Middlemarch (1994): Season 1, Episode 1 - Episode #1.1 - full transcript

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.