Brideshead Revisited (1981): Season 1, Episode 3 - The Bleak Light of Day - full transcript

It is so typical of Oxford
to start its new year in the autumn.

I feel positively
one hundred years old.

I was just been given a talking to
by Monsignor Bell this afternoon,

my tutor yesterday,
and the junior dean,

and now I’ve got to face
Mr Samgrass of All Souls.

That will make the fourth in two days.

- Who’s Mr Samgrass of All Souls?
- Oh, just someone of mummy’s.

They all say that I made such a bad
start last year, that I’ve been noticed

and if I do not mend my ways
I shall have to be sent down.

Oh, Charles, what’s happened to us
since last term? I feel so old.

I feel positively middle-aged,
which is infinitely worse.



Well, I’m glad we had this little talk.
Your mother will be so pleased.

Would you care for a glass of sherry?
I think I shall indulge in one myself.

Thank you.

Did your mother tell you
that I am doing a little work for her?

You know it was she who felt
so keenly that we should meet.

She did tell you, didn’t she?

She may have done.
I really can’t remember.

Well, I must go.

She has entrusted me with the compilation
of a memorial work on her brother Ned.

I say work, but, of course,
it gives me immense pleasure.

And what a delight
to work at Brideshead,

quite my favourite house in England.

I’m glad you like it.

- I... have an essay to write.
- Yes, of course.



Well, remember what I’ve said.

I am sure we shall enjoy
our exploration together,

and you’ll know that any success
in the fields of academe

would bring great pleasure
to your mother.

- Yes, thank you. Goodbye.
- Goodbye, Sebastian.

Mr Samgrass and his little talks

were to play an increasingly
large part in our lives.

Sebastian spoke less than the truth when
he described him as “someone of mummy’s”;

he was someone of almost everyone
who possessed something to attract him.

I’m supposed to mend my ways, Charles.

How does one mend one’s ways?

Join the League of Nations Union?
Read “Isis” every week?

Drink coffee every morning
at the Cadena café?

That would be a start.

You could smoke a great pipe
and play hockey

and go for tea on Boar’s Hill.

Yes, and I could go to lectures at Keble.

I could buy one of those little bicycles
with a tray of books on it.

I could drink cocoa every evening
and discuss sex seriously.

Very seriously.

- Anthony Blanche has gone down.
- Has he?

He wrote me a letter.

He said he’s taken a flat in Munich

and started a relationship
with a policeman.

I shall miss him.

Yes, I shall, too, in a way.

Anthony Blanche had taken something
away with him when he went.

He had locked a door
and hung the key on his chain.

All his friends, among whom
he had always been a stranger,

needed him now.

Sebastian and I kept very much
to our own company that term,

each so much
bound up in the other

that we did not need
to look elsewhere for friends.

My cousin Jasper had told me it was
normal to spend one’s second year

shaking off the friends of one’s first,
and it happened as he said.

Most of my friends were those
I had made through Sebastian;

and together we shed them
and made no others.

I kept a tenuous connection
with the History School,

wrote my two essays a week,
and attended an occasional lecture.

Thus, soberly dressed
and happily employed,

I became a fairly respectable
member of my college.

And that is how Lady Marchmain found us

when, early in that Michaelmas term,
she came for a week to Oxford.

Oh, Mr Ryder, a lady’s been here
asking for you, sir.

- She left this message.
- Thank you, Oakes.

I am so pleased
to have found you, Charles.

- I may call you Charles?
- Of course.

I feel I know you so well from Sebastian.

I’ve just had luncheon with him
and Mr Samgrass.

Do you know who I mean?
You may have met.

He’s a very clever
history don at All Souls.

He’s been taking
a great interest in Sebastian.

Yes, I heard.

I hope Sebastian
will appreciate his interest.

I was so sorry to have missed you
when you were at Brideshead.

Everyone loves your paintings
in the Garden Room.

Well, it was very kind of you
to let me stay so long.

I think it was Sebastian who was fortunate
to have you with him all that time.

Is it true, as Mr Samgrass tells me,
that you’re my son’s only friend this term?

Well, some people have gone down.

I suppose perhaps I am.
We do spend a lot of time together.

I’m glad of it.

For I have reason to be
grateful to you, Charles, too.

Friendships like yours
can be such a help.

She accepted me as Sebastian’s friend
and sought to make me hers also,

and in doing so, unwittingly
struck at the roots of our friendship.

That is the single reproach I have
to set against her abundant kindness to me.

One morning, a week or two later,
Julia arrived in Oxford,

driven by a large man whom she introduced
as Mr Mottram and addressed as Rex.

They both joined a small
lunch party in my rooms,

one of the last of the
old kind that I gave.

- How much was it?
- Oh, just a few guineas.

He can’t have been more than thirty
at the time we met him,

but Rex seemed very old to us in Oxford.

He’d arrived from Canada after the war,
had become a Member of Parliament,

a gambler and a good fellow.
Lucky with money.

You must remember, Mr Ryder,
he’s a colonial, aren’t you, darling?

- He’s never been to any sort of university.
- Lucky chap.

Well, it just means you start out life
three years behind the other fellow.

And Rex has never stayed anywhere
for three years, have you, darling?

Mind you, I know quite a lot
about the house from F.E.

He’s told me some very rich stories indeed.

I remember one about
two undergraduates and a goose.

- Old story.
- Rex knows everyone.

Damn, my cigarettes.
Rex?

- Don’t worry, I’ll get them.
- They are in the car.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

Julia treated him, as she seemed
to treat all the world,

with mild disdain,
but with an air of possession.

Look, I’m helping to organise a ghastly
charity ball in London next month.

You two absolutely must come.
Rex is having a dinner party first.

- I don’t see why we should.
- Oh, but you must.

The trouble with Rex is
he doesn’t know anybody young.

His friends are all leathery old sharks
in the City and dreary MP’s.

We’ll see.

Come on, Charles!

Sorry, Lunt’s been playing games
with my cufflinks.

Oh, Boy, you’re not coming, are you?

Yes, aren’t I?
Delighted, dear boy. Delighted.

Well, that’s a surprise.
I suppose I shall have to go in the back.

I suppose you realise
this is going to be one of those

stupefyingly boring balls of the season?

Well, I haven’t been to too many balls
this season, so that’s all right.

- Mottram will lay on a good jag...
- Oh, careful.

Hit it off the Public.

My God, Sebastian, you’re not
going to drive like this

all the way to London, are you?
I shall be sick!

Sebastian and I were to spend
the night at Marchmain House,

so we went there to dress,

and while we dressed,
drank a bottle of champagne.

Oh, God, Julia.
You’re not even changed.

I know, I’m going to be horribly late.

You’d better go on to Rex’s without me.

You’re very tedious.

It’s heavenly of you to come.

We’re all going to be hideously bored.

Well, don’t be too long.

Keep them happy.

I say, where on earth is Julia?

How should I know?

Probably gone to have dinner
somewhere else.

Gosh!

It’s her dance.

But how will she get there without us?

- She’ll be all right.
- Oh, Rex, that absurd Jeroboam.

Why must you have everything so big?

Won’t be too big for us.

Listen, old chaps, let’s chuck this
ghastly dance and go to Ma Mayfield’s.

- Who’s Ma Mayfield?
- You know Ma Mayfield.

Everyone knows Ma Mayfield
of the Old Hundredth.

It’s the best club in town.

I’ve got a regular there –
a sweet little thing named Effie.

There’d be the devil to pay
if she heard I’d been to London

and hadn’t been to see her.
So come and meet Effie at Ma Mayfield’s.

All right, let’s go and see
Effie at Ma Mayfield’s.

Now, we’ll need another bottle of pop
off the good Mottram...

I say...

cut the bloody ball
and go straight to Ma Mayfield’s.

- Look who’s here.
- Ah, at last!

Brenda.

I’m so glad you didn’t let him
hold out dinner up for me.

It’s his Canadian courtesy.

Well, thank God you’re here.
At last we can go.

This is all very well, but are you sure
you know where this place is?

Of course I do, 100 Sink Street.
It’s just off Leicester Square.

- We’ll take the car.
- Aren’t we going to look in at the ball?

Oh, Charles! If you’ve seen one ball,
you’ve seen them all.

- But I want to dance.
- I suppose you can dance at...

- Ma Mayfield’s.
- Not the same sort of dancing.

- You’d better not drive.
- I’ll drive.

Know the way like the back of my hand.

Jump in.

- Ready?
- Yes.

- How do I turn the bloody lights off?
- Ask Hardcastle.

- Good evening.
- You members?

You want to keep out of there,
you’ll be poisoned and given a dose.

You members?

The name is Mulcaster.

Viscount Mulcaster.

Now, look here, my man,
I’m an old friend of the proprietress.

All right, try inside.

You’ll be robbed and poisoned
and infected and robbed!

- You’re not members here, are you, dearie?
- I say, that really is the limit.

I’m extremely well known here.
You ought to know me by now.

Yes, dearie.

Ten bob each.

Absolutely ridiculous. I’ve never
had to pay to get in here before.

You’re lucky, dearie.
We’re full up.

Anyone who comes in after you
is gonna have to pay a quid.

Now, look, I insist.
Let me speak to Mrs Mayfield at once.

You’re speaking, dearie.
I am Mrs Mayfield.

Well, Ma. I really... It’s so dark in here,
I didn’t recognise you in your finery.

Well, you know me, don’t you?

Boy Mulcaster!

That’s all right, duckie.
Just give us your ten bob...

each.

- Is Effie here this evening?
- ’Oo’s Effie?

Effie, you know,
one of the girls who’s always here.

The pretty dark one.

Oh, we’ve got lots of girls working here.

Some of them’s dark, some of them’s fair,
some you might call pretty.

I haven’t got the time to notice.

Thirty bob.

I say, that’s a bit steep.

I’m going to go to and try to find Effie.

- Cigarette?
- Thanks, old man.

Come on, we’re wasting our time.
They’re only fairies.

Look, you fellows,
I’ve found her. This is Effie.

This is Effie.
Lord Sebastian Flyte, Charles Ryder...

- Effie, uh...
- Can you get me some toast?

That’s another six bob.

This is the first bite
I’ve had all evening, you know.

The only decent thing about this place
is the breakfast.

You get fair peckish hanging about.

I seen you here before often, haven’t I?

I’m afraid not.

- Oh, then it must be you I seen before.
- I should rather hope so.

You haven’t forgotten our little
evening in September, have you?

No, darling.

Oh, you was the boy in the Guards
who cut his toe, wasn’t you?

- Now, don’t tease, Effie.
- Oh, Lord...

Oh, I know! You came with Bunty
that night we got raided

- and we all hid behind the dustbins!
- Effie loves pulling my leg.

Yes, well, she’s cross with me for having
stayed away so long. Aren’t you, Effie?

- I know I’ve seen you somewhere before.
- Effie, stop teasing. Please.

I wasn’t meaning to, honest.

- D’you wanna to dance?
- Not just at the moment.

Thank God for that. My shoes are
pinching me something terrible tonight.

- For the lady, sir.
- Thank you very much.

That’s thirty bob.

Thank you, sir.

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

We’re under attack.

Oh, Lord...
Death’s Head and the Sickly Child.

Tell them to go away.

Ladies, dear ladies.

Would you care to dance
with my friend and I?

Well, if you really want to,

we don’t mind, do we?

We thought you was fairies
at first, didn’t we?

Yeah, when you came in,
we both said:

“those two are fairies.”
Didn’t we, Renee?

Well, that’s what we said.
Well, that’s what you look like.

That was because of our extreme youth.

And our extraordinary physical beauty.

I think you’re very sweet, really.

Well, I think you’re very sweet, too.

Hey, how about a little party?
Just the six of us over at my place?

Certainly!

Boy, we’re off to a party.

- Oh.
- Just the six of us.

This very charming young lady
says she’s got somewhere to go.

Ooh, I must go and tell Mrs Mayfield
we’re going out.

Come on, Effie.

It was still early, not long after midnight,
when we regained the street.

The commissionaire tried
to persuade us to take a taxi,

but we piled into Hardcastle’s car

and there lay our mistake.

Here, stop!
Let me out!

I’m sorry if I am impeding
the traffic, officer,

but the young lady
insisted upon my stopping,

so that she could get out.

She would take no denial.

As you will have observed,
she was pressed for time.

- A matter of nerves.
- ’Ere, let me talk to him.

Be a sport, handsome;
no one’s seen anything but you.

The boys don’t mean no harm.

I’ll get them into a taxi
and see them home all right.

Now, look here, my good man,

there’s no need for you
to notice anything.

We’ve all been to Ma Mayfield’s.

I reckon Ma Mayfield pays you a pretty
good retainer to keep your eyes shut.

Well, you can keep them shut on us as well,
and you won’t be the loser by it.

My God, you’ll pay for this!

Do you know who I am?

I am the Viscount Mulcaster!
My father is the ninth Earl!

Open this door!
I insist upon seeing a doctor!

Telephone the Home Secretary!
Send for my solicitor!

Charles, are you there?

Yes, I’m here.

This is a hell of a business.

I tell you, the person to send for
will be Rex Mottram.

He’d be in his element here.

Well, you understand, sir,
we had to do our duty.

- Of course, sergeant.
- This is an outrage!

I demand my legal rights!

- It was for their protection, sir.
- I’m sure you did the right thing, sergeant.

And we decided
to let the young ladies go, sir.

- Cigar?
- Oh!

Thank you very much, sir.

Sergeant, do you think we could keep
this incident between ourselves?

No, sir.

I’m afraid it’s too late for that.
The report’s already gone upstairs

and we’ve taken the young
ladies’ names as witnesses.

I see.

Mottram, I intend to sue
for wrongful arrest. Tell him!

Be a good fellow, Mulcaster.
Leave all the talking to me.

- Is there anything else, sergeant?
- Yes, sir.

If you’d like to complete the formalities
and sign for the sureties.

If you gentlemen would like
to sign for your possessions.

- There, sir, please.
- Thank you, sergeant.

- Thank you, sergeant. Good night.
- Good night, sir.

Thank you, sir.
Just under there, sir, please.

It’d better all be there.

We had all slept that night at Rex’s flat.

In the morning,
the display was impressive.

He summoned a man from
Thrompos to shave us

while his valet collected our clothes
from Marchmain House.

Rex joined us after breakfast.

Good morning, gentlemen.
I trust you’re feeling a little better.

This is Mr Selwyn,
who will be representing you.

Lord Sebastian Flyte.

- How do you do?
- Good morning.

Mr Charles Ryder.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

Lord Mulcaster.

- How do you do?
- Hello.

- Please sit down, Selwyn.
- Thank you.

Sebastian’s in a jam.

He’s liable for anything up
to six month’s imprisonment

for being drunk in charge of a car.

Now, unfortunately,
you’ll come up before Grigg.

He takes a grim view
of cases of this sort.

Now, all that will happen this morning

is that we shall ask to have
Sebastian’s case held over for a week

to prepare his defense.

But you two will plead guilty,
say you’re sorry and pay a five bob fine.

I’ll see what can be done about squaring
things with the evening papers.

Though “The Star” could be difficult.

Now, this is important:

Remember to keep out
all mention of the Old Hundredth.

Now, luckily the tarts were sober
so they’re not being charged,

but they’ve taken their names.

Now, if we try and break down
the police evidence,

they’ll be called
and used as witnesses.

We must avoid that at all costs.
Right, Mulcaster?

Good.

We have to swallow the police story whole

and appeal to the magistrate’s better
nature not to wreck a young man’s career

for the sake of a single
boyish indiscretion.

It’ll all work out all right.

Now, we shall need a don
to give evidence of good character.

Julia tells me you have a tame one
called Samgrass. He’ll do.

Meanwhile, you story is simply

that you came up from Oxford
for a perfectly respectable dance,

were not used to wine,
had too much,

and then lost the way driving home.

Well, let’s take care of this

and then see about fixing things
with your authorities up in Oxford.

Everything happened at Court
as Rex had predicted.

At half past ten that morning, we stood
outside Bow Street Magistrates’ Court.

Mulcaster and I had paid our fines
and were free men.

Sebastian was bound over
to appear in a week’s time.

Five bob is monstrous.
They should have cleared us.

They put themselves totally in the wrong
when they refused to call my solicitor.

I don’t see why they
should get away with it.

- Mulcaster, it’s all over now.
- Anyway, I’m off to the City.

My great uncle’s just snuffed it.
Taxi!

I suppose mummy’s
got to hear about it.

Damn, damn, damn!

It’s cold.

Why don’t we just go back to Oxford
and wait for them to bother us?

Why don’t we telephone Julia?

I think I’ll go abroad.

My dear Sebastian, look,
all you’re going to be

is fined a couple of quid
and given a stiff talking-to.

Yes, but it’s all the bother –

mummy and Bridey
and the family and the dons.

I think I’d rather go to prison.

I mean, if I just slip away abroad,
they can’t do anything about it, can they?

- Can they?
- Yes, they can.

Well, that’s what people do
when they’re being chased by the police.

I know mummy’s going to make it seem

as if she has to bear
the whole brunt of the business.

Look, why don’t we call Julia,

arrange to meet
and talk it over with her?

Well, you are a pair of pickles.

Good morning, Julia.

I must say you look
remarkably well on it.

The only time I got tight
I was paralysed all the next day.

I do think you might have
taken me with you.

The ball was positively lethal and I’ve
always longed to go to the Old Hundredth.

No one will ever take me.

- Is it heaven?
- You know about that, too?

Rex telephoned me this morning
and told me everything.

- What were your girl friends like?
- Now, don’t be prurient.

Well, mine was like a skull.

- Mine was like a consumptive.
- Goodness.

- Does mummy know?
- Not about your skulls and consumptives.

She knows you were in the clink.
I told her.

She was divine about it, of course.

It’s mummy’s being divine about
everything that worries me the most.

I can’t think why you went
and stayed with Mr Mottram.

You might have come
and told me about it first.

Well, there wasn’t really
very much chance, mama.

I am sorry if...

How am I going to explain this
to the family?

They will be so surprised to find that
they’re more shocked about it than I am.

Do you know my sister-in-law,
Fanny Roscommon?

She has always thought
I brought my children up badly.

Now I’m beginning to think
she must be right.

Mr Samgrass...

do you think it any use
my speaking to the chancellor?

Well, Lady Marchmain,
I’ve already spoken to Msgr Bell,

and persuaded him
to call on the dean.

She’s been perfectly charming.
I don’t see what you were so worried about.

I can’t explain.

Mr Samgrass, how long have you known
Lord Sebastian Flyte?

Since he first came up to Oxford.

I am an old friend of the
defendant’s mother, Lady Marchmain.

What impression have you
formed of his character?

I would describe him to you, sir,
as a model student.

My deep regret is that a brilliant
university career may now be at stake.

Is this type of incident
in his character at all, would you say?

I would say it was entirely
out of character.

To my certain knowledge, Lord Sebastian

has always conducted his life at the house
with the most studious application.

The evidence is that the
defendant came up to London

to attend a charitable function,
organised by his sister.

That is correct, sir.
It was a highly respectable affair.

I believe the explanation to be:

Lord Sebastian, sir,
is simply unused to wine.

The law of England is the same
for an Oxford undergraduate

as it is for any young hooligan.

Indeed, the better the home,
the more outrageous the offence.

It is purely by good chance

that you do not bear the responsibility
for a serious accident.

But for Mr Samgrass’s evidence,

I would feel disposed to give you
an exemplary prison sentence.

However, I have accepted
that you are unused to wine.

There will be a fine of ten pounds.

The usher will show you where to pay.

We were both gated
for the rest of the term.

But the most lasting penalty we suffered

was our intimacy with Rex Mottram
and Mr Samgrass.

But since Rex’s life was in London
in a world of politics and high finance

and Mr Samgrass’s nearer
to our own at Oxford,

it was from him we suffered more.

For the rest of that term
he haunted us.

Eleven minutes...
fifteen seconds.

A marked improvement.

If they want to treat us like criminals,

we can behave like criminals.

Good evening, Sebastian.
Ah, Charles.

I don’t think we’ve been spotted.

How delightful.

Did I tell you I’ve been invited
to Brideshead for Christmas?

Your mother wrote me
the most charming letter.

Charles, how good to see you.

You find me in solitary possession.

How are you?

Very well.

I gather Sebastian’s out hunting.

Yes, we’ve had a lawn meet
of the Marchmain hounds –

a deliciously archaic spectacle.

All our young friends
are in pursuit of the fox.

I’ve been spending a cozy
afternoon by the fire.

Sebastian, you will not
be surprised to hear,

looked remarkably elegant
in his pink coat.

Would you like some tea?

Your arrival emboldens me
to ring for some.

Is Lady Marchmain in?

No, she’s driven off with her
cousins to visit a neighbour.

She’ll be back in time for dinner.

How can I prepare you for the party?

Alas, it breaks up tomorrow.

Lady Julia departs to celebrate
the New Year elsewhere,

and takes the beau-monde with her.

I shall miss the pretty
creatures about the house,

particularly one Celia.

She’s the sister of our old
companion in adversity,

Boy Mulcaster,
and wonderfully unlike him.

I find her most engaging.

I shall miss her,
for I do not go tomorrow.

- How long are you staying?
- Oh, well into the New Year.

- And you, Charles?
- I don’t know.

Tomorrow I start in earnest
on our hostess’s book,

Thank you.

which, believe me,
is a treasure house of period gems.

Ah, the intrepid hunter returns.

Hello.
When did you get here?

About an hour ago.
Had a good day?

- Where are the others, Sebastian?
- I got fed up, so I hacked back.

I’m going up to change.

Come up and talk to me,
Charles, will you?

Well, no doubt
see you later, Mr Samgrass.

We went to chapel three times
on Christmas Day.

Mummy found some eunuchs
to sing High Mass.

It sounded very peculiar.

Well, we had the village choir
bawling at us,

from the Minstrels’ Gallery.

And cousin Jasper dragooned us into
playing endless games of bridge.

Will I know anybody who’s here?

No. I shouldn’t think so.

They’re all people of
mummy’s and Julia’s.

They’ll all be there at tea.

Hello, Sebastian.

See what I mean?

- An absolute zoo.
- Charles! You’ve arrived!

- Hello.
- Hello, Cordelia.

- Did you have a good Christmas?
- Quiet.

I’m going to ask mummy
if I can stay up specially late tonight,

- in honour of your arrival.
- Oh, that’ll be fun.

- Sebastian, what happened to you?
- Oh, I got bored.

Well, you missed the best part again.

We had the most tremendous
gallop across Spring Fields –

six jumps to Platts Wood
and I only just managed to stay on.

Well, we all know how brave you are.

Well, I’m braver than you
and I’ve only go Mr Beelzebub.

Oh, Sebastian, good to see you.

Hello.

I think the hounds got on much better form
after we dragged through Thaxton Wood.

They pressed very hard,
probably why we made the kill.

Ah, Ryder, how are you?

- Hello, Bridey. Very well, thanks.
- When did you get here?

Oh, Sebastian, what happened to you
after you left the home woods?

- I came back early.
- I looked all over the place for you.

Ah, Charles.

Our hostess has just returned.
She was asking if you had arrived yet.

You’ll find her in her sitting room.

Ah, thank you.

I’m just going along
to say hello to you mother.

Why?
You’ll see her this evening.

Well, you know.

I’ll see you later.

I’m delighted Charles has joined the party.

It augurs well, I feel, this reunion
of ours in your mother’s house.

I look forward to our time together.

- Did you enjoy your Christmas?
- Yes. Yes, I did. Thank you.

I hope you’ve both managed
to settle down after the “incident”.

Back at Oxford, I mean.

I gather your penance
hasn’t been too harsh.

We were gated, but...

I expect you realise we’ve
Mr Samgrass to thank for that,

I mean, that the pair of you
weren’t more severely dealt with.

He’s worked extraordinarily hard,
you know, on our behalf.

He saw the proctor, the vice-chancellor.
He got Monsignor Bell to call the dean.

Yes, I know.

Well, that’s all over now, isn’t it?

I must make a short visit
to the chapel before dinner.

I don’t suppose I can
persuade you to come.

We must make a Catholic of you, Charles.

Religion predominated in the house;
not only in its practices –

the daily mass and Rosary morning
and evening in the chapel –

but in all its intercourse.

Who’s coming to chapel for the Rosary?

Well, I think I’d better
look after Charles.

I must have my bath at once, mummy.
I’m filthy.

I’ll come. I can change later.

May I come too, Lady Marchmain,
if you don’t mind?

- Of course not. Father?
- Certainly, Lady Marchmain.

What did mummy say?

Oh, she spent most of the time
singing Samgrass’s praises

and reminding me
of our obligation to him.

How he saw the Vice Chancellor and...

And the Proctor.
Yes, I’ve had all that too.

I do wish Samgrass would go.
I’m so sick of being grateful to him.

Yes.

Thank God, at least Julia’s lot
are going tomorrow.

Goodbye, Charles!
Happy New Year!

- Oh, Julia darling, I forgot your present!
- Oh, that’s all right.

Goodbye, Tom. Goodbye, Margo.
Goodbye, Bobby. See you later.

I’ll see you at Polly’s!

If we don’t get there by midnight,
happy New Year!

Come along, Tom!

Come on, Charles.

For a fortnight we remained at Brideshead,
leading our own life.

I had no mind then
for anything except Sebastian.

And I saw him already as being threatened,

though I did not yet know
how black was the threat.

His constant, despairing prayer
was to be let alone.

And since he counted
among the intruders

his own conscience
and all claims of human affection,

his days in Arcadia were numbered.

He did not fail in love,
but he lost the joy of it,

for I was no longer part of his solitude.

As my intimacy with his family grew,

I became part of the world
he sought to escape;

I became one of the bonds which held him.

That was the part
for which his mother,

in all our little talks,
was seeking to fit me.

You have so many beautiful things.

You know, Charles, when I was a girl
we were comparatively poor,

but still much richer
than most of the world,

and when I married
I became very rich.

It used to worry me.

I thought it wrong to have so many
beautiful things when others had nothing.

Now I realise that it is possible
for the rich to sin

by coveting the privileges of the poor.

Can you see that?

Perhaps.

The poor have always been the favourites
of God and his saints,

but I believe it’s one of the
special achievements of Grace

to sanctify the whole of life,
riches included.

Wealth in pagan Rome was necessarily
something cruel; it’s not any more.

But I thought that it was
supposed to be easier

for a camel to pass
through the eye of a needle,

than for a rich man
to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.

It’s very unexpected for a camel
to go through the eye of a needle,

but then, the Gospel is simply
a catalogue of unexpected things.

It’s not to be expected that an ox
and an ass should worship at the crib.

Animals are always doing the oddest
things in the lives of the saints.

It’s all part of the poetry, the...

the Alice-in-Wonderland
side of religion.

Ready!

Pull!

Ready!

Pull!

Hello.

- Where have you been all morning?
- With your mother.

Oh, God.
Another of her little talks?

Well, I can’t help it if she thinks
I’m ripe for conversion.

- Ready!
- Pull!

You shouldn’t encourage her.

She can be very determined.

And I can be very stubborn.
You needn’t worry about me.

Ready!

Pull!

Oh, God, look at him.

Charles, I don’t think
I can take another day of this.

- Why don’t we go away somewhere?
- Where?

Oh, I don’t know.

Paris, Buenos Aires, New York,

Bayswater?

I think I’d settle for Bayswater.

- Do you think your father will have us?
- I don’t think he’d even notice us.

- After tea, then?
- After tea.

Come on, Sammy!

Ready!

Pull!

Ah, Charles!

I’ve just been telling Sebastian,
I’ve made the most interesting discovery.

Really?

- Pull?
- Oh, sorry.

That Hilary term at Oxford

we took up again the life that seemed
to be shrinking in the cool air.

The sadness, that had been strong
in Sebastian the term before,

gave place to a kind of sullenness,
even towards me.

He was sick at heart somewhere,
I did not know how,

and I grieved for him,
unable to help.

When he was happy now,
it was usually because he was drunk,

and when drunk he developed
an obsession for mocking Mr Samgrass.

Samgrass, green arse...

Samgrass, green arse...

All this, Mr Samgrass took in good part,

as though each outrage in some way
strengthen his hold in Sebastian.

It was during this term
that I began to realise

that Sebastian was a drunkard
in quite a different sense to myself.

Sebastian, it’s me.

Are you there?

Sebastian, are you all right?

What’s the matter?
Can I help?

I got drunk often, but through
an excess of high spirits,

in the love of the moment,
and the wish to prolong and enhance it;

Sebastian drank to escape.

Nothing’s the matter.

As we together grew older
and more serious

I drank less, he more.

Then, a succession of disasters
came upon him so swiftly

There’s nothing to be done.

and with such unexpected violence

that it is hard to say when exactly
I realised my friend was in deep trouble.

But I knew it well enough
in the Easter vacation at Brideshead.

Charles, go away.
There’s a good fellow.