,

unfit to bide with thine.

Wilt thou have my hand to lie along with thine...

to lie along with thine?

- That's lovely, Ba. - Well done, Ba.

Look at Henrietta, she's crying.

I just think it's so lovely to hear Ba sing again.

- Bless you, dear. - Sing it again, Ba.

- Yes, do. - Yes, please.

- I will if you all join me. Will you? - Yes.

Wilt thou have my hand

to lie along with thine...

to lie along with thine?

As a little stone in a running stream...

it seems to lie and pine.

Now drop the poor pale hand, Dear,

unfit to bide with thine.

Wilt thou have my hand to lie along with thine...

to lie along with thine?

Good heavens, Ocky, you'll make Flush jealous.

No!

Come on, let's have another game. It's my turn to go out.

Out you go, come on, dear.

- What will it be, I wonder? - I don't know!

I'll tell you what. Let's take Surtees Cook.

Beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth.

This letter's just come. Special messenger brought it.

- It's from Papa. - Aha!

- But he was to return tomorrow. - Perhaps he's been detained.

Do you think so?

- Oh. - Why, Ba, what is it?

- We're leaving. - Leaving? What do you mean?

Yes, leaving this house. Leaving London.

Listen. He writes from Dorking.

"This is to let you know that we shall be leaving London within a fortnight.

"I've taken a furnished house at Bookham in Surrey,

"six miles from the nearest railway station...

"You will benefit by the country air

"and the complete seclusion of your new surroundings."

- Hurry up, aren't you ready yet? - Oh, poor Henrietta.

- We mustn't tell her yet. - Poor Surtees Cook.

"I have felt for some time now that your present

"feverishly restless mode of living in London will, if continued,

"affect you harmfully, both physically and morally."

My "feverishly restless mode of living"!

It's a wonder he doesn't describe me as a recklessly dissipated woman.

"You will inform your brothers and sisters of my decision

"and tell them that I decline absolutely to discuss it when I return home."

- He doesn't say when. - Oh, Ba, you poor darling.

He made my going to Italy impossible, and now...

now we are to be cut off from any little pleasures we find here.

I see that he finishes up with the characteristic touch of humour.

Humour?

He signs himself "your loving Papa".

You see what this means? Yes.

Perhaps better than you do.

Oh, you're wrong. You don't know Papa as I do.

He's grown jealous of my life here. My pleasures and my friends...

and I'm slowly and surely to be parted from them.

Oh, Robert, it will soon be made impossible for me to see you at all.

This precious letter of your father's means a great deal more

that you haven't as yet been able to grasp.

Great deal more?

It means that you will be in Italy before the month is out.

- Italy? - Yes. And with me.

- Robert! - It means we must be married at once.

Do you know what you're saying?

Yes, I know what I'm saying and I'll repeat it.

We must be married at once.

Oh, Robert. It's no use deceiving ourselves.

It's not only Papa who stands between us. It's I.

It's I.

However much stronger I may become, why, I shall always remain an invalid.

Oh, Robert, as your wife, dear, I should be haunted day and night by...

by thoughts of all the glorious things you would have done but for me.

Freedom, adventures...

and passionate love. I...

- I could never really satisfy. - No. No, listen.

Oh, Robert.

I should be haunted by the ghosts of your unborn children.

When I read that letter my world seemed to fall to pieces.

But now I thank God that it came while we're still free,

and have the strength to shake hands and... say goodbye.

On the whole I think this will be our best plan of campaign.

We'll meet at Marylebone Church on Saturday

and be married quietly some time in the morning.

I'll see about the licence at once and interview the vicar.

Robert!

The packet leaves the Royal Pier on Saturdays at midnight.

We must catch the 8 o'clock express at Vauxhall.

It arrives at Southampton at 11. We -

Dearest...

Darling Ba.

Come along, come along.

And I always thought that Papa was the most overbearing man in the world.

And yet you've known me for quite some time now.

I know, Robert, but I mustn't give way.

- I mustn't, I daren't. - There's one other thing, my darling.

You can't possibly travel without a maid.

Do you think Wilson would be willing to come abroad with us?

Robert...

Have you ever thought that my strength may break down in the journey?

Yes.

Suppose I were to... die on your hands.

- Are you afraid, Ba? - Afraid?

You ought to know I'd rather die with you beside me

than live a hundred lives without you.

But how would you feel if I were to die like that?

And what would the world say of you?

I should be branded as a little better than a murderer.

And what I should feel, I leave you to imagine.

- And yet you ask me to come with you? - Yes.

I'm prepared to risk your life and much more than mine.

To get you out of that dreadful house and into the sunshine, and to have you...

for my wife.

You love me like that?

I love you like that.

Robert. Yes, dear.

Will you...

will you give me a little time?

- Time is short, my dear. - Yes, I know.

- Your father is expected back... - Not till next week.

You shall know before then.

You promise me that?

I promise.

Oh, Miss Ba, I was that worried about you. Out in the rain and everything.

- Rain? Oh, yes. - It was quite a shower.

The sun's shining lovely now. Contrary thing.

Oh, is anything wrong, miss?

Wrong? No, Wilson.

Ba! Oh, Ba, you must see him at once, you simply must.

Him?

He's in full regimentals. He's just been to St James'

to receive, or whatever you call it,

his adjunctancy or something, from Queen Victoria herself.

Oh, he's wonderful, he's gorgeous.

I'm talking of Captain Cook, you know.

Yes, so I've gathered.

Darling, I'd sooner not, now. I've just been out and I'm really quite tired.

Will some other time do just as well?

No, no. I've told you, he's in full uniform.

Oh, he's just on the landing outside. Please see him, Ba.

- All right darling, bring him in. - Oh, sweetie.

Come up, Surtees.

Careful or you'll wreck yourself.

There.

Attention!

March!

Captain Surtees Cook, Ba. My sister Elizabeth.

Your servant, Miss Barrett.

Captain Cook.

Twice honoured in one day, you know.

First by Her Majesty, and then by you, Miss Barrett.

Really, I don't know what I've done to deserve it.

That's right, you've just come from the palace, haven't you?

I've never seen the Queen. Tell me, what is she like?

Very little lady, ma'am. But royal, every inch of her.

Surtees, you haven't got your sword on.

Not etiquette, as I told you, to wear it indoors.

Oh, bother etiquette. I want Ba to see you in full war paint.

Where did you leave it?

- Well, it's in the hall. - I'll fetch it.

No, look here, Miss Barrett doesn't want to...

But indeed I do, Captain Cook.

I don't think I've ever seen an officer in full war paint before.

Indeed?

Won't you sit down.

Oh, yes, Wilson, I think you'd better take Flush out.

He always gets so excited when there are a few people in the room.

Oh, yes, of course.

- Miss Barrett... - Yes?

- Miss Barrett... - Yes, Captain Cook?

I say, Miss Barrett...

You want to tell me something about Henrietta, don't you?

Just so, Miss Barrett. Just so, exactly.

- You know, Miss Barrett, you know... - Yes, Captain Cook, I know.

And believe me, you have my heartfelt sympathy.

Thank you, oh, thank you, it's more than I deserve.

Thank you, Miss Barrett.

Never was such a girl, you know. Henrietta, I mean.

I don't know what I've done to deserve it.

Captain Cook...

Did he tell you something when I was out of the room?

Don't tell me he really managed to get it out.

Well, perhaps not quite, did you, Captain Cook?

Well, still you know, like most ladies, quick on the uptake.

Yes, I understood.

Listen, my dear. Don't ever let anything

keep you from doing what you think in your heart is right.

- Remember that. - Ba!

Quite aware I'm not much of a match, Miss Barrett, but...

poor man, you know.

Surtees, let me buckle on your sword.

Oh, I say...

Ba thinks that poets are the flower of manhood. A certain poet, at any rate.

I mean to show her that she's mistaken.

- You've got it wrong, you know. - I have?

Yes. The sword hangs from the left hip, you know.

- Why? - Well, it's sort of...

Papa!

You're back sooner than I expected, Papa.

I don't think I have the privilege of this gentleman's acquaintance.

Captain Cook, may I introduce my father. Papa, Captain Surtees Cook.

Your servant, sir.

Captain Cook is a great friend of George and Ocky.

Indeed.

My sons are very rarely at home at this time of the day.

The fact is, sir, I was just passing the house and I...

thought I'd look in, you know, sir,

just on the off-chance of finding one of them in, and all that.

I see.

Captain Cook has just come from Buckingham Palace.

And Henrietta thought I should like

to see him in all the splendour of his regimentals.

Indeed.

Nothing much to look at, of course, sir, but...

ladies like a bit of colour, and I thought...

By Jove, it must be getting late.

It is 19 and a half minutes past twelve.

By Jove, it's high time that I was moving.

- Goodbye, Miss Barrett. - Goodbye, Captain.

- Goodbye, Miss Henrietta. - I'll see you out.

Your servant, sir.

I'm seeing Captain Cook to the door.

The servants will attend to that.

This house is fast becoming a rendez-vous for half London.

This was the first time I have had the pleasure of meeting Captain Cook.

Indeed, but I infer from what I saw as I came into the room...

that Henrietta's acquaintance is of somewhat longer standing.

Or am I mistaken?

I've known Captain Cook for some time now.

Oh. Since when has it been your custom to buckle on his accoutrement?

I'd never seen him in full uniform before.

And I think it improbable that you will see

him in full uniform, or otherwise, in the future.

But Papa...

Captain Cook to be forbidden to visit us because I helped him on with his sword?

- You received my letter? - Yes, Papa.

What has just happened fully confirms me in the wisdom of my decision.

Fortunately our new home is so far from town

that your London friends are not likely to trouble us.

Our new home? I don't understand.

Are we leaving Wimpole Street?

I have taken a house in Bookham in Surrey.

Why?

I am not in the habit of accounting

for my actions to anyone, least of all to my children.

But one thing I've a right to ask you, Papa.

Is Captain Cook to be forbidden the house because of... what just happened?

I understood you to say Captain Cook was George's friend and Ocky's.

Yes, and my friend too.

Ah... come here.

Yes, Papa?

Come here!

What is this man to you?

I told you, he's a friend of ours.

What is he to you?

- A friend. - Is that all?

Yes.

- You liar! - Papa! - Papa!

- Papa, let me go. - What is this man to you? Answer me.

- Please, Papa, please. - Answer me!

- Oh don't, don't. - Answer me!

He's... he's...

- Oh, Papa, I love him! - Ah...

- Oh, Papa, no... - Oh... you... you...

- You... you...! - Papa! Papa!

Let her go! I won't have it! Let her go at once.

And you knew of this filthiness!

I've known that Henrietta loved Captain Cook

for some time, and I've given her all my sympathy.

- You dare to tell me! - Yes!

I would have given her all my help too, if I'd had it to give.

I'll deal with you later. Get up!

Papa, please listen to me, please...

I'm not a bad girl. I swear to you I'm not.

I know I've deceived you, and I'm sorry. But I love him... I love him!

He's a good man. It can't be wrong to love him.

I want love. I can't live without love.

Papa, remember how you loved Mama and how she loved you

and you'll understand and pity me.

Get up!

Sit there!

How long has this been going on?

Do you hear me? How long have you been carrying on with this fellow?

I've known Captain Cook for a little over a year.

Have you been with him often?

- Yes, - Alone?

- Yes. - Where?

- We met in the park, and... - And here?

- Yes. - Here and alone?

Have you been with him in this house alone?

Yes.

So, clandestine meetings under my own roof

and abetted by one whom I believed to be holy, chaste and good...

How dare you, Papa.

Now listen to me.

Unless you give me your solemn word that you will neither see...

nor have any communication with this man again,

you will leave my house at once,

as you are, with nothing but the clothes you have on.

Once outside my doors, you can go to perdition any way you please.

But you will never be admitted again as long as I live.

I think you know I never go back on my word.

You have your choice. Take it.

Is it nothing to you that I shall hate you for this to the end of my life?

Less than nothing.

Will you give me your word neither to see

nor to have any communication with this man again?

I have no choice.

Elizabeth, give me your Bible.

My Bible belonged to Mama. I can't have it used for such a purpose.

- Give me your Bible. - No.

You refuse?

Yes.

Come here.

Place your hand upon the Book.

Repeat after me. I give you my solemn word...

that I will neither see

nor have any communication with Captain Cook again.

I give you my solemn word that I will neither see...

nor have any communication with Captain Cook again.

You will now go your room, and remain there

until you have my permission to leave it.

Henrietta.

Henrietta.

Do you remember what I told you?

Just what did that mean?

I was reminding Henrietta of what I said to her a short time ago.

I begged her to fight for her happiness.

- You dare! - Yes, yes!

For years I've crushed down my doubts.

I've tried to persuade myself that, in spite of all, you loved us.

But at last I've been forced to face the truth.

You're like a shadow over our lives.

I command you to be silent, do you hear me?

I won't stand by and see you wreck her life if I can save her.

You may be too strong for me, but at least I'll try.

- I'll try. - Elizabeth!

You might have had the love of all your children.

But instead you have fear.

- Fear and hatred. - Elizabeth!

Hatred, I tell you. Hatred and mine too. Hatred.

It will be hard for me to forget what you have said.

I shall leave you under my extreme displeasure.

When you have repented your wickedness

and are ready to ask for God's forgiveness,

and mine, you may send for me.

Come in.

Wilson, shut the door, please.

Wilson...

- Are you my friend? - Your friend?

Yes, I'm very much in need of friendship and help at the moment.

Oh, I'm that fond of you. I'd do anything to help you, Miss Ba.

Wilson,

I'm going to marry Mr. Browning.

- Marry? - Shhh. Yes.

- Does he know? - No, and he mustn't. Nobody must.

I should just think not indeed.

Oh, Miss Ba.

I'm that glad.

After we're married we're going to Italy.

And Mr. Browning would like to know if you'll come with us.

- To Italy? - Yes. Will you come?

Well, miss, I don't see as how I can help meself.

Not that I hold with foreign parts, I don't, but...

husband or no husband, you'd never get to Italy alive without me.

Thank you, Wilson.

Now, I want you to take a letter right to Mr. Browning.

You'll have to take a cab at once.

A cab?

Yes, go on. Get on your things.

I'll have it finished by the time you're ready.

- Hurry! - But Miss Ba...

- is it to be at once? - No, probably not for a month or so.

- Be quick, though. - Yes, miss. I'll bustle, miss.

But Miss Ba...

- If it's not to be for a month... - Yes, Wilson, I know I'm absurd...

but I may lose courage.

Besides, I believe Mr. Browning will be glad to get my letter.

Oh, I'm sure he will, miss.

Wilson! Has anything happened?

- What is it? - Miss Ba sent this for you, sir.

Oh.

It's all right, sir.

Wilson, I...

I was...

I was afraid that... perhaps...

If you don't mind, sir...

- I think it's splendid. - Oh, thank you, Wilson, thank you.

- Thank you, Wilson. - If you don't mind, sir.

Oh yes.

Wilson, I knew she'd do it. I had no right to be afraid.

- I wasn't really afraid. - Oh, no, sir.

Wilson, do you realise that you are the bearer of the greatest

good tidings since they brought the good news from Ghent to Aix?

You wait here now, Wilson.

I'm going upstairs and tell the good news to my mother.

- I'm going to tell it to everybody. - Oh I wouldn't do that, sir.

You wait here and then we'll go back together in triumph to Wimpole Street.

Perhaps we'd better have music. A band or something.

You mustn't do that, sir.

- The master's come home. - What's that?

Mr. Barrett, sir. He came home.

- Oh, Miss Ba. - Shhh.

Oh, Miss Ba, you can't imagine...

What did he say?

Well, miss, he's a most unusual man.

There he stood giving me orders. Telling me what you and me was to do.

Really, miss, I don't know what your married life is going to be like.

But, Wilson, was he pleased when he read the letter?

He was that pleased, miss.

What did he say, how did he look? I want to know everything.

Well, miss... He couldn't say a word at first.

- He seemed all kind of choked up like... - Oh, Wilson.

Wilson, he was happy that I...

Yes, miss, he was that happy. You should have seen his face.

And then he started running around with timetables and those things.

And he says you're to wear your ordinary travelling clothes to the church.

The church?

Yes, miss, you're going to be married tonight.

But, Wilson. That's absurd.

Tonight? How can we? I don't know. But we're going to.

He's going to get a vicar and a special licence.

And as soon as we're finished packing, we're to meet him at the church.

So I might just as well start packing.

- But Wilson, how can we? - Don't ask me. Ask him.

What dresses are you going to pack, miss?

Wilson, do you want to drive me mad? You know we can't.

He says we can.

Oh, miss. There's a lot I'd give to be here...

when the master finds out you've gone and got married.

Don't Wilson, don't. The very thought terrifies me.

Wilson, put back those things and give me time to think.

You know it's out of the question. I'm not prepared and I...

Wilson! Put back those things.

Oh, miss, you did give me a turn. Be quiet.

Ba!

- What on earth is the matter? - Why, nothing.

Nothing. It's just...

- It's all been so upsetting. - I don't believe that's all.

Look at Wilson. You've startled us.

Wilson, will you come back in a little while?

Yes, miss.

Is there something you want to say to me, dear?

Yes.

Papa threatened to turn me out of the house

unless I swore on the Bible not to write or see Surtees.

- Yes. - Well...

- I'm going to break that Bible oath. - Are you, dear?

Yes, and I shall glory in breaking it.

I shall see Surtees every day till we leave.

And when we're in the country I shall write to him.

And if Papa asks me, I'll go out of my way to lie to him.

I see. Why do you tell me this?

Because I want you to say that I'm a wicked,

deceitful, perjured, loose woman...

so that I can fling the words back in your face.

Oh, Ba.

Ba, darling, I didn't mean that. I'm not myself.

I'm all love and hate. I don't know which is the worse torture.

Oh, my dear. My dear, you think I don't understand, but I do.

I do.

And I implore you, dear, never lose hope.

Never lose courage. Never.

The master.

Ba, there is something.

You're as white as a sheet. What is it? Is there anything I can do?

No, no, no. Don't speak, don't ask me anything.

You know nothing, you understand? Nothing, nothing.

What's the matter with that woman?

- Wilson? - Yes, and you.

Nothing, Papa.

- Where have you been? - Nowhere.

- Where are you going? - To post a letter to Aunt Hedley.

- Is that the truth? - Yes.

- You remember your oath? - Yes.

- Are you going to keep it? - Yes.

I want to speak to your sister. You may go.

- Do you know why I've come back? - No, Papa.

Because I cannot bear to be estranged from you.

You should have come to me to beg

my forgiveness for your wicked and cruel words.

But in spite of my sense of right and justice and duty, I had to come to you.

And I despise myself for coming.

- Despise myself and hate myself. - Oh, no, no.

Oh, Papa, can't you see,

won't you ever see that strength may be weakness?

And that your sense of justice

and duty and right are all mistaken and wrong?

It's been my heavy cross that those whom I was given to guide and rule

have always fought against the right which I knew to be the right,

and was in duty bound to impose upon them, even you.

Even your mother

- My mother? - Yes, your mother.

You, my eldest child, were born of love and only love.

But the others, long before they came, love died out and fear took its place.

- No, no. - Fear.

And all because I saw the right and did it.

Not that she ever opposed me, ever once.

Oh, dear God, what she must have suffered.

Ba, my dear, don't, don't.

I shouldn't have spoken about it. Take your hands from your face.

Don't look at me like that. You don't understand, how should you?

You know nothing of the brutal tyranny of the senses and how

even the strongest and best are driven by it to hell.

- Would you have abetted your sister... - Henrietta's love!

- You dare speak of it in the same breath? - Her love?

You ignorant little fool, what do you know about love?

Love. Desire.

It's time a little reality were brought into your dream of life.

- I won't listen to you. - You must! You shall!

Do you suppose I should have guarded my house

like a dragon from this so-called love...

if I hadn't known, from my own life, all it entails of degradation and remorse?

With the help of God and through years of

tormenting abstinence I strangled it in myself...

and so long as I have breath in my body

I'll keep it away from those I was given to protect.

Do you understand me?

Yes.

I understand you. I understand you.

Very well.

This has been a painful necessity but I had

to speak plainly lest your very innocence...

should smirch the purity I'm utterly resolved to maintain in my household.

But you're cold as ice. Why are you trembling?

I shall never forget what you have said.

For the love of heaven, my darling,

don't let this raise any further barrier between us.

I cannot play the coward's part, and take the easier way and shirk my duty.

I'd rather be hated by the whole world than gain love that way.

Oh, Papa, you don't know how I pity you.

Pity?

I don't want your pity.

But if ever I should lose you or your love...

My darling, in our new home, we shall draw close to each other again.

Nothing and no one can come between us, my child, my darling.

You want me to be happy.

The only happiness I shall ever know is all yours to give or take.

You must look up to me and depend on me and lean on me.

You must share your thoughts with me, your hopes, your fears, your prayers...

I can't bear it, I can't bear any more. Let me go, Papa. Please, let me go!

Forgive me, my dear, I was carried away.

- Shall I leave you now? - Please.

- Shall I see you again tonight? - Not tonight.

I shall pray for you.

Pray for me tonight?

Yes.

Pray for me tonight, if you will.

Did he find anything out?

Wilson, I'm going. I must.

Now, at once.

- Oh, Miss Ba, what's happened? - At once.

- But we haven't packed. - Well, we must go without.

But we won't have so much as a nightgown.

- We can buy them. - Miss Ba...

I can't stay here, Wilson. I'm frightened. I'm frightened.

Fetch your cloak and bonnet.

But, Miss Ba, if he did catch us...

He can't stop me. I don't belong to him anymore.

He could kill me, but he can't stop me.

Oh, I daren't just now, Miss Ba. Oh, I daren't.

- Then I must go alone. - No, you can't do that.

Wilson, I must. That's all I know. I must go.

- To Robert. - But, Miss Ba...

Wilson, until today I've never really known my father.

I've even hoped I might confide in him, but now I know it would be hopeless.

He'd crush me as he crushed my mother.

Oh, Miss Ba...

He's cruel, Wilson. Cruel and pitiless. And I'm afraid.

Wilson, if you want to draw back you need never reproach yourself.

But I must go to Mr. Browning now.

I'll fetch my cloak and bonnet at once, miss.

- Wilson. - Oh, Miss Ba.

They're all down to dinner now, miss. The master's just gone in.

All right, Wilson.

Come, Flush.

- Henrietta! - I'm going to call Arabel, Papa.

Take your place. We shall proceed without her.

Almighty Father, giver of all good gifts...

who of Thy divine providence hath provided Thy unworthy servants...

with all things necessary to their bodily sustenance,

grant, we beseech Thee, spiritual grace...

that we may enjoy in

quietness of spirit the fruits of Thy bounty...

and render unto Thee most humble and hearty thanks. Amen.

Amen.

Arabel!

- For heaven's sake, what is it? - Stop that at once!

- What is she talking about? - Heavens, Arabel, what's got into you?

She's gone. To be married.

- What do you mean? - Arabel!

Arabel, pull yourself together at once!

Where's Ba? Answer me, where's Ba?

She's gone. She left this note. Read it.

It's true. The letter's true!

She sends us her love and will write to us all from Italy.

Italy.

Look! This letter is for Papa.

- Papa. - What's to be done?

Someone must give him Ba's letter.

Let me. I should love to.

Oh hush...

What is the meaning of this? Who was making that hideous noise?

Where is Elizabeth?

Do you hear me?

Where is your sister?

She left you this letter.

Left me?

What do you mean?

She left a letter for Arabel,

and this for you.

Oh, Papa, you must forgive her. Not for her sake, but for yours.

I thought I hated you, but I don't. I pity you. Pity you.

And if you have any pity for yourself, forgive her.

Elizabeth.

Yes, yes, her dog.

Yes, I'll have her dog.

- Octavius. - Yes, sir.

- Her dog must be destroyed at once. - What?

You will take it to the vet tonight. Do you understand me? Tonight.

Do you understand me?

Heavens, I really don't see what the poor little beast has done.

Do you understand me?

In her letter, Ba writes that she has taken Flush with her.

For as much as Robert and Elizabeth have consented together in holy wedlock...

and have witnessed the same before God and this company...

I pronounce that they be man and wife together.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost...

Amen.

God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Ghost...

Bless, preserve and keep, that ye may so live together in this life...

that in the world to come ye may have life everlasting.

Amen.