Middlemarch (1994): Season 1, Episode 4 - Episode #1.4 - 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.

(vendors shouting)

Mother:
Come on, stop it, you two.

- Whatever you want, we have.
- Man: Thank you, sir.

Now, look at
these beautiful...

Woman:
Just ripe this morning.

Soap, sir?

Woman:
Come along, sir, and get
your lovely breakfast.

All fresh this morning.
lovely fresh Middlemarch pies.

(coughing)

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)

You must understand,
Vincy, that I stretch

my tolerance towards
you and your family

because you are
my wife’s brother.

And as to your son
Frederick...

it was entirely
from worldly vanity
that you sent him

to university
and destined him
for the church.

Now you are reaping the reward
of your own folly and his.

There’s no going back.

It’s a good British feeling
to try to raise your family
a little.

It’s a father’s duty
to try to give his son
a chance in life.

If you mean us to come down
in the world, say so!

I am not at all sure
I should be befriending your son

by smoothing his way
towards the acquisition
of Featherstone’s property.

If you mean
to hinder anyone

from having Molly
but saints and evangelists,

you’ll have to give up
some profitable partnerships,

that’s all I can say!
It’s this sort of thing –

trying to play bishop
and banker everywhere –

it makes
a man’s name stink!

Let me remind you, Vincy...

it was not your prudence
or judgment,

but my material help

that has enabled you to keep
your place in the trade.

You like to be master,
there’s no denying that.

You’re my sister’s husband -
we ought to stick together.

If you won’t put a stop
to this rumor about Fred,

you might as well
slander him yourself.

I consider it
unhandsome of you

to refuse to write
this letter, brother Bulstrode.

I consider it
very unhandsome.

“...and I distinctly
affirm

“that I have no
information that your son

“borrowed any money
on any property

“that might accrue to him
on Mr. Featherstone’s demise.”

(laughs)
Accrue, property, demise...

Fine words
for a speculated man.

Come from nowhere
that one too.

Mind you, I hear
he owns your father –

lock, stock and barrel.
Or his bank does.
(snickers)

So what do you
expect now?

A little fortune, eh?

(grumbles)

There we are.

There. And there.

And there. And –

that’s all.

Well, you might show
a little gratitude.

Thank you, sir.

I’m very much
obliged to you.

Ah, I should
think you are.

(mumbling)

- Mary!
- Am I wanted?

No. I came
to see you, Mary.

What’s the matter?

Oh Mary, you’ll think
I’m a despicable fellow.

Uncle Featherstone just
made me a present of £100.

£100?

Yes, it was
very generous of him

and I should be grateful –
I am grateful.

I was hoping
it might be more...

because I’m in debt
for £160.

And a friend –
a very good friend -

signed a bill
of security for me,

making himself responsible
for the whole sum.

I was hoping uncle’s gift
might clear it

and then I could start afresh
with a clean slate.

You see?

I confess everything
to you.

- And that makes
everything better?
- No!

I thought you looked so sad
when I came in just now.

It’s a shame
you should stay here
and be bullied.

Oh, I have an easy life
in comparison to some.

I tried being a teacher,
but I wasn’t fit for that.

My mind’s too fond
of wandering on its own way.

I couldn’t be a good clergyman
any more than you could be
a good governess.

I never said
you ought to be
a clergyman.

There are other sorts
of work, aren’t there?

Oh Fred.
Why can’t you just resolve

on something sensible
and stick to it?

I’ll never be good
for anything, Mary, unless
I know you love me.

Me father says
an idle man ought not
to exist.

Much less,
be married.

Then what am I to do?
Blow my brains out?

No.
On the whole, I think
you’d do better

to pass
your examination.

Mr. Farebrother says
it is disgracefully easy.

Oh everything’s
easy to him!

But it’s not
cleverness really.
I could pass.

I’m ten times as clever
as some of the men that pass.

Oh, are you?
Then you must be
ten times as idle as they are.

If I did pass,
you wouldn’t want me
to go into the church?

Fred, it shouldn’t
be the question what
I want you to do.

You have a conscience
of your own; what do you
think you should do?

I know this. If you won’t
give me any encouragement,
I shall just get worse.

I won’t give you
any encouragement!
It would be a disgrace

if I accepted a man
who got into debt
and wouldn’t work!

(crying)

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.

(thunder rumbling)

Chettam:
Engaged? To Casaubon!

Good God,
it’s horrible.

- It’s very vexing, James.
- You’ve seen the man, mother.

What business has a shriveled
old bachelor like that
to marry a young girl?

- He has one foot in the grave.
- He means to take it out again,
I suppose.

Apparently, she says
he has a great soul.

A great bladder
for dried peas
to rattle in.

It does seem
most unfair.

Unfair?
Brooke ought not
to allow it.

He should insist, at least,
on its being put off –

who ever heard of Brooke
on insisting on anything
except not spending his money?

It is horrible,
Mrs. Cadwallader.

It is.

I don’t think of myself –
not entirely.

I think of her.

Well, I throw her over.

There was a chance,
if she’d married you,

of her becoming a sane,
sensible woman,

but now I wish her joy
of her hair shirt.

Very perverse in her.
Very perverse indeed.

However, Chettam,
if I were a man,

I think
I should prefer Celia.

Celia?

I think you’ll find
she admires you

as much as a man
expects to be admired.

Lady Chettam:
She’s a sweet girl.

Very fond of geraniums,

more docile
than her sister,

though perhaps
not quite so fine
a figure.

I think
I should prefer Celia,
if I were a man.

Oh dear.

Brooke:
After you, my dear.

Here we are then.

Welcome to Lowick.

Brooke:
Thank you.

Brooke:
Well, it’s a good
old house, you know?

Decent proportions.
I went into all that once –

palladio and so forth.

It’s all a bit
dark and bare at present.

Bachelor’s house, of course,
bachelor’s house.

This is my library.

As you may well imagine,

a great deal of my time
is spent in here.

And these are my notebooks.

For my own work,

“A Key To All
Mythologies.”

I think I should
begin to learn
Latin and Greek.

I could read them
aloud to you,

as Milton’s daughters
did to their father.

If I remember rightly,
the young ladies
you’ve mentioned

regarded that exercise
in unknown tongues

as a ground of rebellion
against the poet.

Well, I hope
you don’t expect me
to be rebellious, Edward.

(forced chuckle)
Latin and Greek –

I fear it might be
rather wearisome for you.

Certainly it would be
a great advantage

if you could learn to copy out
the Greek characters.

And to that end,

yes, it might be well to begin
with a little reading.

(reads in Latin)

(translates)
“Education is a possession

“which none
can take away.”

It would only take
a little, you know,
a very little,

lighter colors,
perhaps.

What do you think
of duck’s egg blue?

Dorothea:
Everything is just
as I would wish it.

Casaubon:
I’m delighted,
my dear Dorothea.

Now favor me
with an opinion
of the room

which I’ve set aside
as your boudoir.

Oh, yes!
This could make
a pretty room –

with some kind
of new hangings,

a sofa or two,
that sort of thing.

- It’s rather bare now.
- Uncle, you mustn’t speak
of altering anything.

Oh, well, oh.

Was this
your mother’s room?

Indeed it was.

And this...

Dorothea:
...is your mother.

- And who is this?
- Her elder sister.

- The sister is pretty.
- It’s an interesting face.

You never mentioned
her to me, Edward?

No. My aunt...

made an unfortunate
marriage.

I never saw her.

Shall we walk
in the garden?

Who’s that youngster
sketching over there, Casaubon?

That is a young
relative of mine.

The grandson, in fact,
of the lady whose portrait
you noticed.

- My Aunt Julia.
- Oh.

- You’re an artist, I see.
- No, I only sketch a little.

- There’s nothing fit
to be seen there.
- Oh come now.

Allow me to introduce
my cousin Mr. Ladislaw.

Will,
this is Miss Dorothea,
Miss Celia Brooke.

- Dorothea: how do
you do, Mr. Ladislaw?
- How do you do, Miss Brooke?

- Mr. Brooke.
- This is a nice bit.

Is it not?

I did a little myself

in this way at one time,
did you know that?

Oh now, look, this...

this is what I call
a nice little thing.

Done with what we used
to call brio, hmm?

I’m no judge
of these things.

I’m never able to see
the beauty of pictures
that are much praised.

They’re a language
I don’t understand.

Well now, there we are.

You’ll come to my house,
I hope, one day -

and I’ll show you what
I’ve done in this line.
- Thank you.

Well, shall we walk on?

Brooke:
What’s that young man
going to do with himself?

Is he going to be
a painter or a poet?

He has the look of a poet.
Shelley had that look –
about the eyes.

The answer
to your question, sir,

is painfully
doubtful.

My young cousin
is many things,

but nothing
in particular.

To put it more
charitably,

he has not yet
found his vocation.

His present purpose
is to travel abroad.

To what end,
I do not know.

Culture, he says.

I’ve agreed
to support him
for a year or so.

He asks no more.
I shall let him
be tried

by the test
of freedom.

Arabella, my dear!

Brooke has invited
half the town as well
as the county.

Mrs. Cadwallader:
What a to-do.

He was never one
to spend his money
like this.

That’s Bulstrode
the banker.

- The new sawbones Lydgate.
- Lady Chettam: One hears
very well of him.

Mrs. Cadwallader:
Oh he’s a gentleman.
he talks well.

I can remember when
medical men knew their place,
and kept it –

with the servants.
Hicks, for example.

He was coarse
and butcher-like,

- but he understood
my constitution.
- This is too much.

Brooke is asking us
to sit down with
tradespeople.

Middlemarch bagmen.

There’s Vincy,
the ribbon manufacturer.

Well, I’m quite happy
to peruse his pattern book,

- but I don’t want to eat
my dinner with the fellow.
- ...from Paris.

- Or his awful wife.
- It’s some whim of Brooke’s.
He means well enough.

I’ll tell you
what he means...

He means to go into politics
and stand for Parliament.

And as a liberal,
as like as not.

That’s what all this
has got up in aid of.

Toadying
to the hoi polloi.

(glass clinking)

Friends, a few brief words
on this happy occasion.

We are met together
to celebrate the betrothal

of my dear
niece Dorothea,

to my good and learned friend
the Reverend Edward Casaubon,

and to share
their happiness.

Marriage is
a joining...

a union,
a sort of closing up,
do you see?

And yet in another sense,
it’s a reaching out,

an exploration,
if you will,

and so forth.

Progress, now...

that is going to happen
whether we like it or not.

And that’s why
I am for it.

That’s why I’m happy
to welcome

progressive men here,

men who have
the well-being

of their fellow men
at heart and the women too.

Here’s Mr. Bulstrode
of the bank.

You’re very welcome
to my table, sir.

and Mayor Vincy...

Who – who, uh –

excellent, yes.

And Dr. Lydgate,
who studied in Paris
and so forth.

All the new ideas
for the new hospital.

Progress, do you see?
Progress and reform,

but in a spirit
of temperance and moderation.

Let it never be said
that Brooke was not

for progress and reform.

Excellent, yes.

(guests murmuring)

Ah! I quite forgot.

Ladies and gentlemen,
I give you the toast
to the happy couple.

All:
To the happy couple.

My thanks
once again, sir.

A most delightful occasion
in every way.

You know, Casaubon,
I’m very fond
of my nieces.

Fonder than I
can say.

I’ve tried to do
my best for the girls

since their poor father
and mother died,

as far as a bachelor can.

Do you know,
I don’t think anything

means more to me
than that they
should be happy.

I hear you intend to extend
your wedding journey
far as Rome.

I think the weather
will be mild enough.

And of course,
there are some manuscripts
in the Vatican

which will be invaluable
for my research.

And I long to see
all the antiquities in Rome.

And Edward will be able
to tell you about every
single one, I’m sure.

I shall not
detain you longer.

We shall meet
again, very soon.

I still regret
that your sister is
not to accompany us.

You will have many
lonely hours, Dorothea.

I shall feel
constrained

to make the utmost
use of my time

during our stay
in Rome.

I should feel
more at liberty

- if you had a companion.
- More at liberty?

Well, yes,
if you had a lady
as your companion,

I could put you both
under the care of a cicerone

and we would
thus achieve two purposes
in the same space of time.

You must have
misunderstood me,
Edward,

if you think
I should not value
your time.

I beg you will not
refer to this again.

Please don’t be
anxious about me.

Very well, my dear.

As you wish.

(horse neighs)

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.

(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.

(church bells tolling)

(speaking Italian)

Vendor:
Si, señora.

Are you sure
you have time?

My dear,
I am deeply mindful
that my studies

have caused me
to neglect you
these past few weeks.

I’ve set aside today
for –

- (clamoring)
- Not today.

Not today.

This site
is regarded by many
as one of the finest

the continent
has to offer.

Indeed,
I believe Rome is one
among several cities

to which
an extreme hyperbole
has been applied.

“See Rome and die.”

In your case,
I would propose
an emendation

and say, “See Rome
as a bride and...

live thenceforth
as a happy wife.”

I thought now
you might like to visit

the Palazzo
Doria Pamphili.

Dorothea:
Would you like
to see it?

It is highly esteemed
by the cognoscenti.

Well yes,
but do you care
about it?

I’m ready to go
if you wish it.

- Are you not tired, Edward?
- My dear, as I have said,

I have set aside today
for your diversion.

Fatigue is neither
here nor there.

I wish you did not feel
that I need diversions.

Why, I love to visit
the antiquities,
of course,

but only if you
enjoy it too.

I would be far happier
if you would let me

help you with your research
for the book.

Most persons
think it worthwhile

to visit the Palazzo
Doria Pamphili.

Casaubon:
The great family
which created the collection

reached its zenith
in the 17th century,

when one of the sons
was elected

to the chair
of St. Peter

as Innocent X.

The god Apollo,
or Phoebus.

I suspect
of the Augustan Period.

The cult of Apollo
is, of course, linked
to that of Bacchus,

and inspired
the appalling excesses

of the bacchanalian
revels.

Note how the male
and female principles
are combined.

The ancients believed
that this combination...

served as
an inspiration

to the arts
and music.

Look at this, Edward.

A common theme
in fourth century
Athenian sculpture,

Cupid and Venus.

Almost certainly
an inferior copy

of a Greek original.

Perhaps we’ve seen
enough for one day.

Shall we go?

It occurs to me,
we are very near
the Capitoline Library.

I wonder if you
might allow me

half an hour to consult
some documents there?

Of course.

Why didn’t you
say so before?

Well, there’s much here
of great interest for you.

A half an hour then.

Come look
at this woman, quick.

Beautiful.

I should like
to paint her
as the Madonna.

Good God.

Do you know her?

I do.

She’s married
to my cousin.

She’s married?
But I saw her

with some old
geistlicher.

Who is he?
Whe father?
The uncle?

Will:
That’s her husband.

Introduce her
to me, Ladislaw.
I must paint her.

Confound you, Naumann.

I don’t know what I shall do.
I’m not so brazen as you.

Man:
I go for Farebrother.

Put £40 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.