Original subtitles

Look.

- Man: we'll go further down the line now. - (grunting)

Drop off the next load.

Here we go.

The future.

Thank you.

- Here's your bag. - Man: There we are. I've got it.

- Is it Dr. Lydgate? - Yes.

Welcome to Middlemarch, sir.

I understand you've purchased Dr. Peacock's practice.

- Yes, I have. - No doubt you'll be kept busy, sir.

This way if you please.

(giggling)

We're late. Let's go back through the woods.

(both laughing)

- (baby crying) - (bird chirping)

Come on, Dodo, we're going to be late.

Thank you, Pimble.

I believe I shall give up riding, Celia.

Oh, Dodo!

Horses need exercise, you know, and Pimble needs employment.

Yes, I know, but is that all we can do,

- exercise horses and employ servants? - I don't know, Dodo.

Fences cost money, you know?

They'll cost you a lot more money if you let 'em rot, Mr. Brooke.

Ah, now I think you'll find there's a middle way, Roach, a middle way.

Mr. Brooke, the matter's urgent. Your cattle are getting out.

If they got out, they'll get in.

Woman: His systems need purging.

- Shall I move him downstairs and have him bled? - No, no, no purpose.

It's relieving to the spirit to be active,

but in these cases, there is nothing to be done but observe the progress of the fever.

I shall look at it again tomorrow.

Lydgate, how are you?

Reverend Farebrother. Well enough, as you see.

- Finding your feet then? - I feel as if I've been here all my life.

Good. I've just been chatting to old Mrs. Hislop.

She's some tales to tell about this place in the old days before you came...

- Make your blood run cold, Lydgate. - I doubt that very much.

All you medical men, it takes a good deal to shock you.

You see all sides of life.

Oh! I ran into a friend of yours the other day. Trawley was the name.

Trawley? I knew him when I was studying in Paris.

He was such a political idealist.

He wanted to found a utopian community in the forest.

- Did he ever do it? - I think not.

He'd been a doctor at a German spa,

married his richest patient,

and retired before he was 30.

More of a realist than an idealist, I'd have said.

What a damned shameful waste of a life.

Some might not say so.

Not everyone has your moral fiber, Lydgate.

But I'm late for a christening, shall I be forgiven? I doubt it.

- Mr. Bulstrode. - Ah.

- Good day to you. - Mr. Farebrother.

Dr. Lydgate, will you do me the favor

of walking across to the bank with me?

The plans for the new hospital

- are ready for your inspection. - Are they? Good. Good!

- Of course. - Excuse us.

How soon will it be ready for use?

- A matter of months. - Excellent.

- Excellent. - And I believe I can assure you

it will be dedicated as a fever hospital.

I advised that it should.

- Man: That's the new sawbones, is it? - Lydgate, yes.

Very well spoken of.

Clever man.

Good family too, they say.

Mmm.

This is an excellent design, Mr. Bulstrode.

The architect has vision,

and he's been well instructed.

In a few years' time, we could have a first-class medical school here in Middlemarch.

Why should London and Paris and Edinburgh have it all?

I'm convinced that the causes and treatment of typhoid and cholera

will very soon yield to rigorous scientific investigation.

Why should they not yield to it here, in Middlemarch?

- Aye. - Where are the kitchens?

Oh yes, I see. Good, good.

You will continue to give your services without payment?

Yes, of course.

I have my general practice, Mr. Bulstrode,

and my wants are modest. I know I can do good here.

My aim is to do good, small work for Middlemarch...

and great work for the world.

You see, I am ambitious.

I am glad to hear it, sir.

As you know, I mean to entrust to you

the superintendence of my new hospital.

But you recognize the existence

of spiritual interests in your patients?

Of course. This room would make an excellent laboratory,

- don't you think? - I refer to the chaplaincy of the hospitals.

I am proposing to the committee that Reverend Mr. Farebrother

should be replaced by the Reverend Mr. Tyke.

Oh, what's wrong with Farebrother?

Oh, he is a man deeply painful to contemplate.

Though I suppose there's not a clergyman

in this country who has greater talents.

Really? I haven't yet been pained by finding any...

excessive talent in Middlemarch.

I mean that Mr. Farebrother has great talents,

but he dissipates them shamefully. He lacks spirituality.

He brings his calling into disrepute.

Does he indeed? Well, I have no knowledge in these matters.

- If this room were a laboratory – - Dr. Lydgate –

the matter of the chaplaincy will be referred to the medical board.

It will be voted on. You will be required to vote.

I trust I may ask of you this at least,

in virtue of the association between us

which I now look forward to,

that you will not be influenced

by my opponents in this matter.

Let me boldly confess to you, Dr. Lydgate,

that the affairs of this temporal world

are as nothing to me

when they are in conflict with my spiritual duty.

I trust I make myself clear.

I'm not sure if I've made the fireplaces big enough.

Farmworkers' cottages, a new design.

Yes, very nice, but you know uncle -

they'll never be built, Dodo.

Do you think we might look through mama's jewels now, and divide them between us?

I think it will be lacking in respect to mama's memory

if we were to put them by and never look at them.

You know uncle has invited Sir James Chettam

- and that other gentleman to dine with us this evening. - Mr. Casaubon.

Uncle says he is the most learned man in the county.

What do you think about mama's jewels?

You mean you would like to wear them?

I thought we both might.

Look.

You can wear that with your Indian muslin, Kitty.

And, Dodo, I thought this cross for you.

Not as a trinket.

No you have it. Have them all.

How can I wear ornaments if you never will?

It is too much to ask that I should wear trinkets to keep you in countenance.

They are lovely, though.

You know, it's strange

how deeply colors seem to penetrate one.

Like scent.

They look like fragments of heaven.

Here's a bracelet to match it. Try it, please, Dodo.

- They are lovely. - And necklaces are quite usual now,

really, Dodo, even for Christians.

Surely there must be women in heaven now who wore jewels!

You must keep these, if nothing else. Say you will.

Perhaps I shall.

Brooke: Sir Humphry Davy, now...

I dined with him years ago at Cartwright's.

Wordsworth was there, you know,

Wordsworth, the poet?

Davy was a poet too. did you know that?

Or as you might say, Wordsworth was poet one

and Davy was poet two, do you follow?

Wordsworth was poet one and Davy was poet two.

(guests laugh)

Do you know Davy, Casaubon?

No, sir, I regret that I do not.

Chettam here has studied Davy,

and his agricultural chemistry.

But it won't do.

I am reading the agricultural chemistry, Miss Brooke.

Because I want to take one of my farms into my own hands,

and see if I can set a good pattern of farming amongst my tenants.

Do you approve of that?

Why yes. Very much indeed, Sir James.

I wish you could persuade my uncle to do the same.

Brooke: No. It won't do.

Fancy farming I call it.

Most expensive sort of whistle you can buy. May as well keep a pack of hounds.

Surely it's not a sin, uncle, to spend money

in finding out how to make the most of the land that supports us.

Brooke: The ladies don't understand political economy, you know.

No, a little light literature is more to their taste.

- Uncle. - Novels, you know.

Poetry, Scott, Shelley.

Southey now. Do you know Southey at all, Casaubon?

I have at present little leisure

for modern literature.

I live too much with the dead, perhaps.

(Mr. Brooke chuckles)

Casaubon's engaged upon a great work, you know?

Isn't that so, Casaubon?

I believe I am, yes.

Perhaps too great a work for the mind of one man to compass.

May I know what it is, Mr. Casaubon?

I'm compiling a key to all mythologies, Miss Brooke.

I'm seeking to elucidate those elements

which underpin every system of belief known to man.

It's not perhaps a subject of great interest to young ladies.

On the contrary. To me that seems like a wonderful endeavor.

Well, you're very kind, Miss Brooke.

I'm much encouraged.

How do you arrange your documents?

Pigeon-holes, partly.

Ah, pigeon-holes will not do. I never know whether a paper's in "a" or "z".

I wish you would let me sort your papers, uncle.

I would letter them all. And then make a list of subjects under each letter.

But you have an excellent secretary at hand, you perceive.

I hear you're determined to give up riding, Miss Brooke.

- Surely that isn't true. - It is true, Sir James.

Oh, but why? You're such an accomplished horsewoman.

And it is such healthy exercise.

And every lady should be a good horsewoman, you know –

that she may accompany her husband.

Surely it isn't possible you should think riding is wrong?

It is quite possible that I should think it wrong for me.

Oh? Why?

I simply feel there ought to be a better way to live.

But surely –

- Perhaps we should not inquire too closely, as to motives.

I believe I understand your response, Miss Brooke.

Thank you.

There seems to be so much that is trivial about our lives here.

And I'm so very ignorant.

My education has been so imperfect.

There's so much to do,

so much to learn.

You're truly interested in scholarship then?

Oh yes.

It must be wonderful to be engaged

in some great work as you are.

It is a great challenge to bring together

all the major disciplines – theology, philosophy, cosmology –

to show how every faith springs from the same outward source.

It is a great endeavor.

My notes already present a formidable range of volumes.

But the crowning task would be to condense

these still expanding insights into a single, unified whole.

Oh yes.

Miss Brooke, this visit for me has been...

...may I say this?

More than pleasant.

I have felt the disadvantage of loneliness

that inevitably accompanies any serious scholarship.

But the presence of youth...

...of cheerful companionship...

perhaps I've said too much.

No, not at all.

I feel I understand you.

And if I say in my turn, that I have longed for some great purpose

in my life which would give it shape and meaning.

You do not find such an aspiration ridiculous?

Surprising, perhaps, in one so young,

but not ridiculous.

No. Not ridiculous at all.

It is time for me to leave.

Yes, of course.

Brooke: Now then, a good journey to you,

and a safe one.

They're full of oats, they'll take you a good crack.

Well, well, he's not such a bad fellow after all.

(Mr. Brooke chuckles)

(men laughing)

Hiram, are you counting?

(men murmuring)

(men "ooh")

89!

(talking quiets)

Man: Luck of the devil, Mr. Farebrother.

Oh, lovely little player though.

Could have made a living of it.

'e does make a living at it, near enough.

Pays for his butter if not his bread, aye, me lads?

Well, that vicaring's not a paying game.

I don't blame him.

- (men cheering) - Well done, Mr. Farebrother!

Found another lamb to fleece, I see, Mr. Farebrother.

More fool you, Mr. Fred, for playing with a clergyman.

Clergy always wins, you know.

- God's on their side. - And so he is, Mrs. Dollop.

- Yup. - Yeah.

Master Vincy.

Over here.

I'm afraid I can't afford to pay you just yet, Mr. Bambridge.

No? (laughs) I'm not surprised.

I hope I shan't have to speak to your father about it.

- Mr. Bambridge. - Mr. Farebrother. Your winnings, sir.

Good.

- Good evening. - Man: Evening, sir.

Evening. Evening, Mrs. Dollop.

Evening, Mr. Farebrother.

(hooves clop)

(bells ringing)

Farebrother: Lydgate!

Excellent. Well met.

Are you busy this evening? Where are you off to?

Just a solitary supper in my lodgings with a book for company.

There's an experiment I want to think about.

Postpone it. Come home and take a supper at my house.

No, I insist. Then you can inspect my collection.

What do you say to that?

Woman: Here are the glasses, Camden. Good night.

- Good night, Camden, dear. - Farebrother: Good night, mother.

- Good night all. - Woman: What a charming man.

- (door shuts) - Lydgate: Formidable.

You're a scientist.

(laughs) I keep my mind alive.

You have no hobbies yourself?

There's so much I want to achieve in my profession,

both practically and in theory.

I have the ocean to swim in here.

- Many men would call Middlemarch a backwater. - It's ideal for my purposes.

I want to work on fever,

the prevention and the treatment.

I think I'll be able to show dramatic results in a town of this size.

By example I want to bring about a general reform in practice.

We shouldn't still be making our money by selling panaceas

that are as useful as bottled ditchwater.

I believe you'd like to make Middlemarch

a model for all England to follow.

That's exactly what I want to do.

In the country you can follow your own course more easily.

People let you alone. You can get on with your own life.

Hmm...

Lydgate, I think I should warn you.

You're new to Middlemarch.

It's not the simple place it seems.

For example, you're my friend, I hope.

But if you vote for me as a chaplain to the new hospital,

you'll make an enemy of Bulstrode.

And that is something no one should do lightly.

- He can do you harm. - I hope I act on my beliefs,

not out of petty expediency.

Life's too short for that sort of...

provincial moral shabbiness.

What does Bulstrode have against you?

That I don't teach his opinions –

which he calls spiritual religion.

It's the sort of Christianity

that does more to make people feel uncomfortable

than to make them feel better.

It makes me shudder.

And he says I haven't the time to look after both hospitals.

That's true.

But I could make the time.

And I should be glad of the £40.

I should be happier to earn it

in the exercise of my vocation,

rather than in the billiard room or at the card table.

But let's dismiss all that.

Just remember, if you do vote with Bulstrode,

you're not to cut me in consequence.

Idealists and intelligent men are thin on the ground in Middlemarch.

I simply can't afford to do without you, Lydgate.

Thank you, Pritchard.

Knock at Mr. Fred's door again, Pritchard,

- and tell him it's gone half past 10:00. - Yes, Mrs. Vincy.

Mama, when Fred comes down,

I wish you would not let him have red herrings.

I can't bear the smell of them all over the house.

Rosamond, my love, a red herring's not much, is it?

We women must learn to put up with little things

and if it's only the smell of a red herring, you can count yourself lucky.

- You'll be married someday. - Yes, but not to anyone like Fred.

And not to anyone who has red herrings.

- And not to anyone at all from Middlemarch. - So it would seem, my dear,

- for you've as good as refused the pick of them. - Mama –

- What is it, Rosy? - I wish you would not say the pick of them.

It is rather a vulgar expression.

Yes, very lightly, my dear.

What should I say then?

The best of them.

Well, I never. That sounds just as plain and common to me,

but with your education, you must know, dear.

Good morning, mother. Rosy.

Rosamond.

Ham, toast, potted beef.

Is there nothing else for breakfast?

- Should you like eggs, sir? - Eggs?!

No, bring me a grilled bone.

- Yes, sir. - Rosamond: Really, Fred.

What would you think of me if I came down

at half past 10:00 and ordered grilled bone?

I should think you were an uncommonly fast young lady.

I don't see why brothers have to be so disagreeable.

Disagreeable describes your feelings, not my actions.

- I think it describes the smell of a grilled bone. - Not at all.

It describes the sensation in your little nose associated

with certain finicking notions acquired in Mrs. Lemon's Finishing School.

Mother, I shall ride over to Stone Court this morning.

Oh? To see Mary Garth, I suppose.

It's a pity you have not the patience to go see your uncle more often, Rosy.

So proud of you as he is, and wanted you to go and live with him

and now Mary Garth has got in there.

Mary Garth can bear Stone Court because it was that or becoming a governess.

I would rather not have anything left to me

if I must earn it by enduring my uncle's cough and his ugly relations.

Now, Rosy, neither you nor Fred can afford to be so proud.

Uncle Featherstone is fond of you,

but he'll leave you nothing unless you show yourselves agreeable.

Those horrid relations of his are camped out in that parlor

night and day like carrion crows.

The least you could do is go and sit with him an hour, Rosy.

- He's not long for this world. - Very well, mama.

I'll go with Fred this morning - just to please you.

I'll even sing "Ye Banks and Braes"

for the 137,000th time if my uncle requests me to.

Rosamond: Mama says there's a new doctor tending uncle Featherstone.

Yes, Lydgate. Clever fellow too.

- Fred: Ah ha. I see. - What do you mean by that?

Now I know why we're going to Stone Court.

Fred!

Damn it, I wish I had a halfway decent horse.

There, there. Never mind, Sugar. Come on.

(piano playing)

Ye'll break my heart

ye warbling birds

that warble on a flowery thorn

(coughs)

Ye mind of departed joys

(coughing)

departed never

to return.

Very good, Missy. Just like a little blackbird.

What would she know of departed joys?

No much, I hope. (laughs)

(forced laughter)

Fred Vincy, come here.

Be off with the lot of you. Off with you.

I've got a bone to pick with this boy here.

That's it, sit close. Good boy.

Now then,

a little bird has told me that you've got into debt

with your constant playing at billiards for high stakes.

And this same little bird tells me

that you've been borrowing on your expectations.

You've been telling folk that old Featherstone is

leaving you his land and you've been raising ready cash

on the strength of it, haven't you, sir?

- Indeed, I have not, sir. - Oh?

I hear Bulstrode the banker tells a different tale.

Then he's mistaken, sir. Or he's lying.

- Or your little bird is. - (whispering)

I can alter my will yet, you know.

And I shall, mark my words, unless you contradict the story.

I have contradicted it, uncle Featherstone.

Ah yes, but I want documentation

from Bulstrode the banker saying in black and white

that he hears nothing against you in this respect.

I couldn't go beg Bulstrode for that.

It's not a thing a gentleman should ask.

Suit yourself, young squire.

I've plenty of others I can leave my money to.

Aye, money's a good – (coughing)

Here, Mr. Featherstone.

That's it. Drink up.

You're a good girl, Mary.

You've got a plain face and a sharp tongue

and I daresay you'll never get a husband, but you're a good girl.

- She's the best girl I know. - Oh, is she now?

Did you get those books I sent you, Mary?

- Yes, thank you. - What do you want with more books, Mary?

Because I'm fond of reading, of course. What do you think?

Too fond! You've got the newspaper to read out loud to me every week.

That's enough for any young girl, I would have thought.

I like to read to meself, and I shall too.

You shall not! I can't abide to see her reading to herself.

It's not natural for any young girl.

You mind not to bring her any more books, do you hear?

Yes, sir, I hear.

Ah, my little blackbird.

We haven't heard "Home Sweet Home" yet.

Oh, I'm sure everyone thinks I've sung quite enough.

I'll sing it to you next time I come.

Next time you come? I may be in my coffin next time you come.

(chuckles) Oh, no.

"Home Sweet Home," if you please, and quick about it.

(sighs)

- (whispers continue) - (groans)

(piano playing)

(whispering)

'mid pleasures and palaces

- though we may roam - (Featherstone humming)

- There's no place like home - Be it ever so humble

there's no place like home...

Good morning, sir. Steady there.

Steady.

There's no place like home –

there's no place like home.

Featherstone: Ah, very pretty.

Very nice.

Ah, here he comes at last, the man of the moment.

Dr. Lydgate, this is my niece Miss Rosamond Vincy.

How do you do, Miss Vincy?

I'd heard Miss Vincy was a musician.

I confess, I hadn't expected she would be quite so talented.

The best in Middlemarch, I'll be bound.

Middlemarch is not a very high standard, uncle.

I'm afraid we must be leaving,

I promised mama. Fred?

Where is my whip? Oh –

Thank you.

They say his uncle is a baronet...

with a great estate in Yorkshire.

Yes, there was a Lydgate up at Oxford, spent no end of money.

But rich men may have paupers for cousins, Rosy.

It always makes a difference to be of a good family.

Did Mary say anything... about me?

Yes. She said she thought

you were very unsteady.

And if you asked her to marry you, she'd refuse.

She might have waited 'til I did ask her.

I don't know what you see in her.

I should never have thought she was a girl to fall in love with.

And how would you know what men fall in love with? Girls never know.

Did she really say that?

I always tell the truth.

She's right, I am unsteady.

But I do love her, Rosy.

Oh Lord, now I shall have to talk to father

and get him to butter up uncle Bulstrode.

Hmmm.

Children: Miss Brooke! Miss Brooke!

- Morning, Lucy. - Can I have some of these?

Of course. Will you look after Monk for me, Ben?

- Good morning, Mrs. Barnacle. - Good morning, Miss Brooke.

- How's your husband? - Still bad, Miss Brooke.

- May I come in? - I'm very honored, miss.

(baby crying)

(man coughing)

(man wheezing)

- Try and give him some of that jelly. - Yeah.

That room's so damp.

I have spoken to Mr. Brooke about the roof,

- and I shall remind him again. - Thank you, Miss Brooke.

It's very good of you.

Chettam: Miss Brooke!

I was on my way to see you.

I have a little petitioner for you, if you'll accept him.

What is it?

A little Maltese gentleman.

I'm sorry, but I cannot bear toy breeds.

I should be terrified of treading on it.

My eyesight's rather poor, you know.

Well, well. No matter.

Here, John, take this, will you?

I can't stand the things myself,

but they tell me ladies like them.

- May I walk with you? - Yes, of course.

It's terrible the way we live in ease

while we let our tenants rot in pigsties.

We deserve to be beaten out of our beautiful houses

with a scourge of small cords.

- You think that? - Yes I do.

You have your own opinion about everything, Miss Brooke.

Do you know, I... I envy you that.

Lovegood was telling me you've made a plan for new cottages.

He was full of praise for your ideas.

I'm afraid they will come to nothing.

Uncle won't consent to anything on the estate

that costs him money. It's shameful.

Miss Brooke, I should like to consult your plans, if I may.

You see, I am determined to build new cottages at Freshitt.

How very good of you, Sir James.

Nothing would please me more.

How wonderful it would be

if we could set a pattern about here.

Mr. Brooke: Sir James Chettam is setting a bad example

to his neighbors in my view –

these cottages he proposes – it's folly and madness.

Well of course, he's a rich man.

And I daresay he can afford to pay for his follies,

but he should think of the consequences

to others, you know.

We shall all end up out of pocket, I make no doubt.

Well, so be it.

I shall go over to Lowick today.

I thought I might ask Casaubon to dine with us again.

- Would that be agreeable? - Oh no.

Hmmm? Well, perhaps not.

Yes, yes, carry on.

- Carry on! - Dorothea: Uncle, I hope you'll invite Mr. Casaubon

- as often as he is willing to come. - Oh Dodo!

At least with Mr. Casaubon one can be sure of an intelligent conversation.

You don't like Sir James? He seems determined to do anything you wish.

Sir James is a good creature.

More sensible than anyone would imagine.

I suppose you know he's in love with you.

Celia.

Anyone with eyes can see that he's very much in love with you.

- And that he thinks you return his affection. - How could he think that?

I've never agreed with him about anything but the cottages.

I thought it right to tell you because you went on

as you always do – never looking about you,

never seeing what is quite plain to everybody else.

I must have no more to do with the cottages.

I know it's your favorite fad to draw plans.

Favorite fad, Celia?

Do you think I only care about

my fellow creatures' houses in that childish way?

How can one do anything nobly Christian,

living among people with such petty thoughts?

(door slams)

I can't hold it – I can't be expected.

Continue to tepid sponge him, like this.

(groaning)

- He's holding his own. - Is it the cholera, sir?

It's an acute fever, but it isn't cholera.

I can assure you of that.

- Your children are all well? - Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

Man: You see? It's broke again.

(moaning)

I wish I could make him more comfortable.

The new hospital will be open soon,

then we'll be able to treat fevers of all kinds

better than anywhere else in the country.

(mumbling)

Your man will be himself again long before then.

- That's my opinion. - Thank you, sir.

There, there. All right.

(dogs barking)

(knocks)

Good morning, doctor.

You asked to see me.

Ah, yes, yes. I did.

I was wondering whether you had come

to a conclusion as to the chaplaincy in the new hospital.

(scoffs) Is that all?

Dr. Lydgate, this is a matter of supreme importance to me,

that the spiritual care of the patients

be entrusted to a man worthy of the charge.

Do you intend to support me and vote for Mr. Tyke?

I don't know Mr. Tyke. I'm sure he's a very worthy man

if you say so, but so is Farebrother.

And he's done his duties unpaid for long enough.

Look, I'm a medical man, Mr. Bulstrode,

I have no opinion on these matters.

Then I earnestly advise you to form one, doctor.

A great deal may depend on it.

What news have you brought, uncle?

News? News about what?

About the sheep stealer. Were you not at the assizes?

Ah yes. Poor John Bunch.

It seems that we can't let him off.

He's to be hanged.

- Uncle – - There's nothing to be done about it.

Let's go inside. There's a sharp air. Driving –

I feel it, you know, a very sharp air.

I came back by Lowick, you know?

Talked with Casaubon,

saw his library, that kind of thing.

It seems he greatly enjoyed his visits here over the last few weeks.

Yes...

Yes, uncle? - Well...

he seems to have a high opinion of you, my dear.

A very high opinion, indeed.

The fact is he asked my permission

to pay his addresses to you.

I told him you were very young and so forth.

I felt I had to tell him there was very little chance,

but there you are, in the end I had to promise the poor fellow

that I would speak with you so...there, you have it.

I am very grateful to Mr. Casaubon.

If he makes me an offer, I shall accept him.

That's very well, Dorothea.

But Chettam, have you not thought of him?

He is a very good match.

Our lands lie together,

and I believe, my dear, that Chettam, too, wishes to marry you.

- I mention it, you see, there. - It's impossible that I should ever marry Sir James Chettam.

If he thinks of marrying me, he's made a great mistake.

I should have thought Chettam was just the man a woman would like.

Please do not mention him in that light again.

Casaubon, now...

Well, he's a...

a good match in some ways.

He's a clever man, a scholar.

I never got anything out of him, any ideas.

However he's a tip-top man, may be bishop.

But you know he's over five and forty,

and his health's not strong.

Marriage can be a noose, my dear.

And you're fond of your own opinions,

but a man likes to be master, you know.

I only mention these things to you.

Uncle, I don't want a husband of my own age.

He should be above me – in judgment,

in experience, knowledge.

And I know I must expect trials.

I've never thought of marriage as mere personal ease.

Uncle, I admire and honor Mr. Casaubon

more than any man I ever saw.

Well, my dear, that being so...

I have a letter for you from Mr. Casaubon, here in my pocket.

Yes, here it is.

Casaubon's voice: "My dear Miss Brooke,

"I have your guardian's permission to address you

"on a subject than which I have none more at heart.

"From the first hours of our acquaintance,

"I discerned in you a rare combination of elements,

"uniquely compatible with my own needs -

"elevation of thought and capability of devotion

"allied to graces of sex beyond all my hopes.

"Had I not made your acquaintance,

"I might well have gone to the last

"without any attempt to lighten my solitariness

"by a matrimonial union.

"To be accepted by you as your husband,

"my dear Miss Brooke, I should regard

"as the highest of providential gifts.

"In return, I can at least offer you an affection

"hitherto unwasted."

Uncle tells me Mr. Casaubon has been asked to dine again.

I hope there's someone else there,

and I shan't have to hear him eating his soup.

What's so remarkable about his soup eating?

Really, Dodo, can't you hear how he scrapes his spoon?

Celia, please don't make any more observations of that kind.

Why not? They're quite true.

Many things are true which only the commonest minds observe.

I think the commonest minds must be rather useful.

I wish Mr. Casaubon's mother had a commoner mind.

- She might have taught him better. - Celia, please!

It is right to tell you, Celia,

that I am engaged to marry Mr. Casaubon.

Oh Dodo.

I hope you will be happy.

I beg your pardon if I said anything to hurt you.

Oh never mind, Kitty, don't grieve.

We should never admire the same people.

(piano playing, laughter)

Enjoy the cards. Be well.

Man: This is the first time Dr. Lydgate

- has been to a party, isn't it? - Yes, it is.

I daresay, you're used to far grander parties than this, Dr. Lydgate.

We like to believe our little gatherings are just as jolly.

- Man: You can't be serious about Tyke?! - Oh, thank you.

No, not for me. His sermons are

nothing but evangelical doctrine.

Eh, Lydgate?

None of that cant from Farebrother.

He'll sit down to a game of whist with anyone.

Take all your money if you're not quick sharp.

- How will you vote, Mr. Vincy? - Not on the board anymore, Chichely,

and glad of it. Whichever way I cast my vote,

I'd be offending someone.

What do you think, Dr. Lydgate?

I know very little of the case.

But I don't think these appointments

should be made on the basis of personal liking.

You want to get real reform, sometimes the only way

is to pension off all those good fellows everyone's so fond of.

Ah, hang your reforms. There's no greater humbug in the world.

What's wrong with good fellows?

There's not enough of them about, I'd say.

Mr. Farebrother, you've done it again.

Will you look at that? Farebrother's won again.

- Indeed he has, every time. - How much do I owe you, Fred?

Five pennies please, Mrs. Plymdale.

You'll have me in the workhouse.

Lydgate?

I thought you might be avoiding me –

having decided to vote against me.

I haven't yet decided on my vote.

In any case, I should never cut you.

Sometimes I feel I shall starve in this town

for want of intelligent conversation.

(chuckles)

Still, first things first.

Here's the serious business of the evening.

Come and sit down to a game of whist.

- Oh Dr. Lydgate, please do. - Thank you, no.

No?! Ah, you're not the serious man I took you for.

You're too young and light for this sort of thing.

Now, what's trumps?

(guests laughing)

- Dr. Lydgate. - Miss Vincy.

I feel you must find us awfully dull in Middlemarch.

When I think of how we must seem when looked at through your eyes,

I think we must seem very stupid.

You have lived in Paris.

I've only been once to London.

Just a raw country girl, you see.

You call yourself a raw country girl?

Oh, well I pass at Middlemarch,

but I'm really afraid of you.

I've made up my mind to take Middlemarch as it comes.

I'm sure you have nothing to fear.

I've certainly found some charms in Middlemarch

which are much greater than I expected.

You mean the rides towards Tipton and Lowick?

Everyone is pleased with those.

No, I mean something much nearer to me, Miss Vincy.

(sighs)

- (loud laughter) - Oh Mr. Farebrother –

(loud bantering)

You thief! You've ruined me! Ned, we're finished!

I'm going to sell the house!

(owl hoots)

(voices overlapping)

Bulstrode: Farebrother is a man deeply painful to contemplate...

he lacks spirituality.

He brings his calling into disrepute.

...a great deal may depend on it.

Man: I go for Farebrother.

Put 40 pounds in his pockets and you'll do no harm.

- (men agree) - He's a good fellow!

Without too much of the parson about him.

(agreeing)

Man: For he spends half his days in the Green Dragon Inn,

playing billiards for money.

Mr. Tyke is a real gospel preacher.

I shall vote against my conscience if I voted against Mr. Tyke.

Vote against Bulstrode, I suppose you mean.

It's all the same to you, I daresay.

I beg your pardon, sir!

Brooke: Good afternoon to you. Am I the last?

Wrench: No, Mr. Brooke. Our chairman Mr. Bulstrode

- hasn't arrived yet. - Ah.

Chichely: Nor his protégé, the uniquely talented Dr. Lydgate.

It's damnable that one man should have

this town in his pockets

just because half the town owes him money.

- Brooke: Ah, here we are. - Good day, gentlemen.

All: Good day to you.

Oh, I see we're not all yet assembled.

Nevertheless,

we meet today, gentlemen,

as directors of the board of the hospital

to appoint a chaplain.

The issue is between Mr. Farebrother and Mr. Tyke.

I believe the qualities of each candidate

are well enough known to us all by this time,

but if anyone wishes to speak...

Ah yes, well, Farebrother and Tyke.

Now, both excellent men in their way.

And a chaplain with a salary...

I'm convinced by my friends

that Mr. Tyke is everything he should be.

- How's that? - Apostolic and so forth.

I'm sure we're all very happy

to come here and vote for him.

Seems to me you've been crammed, Mr. Brooke, sir!

- What? - What about Farebrother?

- Indeed, sir. - He has been doing the work without pay.

And if pay is to be given, it should be given to him.

I call it a confounded job

to take the thing away from him.

- Absolutely! - Hear, hear!

- Yes, well, Farebrother – yes – - Bulstrode: Excuse me.

Mr. Hawley,

Mr. Brooke has been fully informed of Mr. Farebrother's character.

Yes. By his enemies.

I take it there's no personal hostility concerned here.

I'll swear there damn well is, though.

Gentlemen, perhaps we should put the matter to the vote now.

If you would write the name of your chosen candidate

on the slip provided, gentlemen...

Brooke: Ah here's our man.

Apologies, gentlemen.

How are you?

Well, gentlemen, I perceive the votes

are equally divided at present.

Dr. Lydgate, would you write down your vote, please?

Well that's settled it.

Damned scandalous business.

You seem to speak with some peculiar meaning, sir.

I expect you to vote with Mr. Bulstrode, that's all, sir.

Do you regard that as offensive, sir?

Maybe offensive to others,

but I shall not desist from voting with him on that account!

(sighs)

Ah, gentlemen, Mr. Tyke is hereby elected

to the post of chaplain. Thank you all very much.

Brooke: Well, there you are.