Original subtitles

(Jaunty fiddle music)

(Whooping)

(Music stops)

Evening.

- Salute your new grave-digger! - Would that not be grave-robber?

(Chuckles) Speak no ill 0' the livin'. 'Specially afore their own flesh 'n blood.

Yes, sur, daughter of 'im. Though I hope I take not after 'im!

THOLLY: Chance'd be a fine thing!

- Do 'ee not dance? - The Lord do consider it sinful.

Oh, well, the Lord do sound a proper spoilsport! (Chuckles)

- What's the occasion? - First harvest 0' the land gifted by Cap'n Ross.

Givin' away yer own acreage? Are 'ee mad?

If so, 'tis a madness sent by the Lord in whom we trust.

(Groans)

Trust Ross. You'll get a better return.

True.

(Laughter)

Whoo!

(Locks door)

(Keys jangle)

We must stiffen security at all our grain stores.

These types would have no compunction about feeding their faces at my expense.

Sir Francis!

Ah. I assume you've heard the news?

My elevation to the rank of Burgess.

I assume you've not heard the news. Sir Piers Arthur is dead.

Most distressing.

And the best news I've had all year.

Enough, wife. You must know the book of prayer by heart now!

Is it not my duty to set an example to your daughters?

You have a duty to your husband, which at present is more pressing.

Go and join your sister.

I wish Drake and Sam would find contentment.

Have you found it?

In this moment, I have.

I wish it may last.

100 years old next week!

You call this Flemish lace? I look like a desiccated bat! Mind that pin!

- I don't wish to be bled like a stuck pig! - Sorry, ma'am.

Add these names to the list: George Venables,

Laurence Trevemper,

Randolph Pentire.

They're dead, Aunt. Remember?

Let me see. Who's coming, then?

Trevaunance? Bodrugan?

Poldarks. That's better! People I actually like!

I will not have that man in my house.

In fairness, it's Agatha's house too.

Surely, on her 100th birthday, we can grant her this one small request?

By hosting a frivolous event which delivers to us no personal benefit?

What benefit should we seek?

AUNT AGATHA: I want a new jet choker!

At least the Penvenen wedding will provide opportunity.

For what?

For me to further my acquaintance with Lord Falmouth.

Sir Piers Arthur is dead.

Truro lacks an MP.

And the man who instructs the burgesses to vote for his candidate of choice?

Lord Falmouth.

(Squawking)

(They chuckle)

(Dialogue indistinct)

- I fear Drake still hankers for Morvvenna. - I rue the day she ever crossed his path.

For giving George the chance to injure you through them?

And to think I attempted to negotiate with him!

Well, those days are over. No more "playing the game“, no more seeking terms.

As for Drake, I've been making enquiries.

And?

The old smith died last month. It has a cottage, a stable...

...and some land besides.

And you have some skill in smithying, you're a quick learner.

And not a farthin' to my name.

It's yours.

Already purchased.

No, brother, it is too much.

I like indebtedness no more than you.

You saved my life in France.

The obligation is now discharged.

It's so quiet here without Geoffrey Charles.

(Valentine cries)

- Happily, Valentine makes up for his absence. - Not happily, so it seems.

I'm not at all convinced by Dr Choake's treatment.

Darkened rooms, legs in splints, odious tinctures which make him vomit.

I confess, his recovery is taking longer than was promised.

You should dispense with Choake altogether.

And do what?

Elizabeth Warleggan requests me to attend on her son.

Will you?

Since I cannot yet return to sea, I can at least make myself useful on land.

I know what I'd advise. Get rid of the splints and the swaddling

and put him out in the fresh air.

- Dr Enys does not subscribe to old wives' tales. - In this case he does.

Splints and swaddling have no efficacy, and rickets is exacerbated by lack of light.

Give him plenty of fresh fruit, vegetables, mother's milk and sunlight.

- You will see an improvement within days. - So no tinctures, powders?

Dr Choake prescribed...

Dr Choake's prescriptions often serve his purse rather than his patients.

So my son will not be deformed?

Follow my instructions and you have every reason to be hopeful.

So, your dire predictions were unfounded.

He was born under a black moon.

He may avoid rickets but he cannot escape his parentage.

I should know, I've been on this earth for nigh on a century.

So, husband dear, shall we depart for our wedding?

You've been petitioning the Admiralty again?

No. Why would I?

I'm considered unfit to resume my duties, as yet.

For your sake, I'm sorry.

Don't be.

I dare say I can bear to convalesce here a while longer.

May I escort you to church, Miss Penvenen?

Finally we may end our pretence of courtship.

Pray do, Dr Enys.

I think, wife, before the reception, I shall avail myself.

No, I beg you. I'm not recovered from last night.

Don't make me strike you! So help me, I will!

In the words of St Paul,

"Wives, submit yourselves unto your husbands as unto the Lord."

- Gentlemen. - Good day to you.

ANNOUNCER: And Lieutenant Rosewall.

ANNOUNCER: Captain Poldark and Mistress Poldark.

Dwight Enys. I never thought I'd see the day.

ANNOUNCER: Mr and Mrs Charles Tragoine.

(indistinct chatter)

(Laughter)

She do bless you daily for bringin' him home.

ANNOUNCER: The Reverend Osbourne Whitworth and Mrs Whitworth.

(Low conversation)

Morvvenna looks pale.

- Doubtless the brat is making her nauseous. - Or possibly her husband.

ANNOUNCER: Lord Falmouth and Mrs Gower.

- Congratulations, my dear. - Thank you.

To wield such power. And my conduit to Parliament.

Come, my dear, let us not pretend we would not enjoy like status.

ANNOUNCER: Mr and Mrs Lilycoat.

My Lord Falmouth.

My lords, ladies and gentlemen. Forgive me.

I promise to be brief in my words but profuse in my thanks.

To Caroline, for making me the happiest of men.

To all of you, for joining our festivities.

But above all, to one man

to whom it is entirely due that Caroline and I stand here today as man and wife.

May I ask you to raise your glasses to the noblest, bravest man I've ever known.

- Captain Ross Poldark! - Captain Ross Poldark!

If you'll permit me? Just a few words.

Saving your blushes, Captain Poldark,

but I too must express gratitude to the Hero of Quimper.

For saving my nephew, Lieutenant Hugh Armitage.

I second that.

- The Hero of Quimper! - The Hero of Quimper!

(Music starts)

My Lord, may I present my wife, Demelza?

Your husband is a reluctant hero, ma'am.

Yet he cannot avoid the fame attaching to his exploits.

I hope it will not go to his head and induce him to embark on another.

It is a novelty to find a wife so eager to keep her husband at home.

But England may yet have need of him.

Then, sir, I believe neither of us will be lacking.

You must come and visit us sometime.

Thank you.

You see what I'm up against?

The man is a braggart, his wife is a trull.

This whole event is a waste of time.

You're no admirer of Lord Falmouth?

What man of principle could be? Not content with running half of Cornwall,

he must also be Lord of Truro.

How can it be that the corporation is treated as a rich man's chattel?

- Does it not make you all a laughing stock? - It does.

Hence the growing discontent among the burgesses.

And yet my experience in France has taught me that discontent alone is no solution.

Unless a worthy alternative is offered.

- A worthy politician? - Is there such a thing?

SIR FRANCIS: Change will not be easy, particularly while Falmouth holds sway,

nor its advocates popular.

- But you believe the right candidate exists? - I've made it my mission to find him.

(Music plays)

You not dancing, sir? Or do your prefer observing?

I used to. But since I was in France, my eyesight has declined.

- But it will mend? - So Dr Enys assures me.

- But where is Captain Poldark? - Oh, he's hiding so he may avoid dancing.

- With you as a partner? Is he mad? - I've often thought so.

Do I hear that you have been gifting land to out-of-work miners?

I recommend it, sir. Much good can be done with even the smallest effort.

My own exertions have been directed towards a higher goal.

- Overturning our old, corrupt political system. - To what end?

So that justice and equity may filter down to those in most need.

I applaud your intentions, sir.

Without holding out much hope of their success.

He's not sure which one.

Morwenna.

How are you?

When do you expect?

I do not know.

Mama never spoke of such things.

I did not know what to expect,

what the...obligations of marriage would be.

Is he unkind to you?

He is a monster.

Aha! You've escaped.

Excellent. Can we go home?

- You noticed how Falmouth avoided me? - Did he?

Nothing I do seems to gratify him.

I've tried invitations, compliments, small gifts.

Yes. I do wonder if it's wise to be seen trying so hard.

How else will he even notice me?

Am I so beneath him?

Yet the Bassets pass muster, and their wealth comes from mining and banking.

And is longer standing, so society has grown used to them.

Well, that may now be the better route.

Basset.

The Truro seat is vacant. Lord Falmouth has always dictated appointments

by exerting pressure on the burgesses to vote his way.

Sir Francis believes such corruption must be stopped.

He intends to spearhead a campaign of reform

and put up his own candidate to challenge Falmouth's.

- And that candidate would be? - We'll see.

We really will be off to hell in a handcart if George Warleggan goes to parliament.

If a handcart is your preferred mode of transport, it can swiftly be arranged.

(He grunts)

I was disappointed in Killewarren. No chintz, no gilding.

But the scale of the establishment puts our humble household to shame.

I think you should have a companion

to share the chores and assist you with the children.

I shall write to your sister.

Your mother will be glad to have another daughter off her hands.

And doubtless that sister will come to love me as you do.

Good night.

I don't love you.

(He murmurs)

(He grunts)

I love Drake Carne.

(He snores)

I love Drake Carne.

I love Drake Carne.

(Tearfully) I love Drake Came.

I love Drake Carne.

Shall we pretend this is our wedding night?

No pretence needed.

Every night is our wedding night to me.

- Lieutenant Armitage was most attentive today. - To whom?

Your wife. Perhaps overly attentive.

- Did you not notice? - I confess I did not.

- Perhaps I imagined it. - Quite possibly.

Not every man in Cornwall is besotted with you.

(Hammer clanging)

See, brother?

'Ee need fret no longer,

for I've goodly work to keep me fed an' clothed.

It isn't the body I fret for, but the soul.

For I think 'ee still pine for the girl who be lost to 'ee.

Yet the time may come when 'ee seek elsewhere

for a wife 0' the Methodist connection, sweet an' pure...

Wheelwright Came, a job for 'ee.

Missin' a crook on the end. Can 'ee fettle it?

It looks simple enough. Will 'ee come back tomorrow?

If I've naught better to do.

Sister, how's your soul?

Are 'ee a stranger to divine things?

No, lug. I get my fill of 'em daily!

Will 'ee not join our meetings, where...

we read the gospel an' open our hearts to each other?

(Laughs) Cook's life!

Tell yer fables to them who be simple as babies.

(She laughs)

Be that the kind of maid 'ee 'ad in mind?

G'day sister.

What brings 'ee 'ere?

News of Morwenna.

Good news?

She's with child.

I can only pray the child will be a comfort to her.

In my heart I know I must now let her go.

Yes, brother, you must.

GEORGE: Search the attics, cellars, all storerooms and cupboards.

The item was packed away when I first took up residence here.

It belongs to old mistress Agatha.

- Find it. - Yes, sur.

- I think he's already showing an improvement. - No doubt your aunt will claim the credit.

- But it matters not, as long as he is improved. - (She chuckles)

(Valentine gurgles)

(Makes baby sounds)

(Snorting and quacking)

Did Dwight mention he'd been called to Trenwith?

No. Why would he?

The child has rickets. Valentine.

'Tis said he may end up lame.

Surely that's no concern of ours?

No, Ross.

I'm away to see Pascoe. I'll be back before supper.

Yes, Ross.

...English language...never anything like it.

(Vendors advertise their wares)

Ah.

As requested, I've had prepared the deed of gift for your land.

You should be aware of some news which has just reached me.

The Warleggans and the Bassets have formed an "accommodation".

- A merger? - Not exactly.

But an arrangement with each other's banks whereby they will work together.

I suspect this scheme has less to do with business ambition than political.

- Mr Pascoe. - Sir Francis!

Captain Poldark,

you vanished from the wedding before I had chance to invite you and your wife to dinner.

- We seldom stir abroad, sir. - Then I hope you will make this the exception.

Shall we say Saturday?

Your wife will be gratified. I believe she enjoys high society these days.

She has no spurious fame to contend with.

Whereas I am only too aware it's the sole reason for my sudden popularity.

Take her. What harm could it do?

- I've missed you, sister. - Rowella!

You're not well.

- (Ossie shouts nearby) - Yes. Quite well.

I've no complaint.

OSSIE: I should think not.

- Your sister is most blessed amongst women. - Yes, Osbourne.

In private, you may call me Mr Whitworth.

In public, you will address me as Vicar.

Yes, Vicar.

(Birdsong)

The blessed Virgin an' the Holy Child?

Oh, brother, it do gladden the heart to see 'ee turn to God again.

Yes, brother.

I believe this be the item in question.

Yes. (Chuckles)

You seem excited. ls there good news?

There is.

And soon, I hope, there will be better.

Am I permitted to know?

Let us say that if my visit to Tehidy goes well...

Tehidy? Did Sir Francis invite?

He did not, but I know him to be at home today

and we are now on such terms as to render formal invitations unnecessary.

(He chuckles)

Madam.

The key is to strike while the iron's hot. The door is ajar.

Sir Francis is open to persuasion. All he requires is a little push.

Take a week, Georgie. I shan't be upset if you miss my party.

Thanks for the reminder, ma'am. We will discuss that very subject when I return.

(Scoffs)

I can think of 100 more useful things I could be doing.

For shame, Ross, you're becoming a misanthrope.

I sympathise. I'm no lover of company these days.

- With the exception of my wife's. - Sometimes Ross do make no exception!

- Well, if I have my way... DEMELZA: Which you frequently do.

...this will be our last excursion for the foreseeable future.

Why, sister, would you agree to marry that man?

To save the life of the man I loved.

And still love?

Till my dying breath.

Tell me of him. Tell me everything.

Now, we have an unexpected addition to our party.

He got wind of your invitation and insisted on joining us.

Who can guess at his motives?

His uncle and I cannot abide each other. Our ways of doing business are wholly at odds.

But I have a certain fondness for the nephew.

So I trust you'll forgive me for inflicting him upon you.

Armitage!

- Are we never to be rid of you? - You'll be sorry you ever saved me.

I regret the venture daily.

I'm sure Dwight does. Now he's my prisoner instead of the Republic's.

And from that there can be no release.

If you knew the pains I took to get myself invited today.

- Why did you so? - Can you not guess?

(indistinct chatter)

CAROLINE: Then you are very much in the minority, my Lord.

The young general who crushed the counter-revolution in Paris,

I believe we'll be hearing a good deal of him in future.

Bonaparte? He's now in charge of the French Army in Italy.

Cleared the streets of Paris with cannon.

- Fired on his own countrymen. - Such a man is to be reckoned with.

And their Directory of Five who deposed the other bloody tyrants?

They're criminals, in every sense of the word.

My Uncle Falmouth would be relieved to hear you say so.

He speculated that in dining with so prominent a Whig,

I'd hear talk of peace and views favourable to the Revolution.

Then your uncle should know better. The true Whig is as patriotic as any Tory in the land.

What form might Lord Falmouth's plans for Truro take? Who will be the next MP?

You, perhaps?

I'm not sufficiently biddable. Too much of a rebel.

I would have thought that made you the ideal candidate, if revolution is your aim.

Which it is not. I know my limitations.

At sea I'm a passable navigator, on land an average poet and an indifferent artist.

You've been sketching? May we see?

By no means. I've failed miserably to do justice to my subject.

(indistinct chatter)

Mr Warleggan is here to see you, sir.

Advise him I am engaged and may be some time.

I have taken the liberty of providing some small entertainments.

Shall we adjourn?

(Laughter)

(He chuckles)

I shall await his pleasure here.

Good luck.

(Skittles clattering)

SIR FRANCIS: Your turn, I think.

So navigation, I think you said, at sea?

At sea. Yes.

Which is where I presently find myself.

Wholly disorientated.

Shipwrecked.

Lost.

It must seem strange to return to the comfort and safety of home after the horrors of prison.

I know Dwight also struggled.

My struggles are of a different kind.

SIR FRANCIS: Bravo!

So different that I dare not even name them.

- (Cheering) MAN: Very good, sir.

- And you will not ask me to. - 'Tis hardly my business.

I wish that were true.

Blooms from the Garden of Eden.

But where lurks Eve?

And where the snake?

(Cheering and scattered applause)

(Door opens)

(Door closes)

I've taken note of your suggestion. Gifting land to the deserving poor.

And the undeserving poor?

Let us begin by helping those who help themselves.

When do we begin?

- Do you believe in equality? - I believe in opportunity.

I believe that industry should be rewarded and the misuse of power punished.

We appear to be of one mind.

WOMAN: Since when do I take instruction from you?

- Shall you return to the navy? - Once my eyes have mended.

The fault is entirely my own, for scribbling away in semi-darkness.

- Letters home? - Sketches.

Attempts at verse.

It was all that kept me sane.

- You were sketching today. - May I show you?

I'm no Leonardo...

...but you are surely Mona Lisa.

- I do not know these people. - Forgive me. My attempt at a compliment.

Perhaps I should stick to verse.

Especially with such inspiration before me.

No one's ever written me poetry before.

- Not even your husband? - (Scoffs)

Ross has been called many things, but "poetic" is not one of them.

May I see you again?

And Ross too, of course.

I will ask him when would be convenient.

Let us suppose that the burgesses are sick of being forced

to cast their votes at Falmouth's command.

ROSS: Should we also suppose they're sick of the favours they enjoy,

the business that comes their way in exchange for those votes?

In the coming Truro by-election, many have indicated their willingness to defy Falmouth.

And instead of voting for his candidate, vote for yours?

We both agree change is long overdue. With the right man in place...

The "right man"?

I believe you are the man to lead this revolution.

If elected, you will serve our borough in parliament.

And I'd be expected to vote as you directed?

Since you and I think along similar lines, it could surely be no hardship to vote likewise?

Truly, I believe that if you and I walked into a room,

all the men would look at me, but within five minutes they'd all be clustered around you.

I'm not sure that's a compliment.

It is. But not one I think Ross would appreciate.

(Skittles clatter)

If he even noticed.

(Skittles clatter)

(Horse whinnies)

Back already, Georgie?

I told you we could manage without ye.

Remind me, what is your age, ma'am?

You know fine well I shall be 100 years old on Monday.

When I was last at Sawle church, I had occasion to glance at the parish register.

I could find no record of your baptism in 1695.

Of course, I was not content to leave it there,

for baptisms do not always instantly follow births.

So yesterday, I had the servants comb the house

- until they found the old Poldark family bible. - (Thud)

And? What of it?

Let me read you an entry.

The ink is faded but I suppose it to be your father's handwriting.

"Born to us this autumn morn, our first child, a daughter,

Agatha Mary.

September 14th, 1697."

So you see, old crone,

on Monday you will be but 98.

'Tis a lie. A scabby lie!

(Chuckles)

My dear? How went the visit to Tehidy?

We will discuss it another time.

Well?

I regret I must decline.

Your reason?

I cannot be another man's puppet.

Not even one I admire.

Or whose views are so similar to my own.

You cannot ignore the way the world works.

If you dislike the system, change it from within.

- There is sense in what you say. - But?

But the noble impulse which impels a man to enter politics

often falls by the wayside.

Power is pursued for its own sake, rather than the good it can do.

Who am I to claim exemption from these failings?

Will you not even try?

I cannot believe I would emerge from this process with my soul intact.

(Scoffs) Your soul?

Your stubbornness.

It will be your undoing, Poldark.

(Crunches)

(Winces)

This shoe does pinch my toes.

(Door opens and closes)

See how easy it is to be rid of him?

Sshh! Do not jest about it.

He is my husband,

till death do us part.

Amen, sister.

I think it was a mistake to refuse Sir Francis.

I never knew you had ambitions to be a political wife.

Nor do I!

But you, your influence is great. There's much good you could do.

- And is not Sir Francis a goodly man? - Yes!

But he too uses his power for his own ends.

And he would use me, if I would let him.

(Signs)

(Birds squawk)

But I will not.

(Tinkles)

(Panting)

(Knocking on door)

Come in, Lucy Pipe, idle girl! Where's my supper?

(Door opens creakily)

There will be no supper, old woman.

(Door creaks shut)

There will be no party.

I'll have letters sent to all your guests, informing them that you made a mistake,

that you are 97, not 99,

and a new invitation will be issued in two years' time.

If you're still above ground then.

But...

...'tis all prepared.

Food ordered, my old topaz ring altered to fit.

Pity.

My birthday's on Monday, 98's a good age.

I've been looking forward to this party for so long.

No one need know I'm not 100.

(Chuckles)

I'll not live two year more, you know that.

Who'd guess if ye said naught?

I'll not cross ye again, George.

Let me have my party.

There...will...be...no...party.

Wait!

You do this to me, may you rot in hell!

You and your nasty uncle and your little twisted son!

Born under a black moon and warped already?

Little Valentine, the so-called Warleggan heir.

Or is he?

That was no eight-month baby, George.

Early babes be weak and wrinkled, no hair, no nails.

But that babe was lusty and smooth

and strong as a full-term child!

(Gasps) So maybe you didn't wait for the wedding.

Or maybe somebody got there before ye!

(Breathes heavily)

(Panting)

George?

Are you unwell?

That old woman...

...will have no party.

What do you mean? Has she given orders to defer it?

Sir Francis Basset's here, sir.

What the devil can he want?

(Inhales deeply)

(Door closes)

(Door opens)

You called to see me today.

I did, sir.

But you were otherwise engaged.

And now Hear the moment has passed.

Not necessarily.

Was there something you wanted to discuss?

Change.

Yes?

That is what you seek, but it's not easy to achieve.

- Nor its advocates popular. - Go on.

The right man would not need to be popular. He would only need to be capable.

Of achieving the task in hand,

by whatever means necessary.

(Murmurs) My party.

My birth... My birthday.

(Mutters incoherently)

- Aunt, what has happened? - My party.

My party My party.

George won't allow my party.

Be calm, dearest aunt.

Tormented me, he did.

Took my hope, took my home.

Do not exert yourself.

Yet I... I should not have said what I did.

Elizabeth...will never forgive me.

Forgive you?

I should not have told him.

Told him what?

Aunt?

Told him what?

Aunt?

Told him what? (Gasps)

(Valentine cries nearby)

- (Exhales) - (Valentine cries)

Well, ma'am, I hope we can count on your support in our newest venture.

A candidate to challenge Lord Falmouth in the coming by-election has been found.

Is this true?

It is a fine thing for young Valentine to have an MP as a father.

Indeed.

Forgive me.

My great aunt is dead.

My sincere condolences. I will detain you no longer.

I trust, when you have grieved for the departed, that there will be time for celebration.

(Door opens and closes)

(Waves crash)

SAM: Nice to see you, sister. Welcome.

'Ee be like unto the Lost Sheep, brother, thy thoughts all pure again.

My thoughts are not pure, brother.

Mine neither. God forgive me.

(Sighs deeply)

♪ Every button cost a crown

♪ Harvey Darvey, turn around

♪ Heel to heel and toe to toe

♪ Turn around and off we go

Sir Francis is right. You are stubborn.

- Pragmatic. - Pig-headed.

Would you prefer naive? Or sentimental?

Sometimes, Ross, yes, I would!

This jus' come from Trenwith.

DEMELZA: What is it?

Aunt Agatha's dead.

Ross!

I should have been there.

Poor ole cooter. To think of 'er on 'er death-bed wi' no Poldark kin to ease 'er departin'.

- (Baby gurgles) - Ssh. Ssh, ssh, ssh. Prudie.

PRUDIE: She be last of the Trenwith Poldarks.

There's still Geoffrey Charles.

Doubtless George'll find a way to part him from his inheritance.

Judas!

There was more to George's note than the news of her death.

Funeral arrangements?

- Not a word. - What, then?

"I hope you and Demelza will rejoice in the news

that I have been selected by Sir Francis Basset

to be the candidate to oppose Lord Falmouth's in the Truro by-election."

- Well, there it is. - Yes, and you could've prevented it.

- No, I couldn't. - Will you never learn?

How long do you think you can do as you please,

plough your own furrow, regardless of anyone else or I?

- Demelza... - Not once have you asked my advice

or harkened to my opinion - not once.

What do you want, Demelza?

A man who will lie down, roll over,

sit up and beg for you?

Well, if so, you've married the wrong man.

'Twould appear so.

Perhaps you should look elsewhere for a pet.

Perhaps I should.

Perhaps I won't have to look too far.

(Thud)

(Grunts)

Is that it?

No family? No ceremony?

'Twas ordered a quick and secret buryin'.

'Tis all I could do to get word to thee.

She was a Poldark.

And my most beloved aunt.

George will pay for this.

Nay, 'tis my task.

She was a great lady...and a rare spirit.

It's the least I can do to honour her.