The Philco-Goodyear Television Playhouse (1948–1956): Season 1, Episode 17 - Pride and Prejudice - full transcript

Philco Corporation, world's largest
radio and television manufacturer,

and a leader in the field of refrigeration,
presents the Philco Television Playhouse.

Every Sunday evening at this hour,
the Philco Television Playhouse

brings to your home the all-time
hits of the American Theatre,

performed by the stars
who made them famous.

And now here is your host
ladies and gentlemen,

the celebrated Broadway star,
Mr. Bert Lytell.

Thank you, Bob Stanton. Good evening,
friends, and welcome once again.

Our play tonight is based on Jane
Austen's novel, "Pride and Prejudice",

which of course is a classic
of the English language.

Now people used to be dismayed
by the word "classic". But not any more.



We've come to realize that
a classic is just a good story

that's been a good story for a long time.

And this is good, a story
that holds your interest:

It's the story of the
winning of a husband,

which you might say is a game,
or a sport of great antiquity.

And we're going to tell it as Miss Jane
Austen told it a great many years ago.

As a matter of fact, we're going
to let Miss Jane Austen tell it.

Miss Austen?
Miss Austen?

The beginning of your story please?

- The very beginning?
- Oh, from the very first line.

It is a truth universally acknowledged,
that a single man

in possession of good fortune,
must be in want of a wife.

However little known the views
or feelings of such a man may be

upon his first entering a neighborhood,



this truth is so well fixed in the
minds of the surrounding families,

that he is considered as
the rightful property

of someone or other
of their daughters.

"My dear Mr. Bennet,"
said his lady to him one day,

did you know that Netherfield
Hall has been taken at last?

- No, no I didn't.
- But it is.

Mrs. Long has just been here
and told me all about it.

Don't you want to know who has taken it?

Well, you want to tell me, and I
have no objection to hearing it.

It's been taken by a young man of
large fortune from the north of England.

- Really? And what's his name?
- Bingley.

- Is he married or single?
- Oh! Single, my dear, to be sure!

A single man of large fortune;
four or five thousand a year.

What a fine thing for our girls!

How so? How can it possibly affect them?

Mr. Bennet, how can you be so tiresome!

You must know that I am thinking
of his marrying one of them.

Is that his design in settling here?

Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so!

But it is very likely that he may
fall in love with one of them,

and therefore you must
visit him at once.

I see no occasion for that, my dear.

You and the girls may go, and as you
are as handsome as any of them,

perhaps Mr. Bingley might like
you the best of the party.

My dear, you flatter me.

But when a woman has
three grown daughters,

she has to give over thinking
of her own beauty.

Yes, in such cases, a woman has
seldom much beauty to think of.

But you must indeed go and see Mr. Bingley.

That is more then I engage to do, my dear.

But consider your daughters.

They've none of them
much to recommend them;

they are stupid and ignorant,
like most other girls;

but Lizzy seems to have more
quickness about her than her sisters.

Mr. Bennet, how can you
abuse your daughters so?

You take delight in vexing me.

You have no compassion
for my poor nerves.

You mistake me, my dear. I have
the highest respect for your nerves.

They are my old friends.
I've heard you mention them

with consideration for these
twenty years at least.

Ah, you do not know what I suffer!

Mr. Bennet was so odd
a mixture of quick parts,

sarcastic humor,
reserve, and caprice,

that the experience
of a long married life

had been insufficient to make
his wife understand him.

Her character was less
difficult to develop.

She was a woman of mean understanding,
little information, and uncertain temper.

When she was discontented,
she fancied herself nervous.

The business of her life was
to get her daughters married.

And now, see then now,
the three Bennet girls.

I may tell the beginnings of this
story in terms of two parties,

the young men the girls met, and
the adventures that befell them.

This is Jane, kind
and affectionate,

who never sees a fault in anybody,
who never speaks ill of anyone.

And Lydia of easy manners,
and good-humored countenance,

the favorite of her mother,
and like her mother, a bit silly.

And Elizabeth, her father's
Lizzy, her friends' Eliza,

the quick, the wise, the
witty, the volatile Elizabeth.

Here they are, the three Bennet girls,
come to the ball to meet Mr. Bingley,

their new neighbor Mr. Bingley.

and Mr. Bingley's sisters,
and Mr. Bingley's guests.

They speak so well, with such refinement.

Mr. Bingley is so good-looking
and gentlemanlike.

He has a pleasant countenance,
and easy, unaffected manners.

His sisters are fine women,
with an air of decided fashion.

His brother-in-law, Mr. Hurst,
merely looks the gentleman.

- Who is that?
- That's Mr. Bingley's friend, Mr. Darcy.

He is so fine, and tall, and handsome.

I think Mr. Bingley is more handsome.

Miss Bennet, may I ask the pleasure?

Jane has caught his eye.

Ah, but Mr. Darcy looks more noble.

Mr Darcy looks to be proud; to be above
his company, and above being pleased.

Oh look, there are some
here from the regiment!

Come, Darcy, I must have you dance.

I hate to see you standing about
in such a stupid manner.

You had much better dance.
- I certainly shall not.

You know how I detest it, unless I am
personally acquainted with my partner.

Your sisters are engaged, and there
is not another woman in the room

whom it would not be a punishment
to me to stand up with.

I would not be so fastidious
as you are for a kingdom!

Ah, yes, but then, you are dancing
with the only handsome girl in the room.

Miss Bennet? Ah! She is the most
beautful creature I ever beheld!

But there is one of her sisters who is
very pretty, and I dare say very amiable.

Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.
- Which do you mean?

She is tolerable, but not
handsome enough to tempt me:

I am in no humor at present
time to give consequence

to young ladies who are
slighted by other men.

You had better return to your
partner and enjoy her smiles,

for you are wasting
your time with me.

Oh, that Mr. Darcy!
What a horrid disagreeable man.

So high and so conceited,
there is no enduring him.

He walks here, and he walks there,
fancying himself so very great.

I do wish your dear papa were here,
to give him one of his set-downs.

I quite detest the man.
He is eat up with pride.

It's a common failing, mama.

What a charming amusement
this is for young people!

There is nothing like dancing, after all.

I consider it as one of the first
refinements of polished societies.

Certainly, sir; and it
has the advantage also

of being in vogue amongst the less
civilizes societies of the world.

Every savage can dance.

I've no doubt you're an adept
yourself of the science, sir.

My dear Miss Eliza,
but why are you not dancing?

Mr. Darcy, allow me to present you

this charming young lady
as a most desirable partner.

You cannot refuse to dance,
when so much beauty is before you.

Thank you, sir William, but I
have no intention of dancing.

I entreat you not to think that I passed
this way in order to beg for a partner.

But you excel so much
in the dance, Miss Eliza.

It would be cruel to deny me
the pleasure of watching you.

and though this gentleman
dislikes the amusement in general,

I am sure he can have no objection
to oblige us for one half-hour.

No objection?

If Miss Bennet will allow me
the honor of her hand...

- Mr. Darcy is all politeness.
- He is indeed! He is indeed!

Thank you, no.

But she is usually a most amiable girl!
Most amiable!

- Yes.
- Excuse me, sir, excuse me.

- I can guess the subject of your reverie.
- I should imagine not.

You are considering how
insupportable it would be

to have to spend many evenings
in this manner in such society;

and indeed, I am quite of your opinion.

The insipidity, and yet the
noise, the nothingness,

and yet the self-importance
of all these people.

Your conjecture is totally wrong,
I assure you.

My mind was most agreeably engaged.

I've been meditating on
the very great pleasure

which a pair of fine eyes in the
face of a pretty woman can bestow.

Why, Mr. Darcy, I must...

May I ask to what lady goes the credit
of inspiring such reflections?

- Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
- Miss Elizabeth Bennet!

I am all astonishment!

How long has she been such a favorite?
And pray, when am I to wish you joy?

You know, that is exactly the
question I expected you to ask.

A lady's imagination is very rapid;
it leaps from admiration to love,

from love to matrimony, in a moment.
I knew you would be wishing me joy.

Nay, but if you are serious, I shall
consider the matter as absolutely settled.

Sister! Sister, I have news! Mr. Darcy
is taken with Miss Elizabeth Bennet!

Ah, Mr. Darcy! And when
shall we wish you joy?

Such is the penalty for a passing
remark on a lady's appearance.

Our brother will approve, since he looks
with favor upon the young lady's sister.

Nay, sisters, you must believe, I have a
most excessive regard for Miss Jane Bennet!

And do you have such regard for her father,
her mother, and her low connections?

I have heard that their
uncle is an attorney.

- Yes.
- And they have another,

who lives somewhere in Cheapside.
- That is capital!

If they had enough uncles
to fill all of Cheapside,

it shouldn't make them
one jot less agreeable.

But it must very materially
lessen their chance

of marrying men of any
consideration in the world.

Well said, Mr. Darcy!

Come, brother, consider
their vulgar relations!

Look upon that common, stupid
woman who is their mother,

Will she not make a charming mother-in-law?

You and Mr. Darcy are to be congratulated!

A charming mother-in-law indeed!

Such was the first ball,
such was the beginning,

auspicious or inauspicious,
as depends upon the sister.

As the days and the weeks went by,

it became evident that
Mr Bingley did admire Jane;

and it became equally evident that she
found his attentions to her most pleasing.

Mrs Bennet was under the delightful
persuasion that she should undoubtedly

see her daughter married and settled
within the course of three or four months.

As for Elizabeth... occupied in observing
Mr Bingley's attentions to her sister,

Elizabeth was far from suspecting
that she herself was becoming

the object of some interest
in the eyes of his friend.

Mr. Darcy was become aware that
she attracted him more than he liked,

and, being conscious of
her inferior connections,

wisely resolved that no sign of
admiration should escape him.

Of this, Elizabeth was perfectly unaware;

to her he was only the man who had
made himself agreeable nowhere.

After days and weeks, the time finally
arrived for the second ball of the season.

How your eyes shine, Jane!

Is it at the mere thought that soon
you will dancing with Mr. Bingley?

I marvel that the thought of any young
man should make a lady's eyes shine so.

He's just what a young man ought to be:

Sensible, goodhumored, lively;
and I never saw such happy manners!

So much ease, with such
perfect good breeding!

Hold still. And of course
he's very handsome,

which every young man ought
to be, if he possibly can.

His character thereby is complete,
and I give you leave to like him.

- Dearest Lizzy!
- Dear, dear, Jane.

Tell me: Does he like you?
- Yes.

Oh yes I know, but does he love you?

That I cannot say.

Oh Jane, you have too much composure.

He may never do more than like you,
unless you help him on.

But I do help him on!
As much as my nature will allow.

But your nature will not allow enough!

Very few young men have heart enough
to be really in love without encouragement.

Oh, you make me laugh, dear Lizzie.
But it is not sound.

You know that it is not sound, and that
you would never act in this way yourself.

- No...
- Elizabeth! Elizabeth!

Here, Lydia, I'm here with Jane.

What do you think? George
Wickham will be at the ball!

- Who?
- George Wickham!

He's the officer who is stationed
with the regiment at Meryton!

He has been away to London,
but he has returned,

and this afternoon we met, and spoke,

and he told me that he'd surely
be at the ball, and I am so happy.

Surely he's the most
handsome man I've ever seen.

- Is he, dear? - Father is right,
Lydia; you are a silly girl.

But you've both seen him! You must agree!

He is the most handsome man
that ever wore regimentals!

Now you're narrowing it down.

- Jane! Elizabeth! Lydia!
- Yes, mama.

Come along, girls! Stop your
chattering; it's time to start!

Oh mother! You've added something!

- Yes! Do you like it?
- Yes, yes, it's lovely, mother.

Well, come along then; Mr Bingley
will be waiting to dance with Jane.

And Elizabeth, I do hope that tonight

you will attract the attention
of one particular man.

- Thank you, mother.
- Come along, girls!

It vexes me that my brother should insist
that we come to these country balls.

Abominable! They have no manners.

We should be much better off
at home with a game of whist.

I do not see Miss Jane Bennet.

Look for your brother,
and you will see her.

He is too much taken with that girl,
Louisa; too much taken.

Now my dear, where shall I place you?

There! There sits Mrs. Bennet.

Very well, you shall sit beside her,
watch the young dance, and gossip.

Ah, Mr Wickham, there's no one more
desirable in conversation than you.

I must own, Miss Bennet, that in your
society, conversation becomes superfluous.

Miss Bennet, may I apply for
your hand in the next dance?

- Why yes, I mean...
- I will be honored.

- But he took me by surprise!
- I'm glad you said yes, Lizzie.

But it's not fair! He took me by surprise!
I do not wish to dance with that man!

Ah, Lizzie, I dare say that you
will find him very agreeable.

That would be a great misfortune!
To find a man agreeable,

whom one is determined to hate!
Do not wish me such an evil.

Miss Bennet. Will you allow me
to take your dear sister away?

I entrust her to you, Mr. Bingley.

Don't be a simpleton, Lizzy.

- The dance floor is quite smooth.
- Yes, it is.

It is your turn to say
something now, Mr. Darcy.

I've remarked about the dance floor,
and you should say something about...

about the size of the room,
or the number of couples.

I assure you, whatever
you wish me to say, is said.

Very well. That will do for the present.

By and by I may remark
that I consider private balls

much more delightful
than public ones.

But for the present we may be silent.

Do you talk by rule, then,
while you are dancing?

Sometimes. One must say
something, you know.

It would look so odd if we were
silent for a half hour together.

of course, for the benefit of some,
conversation ought to be so arranged,

that they may have the trouble
of saying as little as possible.

Are you consulting your own
feelings in the present case,

or do you imagine that
you are gratifying mine?

- Why, both.
- Mr. Darcy!

This is highly gratifying indeed!

Such very superior dancing
is not often seen.

It is evident that you
belong to the first circles.

But allow me to say, that your
fair partner does not disgrace you.

Ah my dear Miss Eliza, this is a pleasure
that I must hope will often be repeated,

now that a certain desirable
event will take place.

Ah, what congratulations will then flow in!

They'll make a fine couple, a fine couple!

But I must not interrupt you, sir.

You will not thank me for detaining
you from the bewitching converse

of this charming young lady, whose
bright eyes are also upbraiding me.

Sir William's interruption has made
me forget what we were talking of.

We were not speaking at all, Mr. Darcy.

Sir William could hardly
have interrupted.

any couple who had less
to say for themselves.

We've tried two or three subjects
already without success,

and what we are to talk of next,
I cannot imagine.

- What think you of books?
- Books?

Oh, no. No, Mr. Darcy.
One cannot talk of books in a ball-room.

One cannot be sure, Mrs. Bennet.
One cannot be sure.

Nay, but there are some things, Lady Lucas.

Watch, then, and see how
Mr. Bingley gazes at my Jane;

with what tenderness he adresses her!

I have the greatest expectations!
They will be married soon;

I cannot believe that
they will not be married.

See! See them now!

Oh, it is but a matter of time before he
comes to ask for her hand in marriage.

And you will agree, Lady Lucas,
the match has great advantages!

La! He is so charming! And so rich!

And living as he does
within three miles of us,

he will be one of the family, is it not so?

I must beg you to excuse me, Dr. Darcy,
this dancing has given me a headache.

...but I shall persuade him to buy it,
and settle down with us,

with our dear Jane,
and then for the other girls...

- Mama, please, lower your voice.
- ...there are sure to be other rich men...

- Mama, please speak quieter.
- ...dear Lady Lucas...

Mama, Mr. Darcy can hear you!

And what is Mr. Darcy to me, pray,
that I should be afraid of him?

I am sure we owe him no particular civility

as to be obliged to say nothing
he might not like to hear.

Please, mother, I beg you, speak quieter!

Mr. King's carriage, Mr. King's carriage.

Mr. Darcy, a most excellent ball, sir,
a most excellent and delightful evening.

It may be that in London
the balls are more brilliant,

but I'm sure they are no more genteel.

Sir William Lucas' carriage,
Sir William Lucas' carriage.

Come, my dear.

Send again for Mr. Bingley's carriage!

Where are the girls?

Oh, there you are, Elizabeth!

Oh! And look at Jane!

Ladies, I anticipate
that the picture we see

is as much to your pleasing
as it is to mine!

A charming man, your brother,
a charming man!

And as for Jane, I do not wish
to boast about my own child,

but to be sure, Jane, everybody
speaks of her beauty.

I do not trust my own partiality.
- Mother...

When she was only fifteen years,
there was a gentleman

so much in love with her, we were
sure he would make her an offer.

However, he did not.
Perhaps he thought her too young.

However, he wrote some verses
on her, and very pretty they were.

And so ended his affection.

I wonder who first discovered the
efficacy of poetry in driving away love!

I have been used to consider
poetry as the food of love.

Of a stout, healthy love it may be.

But if it be a slight,
thin sort of inclination,

I am quite sure one good sonnet
will starve it entirely away.

Lizzy, pray remember where
you are, and do not run on

in the wild manner you are
suffered to do at home.

Oh, I do hope we shall see
you soon at Longbourn.

Your dear brother, Mr. Bingley, has already
promised to eat family dinner with us,

and I assure you it would
make me oh most happy,

to have all of you at any time without
the ceremony of a formal invitation.

You are very kind, but we are
leaving for London tomorrow.

- Tomorrow?
- Ah, what a pity!

Then your dear brother will
be left at Netherfield alone!

No, our bother goes with us.

With you? He said nothing of this.

It had escaped his mind. Unfortunately
we have urgent business in London

which we had completely forgotten
until we were reminded of it by Mr Darcy.

- By Mr. Darcy...
- How sad it is when dear friends part.

But you will come dine with us
when you return.

Well, it's hard to say
when we shall return.

Curtain falls on the first act of our play,

and I have as a guest here,
in our Philco green room,

one of the most popular young musicians
and band leaders in this country,

Frankie Carle.
Frankie?

Come here, let me shake
that good right hand of yours.

Bert, take both my hands,
I'm scared to death.

Can you imagine that? Here's a man that's
faced millions of people in his career,

and he tells me he's scared.
What are you scared of?

Well, it's the first time I've
ever faced a television camera.

- Oh, go on!
- I'll tell you what:

This reminds me of my
first public appearance.

- What happened then? - You remember
a song called "Goodie goodie"?

- Oh, sure!
- Well I sing "Goodie goodie",

and got all the way through, and then I
realized the band was playing "Sweet Sue".

Oh, we can't have you that nervous.
No, I got to call Bob Stanton in,

because he's going to explain me
about the long playing records

and these wonderful new
Philco radio phonographs.

Bob, you know Frankie?
- I surely do.

Hello Frankie, nice to see you.
- Hi Bob.

What do you think of this
Philco table radio phonograph?

Well, that's a beautiful instrument, Bob.

Oh, not only that, it's the world's
finest table radio phonograph.

And you know these long playing records,
oh, there are so many advantages to them.

Look, here's one of them:
See, they're unbreakable.

And that's going to save
you plenty of money, too.

And storage space too, and don't forget,

that on this one record, you have
all the music of a six record album.

and did you ever hear
the beat of it for quality?

The tone is really gorgeous.

I want to show you
something else over here.

You know, I heared your record,
your long playing record the other day,

of your "Roses in rhythm".
- How did you like it, Bob?

Oh, well, it's by Frankie
Carle, so I like it plenty.

You know, this Philco is going
to reproduce your record

with clarity and tone that's
absolutely out of this world.

Just as though you were playing your
own piano right in your own living room.

Where's the speaker?

The speaker's right here in
this Philco television console.

You know, that's quite a deal. You see,
this Philco album length record player

not only equips any radio or phonograph
to play those long playing records,

but it even does the job for a television
set that doesn't even have a phonograph.

- I call that pretty smart, don't you?
- Mighty mighty smart, Bob.

And of course it goes with a slower
speed, 33 1/3 revolutions a minute.

Well, we're going to have a sample of
that Frankie Carle music later on, Bob.

Right now, there is the signal
for our second act.

Now back to "Pride and prejudice", and
to the teller of our story: Miss Austen.

Miss Austen, will you
continue with the story?

- Now?
- If you will.

Installment two. With the Bingleys
gone, and Netherfield empty,

life in the Bennet family
settled back into triviality.

Thus, diversified by little
beyond the walks to Meryton,

sometimes cold and sometimes dirty,
did January and February pass away.

The report shortly prevailed in Meryton,

the Bingleys would return no more
to Netherfield the whole winter;

a report which highly incensed Mrs. Bennet,

and which she never failed to contradict
as a most scandalous falsehood.

But, as March passed into April,
it became evident

that the Bingleys
would return no more.

- Jane, have you heard nothing?
- There was a letter.

- From him?
- No, nothing from him.

The letter was from his sister Caroline.

A sweet letter, and polite,
but saying nothing.

That was so long ago.
It's difficult to understand.

I do not think so.

I cannot attribute any part of
Mr. Bingley's conduct to design.

No, but you may attribute it
to the design of others.

Caroline Bingley and her sister have seen
that their brother is in love with you,

and they wish him
to marry elsewhere.

And Mr. Darcy, in the role of
his friend, is their conspirator.

It's quite simple, Jane: We are not rich
enough, nor grand enough for them.

I cannot believe it; neither of
his sisters, nor of Mr. Darcy.

I think you may believe it
of the proud Mr. Darcy.

You are quite right, sister.

If you knew what I know,
youcould believe many things

of the proud and haughty Mr. Darcy.

You, Lydia? What can you know of Mr. Darcy?

Particularly since you confine your company
exclusively to officers of the regiment.

I know more than you think.

I know this: that your proud
Mr. Darcy has cheated and robbed

one of the sweetest men that ever
drew breath: Mr. George Wickham!

- Why, Lydia!
- How do you know this, Lydia?

From Mr. Wickham himself.

He said they were once
very close companions.

Indeed, Mr. Wickham was godson
to Mr. Darcy's father.

As they grew older, they drew apart,
then when the elder Mr. Darcy died,

it was discovered in his will that he'd
made a bequest upon Mr. Wickham,

but Mr. Darcy chose to disregard it.

But how could that be? How could the will
be disregarded? Had he no legal redress?

Of what avail is law against
a man so powerful as Mr. Darcy?

Besides, although I do
not fully understand it,

it seems there was an
informality in the bequest;

but no man of honour could
have doubted the intentions.

But Mr. Darcy chose to doubt it.
- How strange! How abominable!

Nay, Mr. Bennet, you must put down your
book, and listen! Are you not concerned?

Madam, I am concerned with the increasing
lack of peace in this household.

And no thought to your daughters,
or their happiness?

Why doesn't Mr. Bingley
return to Netherfield?

If he doesn't come soon,
I shall not dare face our neighbors.

Your daughter Jane
has been very ill-used, sir.

We have been ill-used, and I demand
to know what you will do about it.

Do? Why, I shall challenge the
young man to a duel, of course.

Ah, nobody takes my side,
nobody takes part with me.

I am most ill-used, and shall
never see my daughters married.

I have finished the book,
father, thank you.

Thank you my dear.

Well, Elizabeth, your sister has
been crossed in love, I hear.

I congratulate her. Next to marriage,

a girl likes to be crossed
in love a little, now and then.

It is something to talk about, gives her
a sort of prestige among her companions.

When is your turn to come?

Oh father, we must not all hope
for Jane's good fortune.

Oh, that's true, but it
is a comfort to know

that whatever kind of
fortune may befall you,

you have an affectionate mother
who will always make the most of it.

She has, indeed! And what of this one,

who has received a decent offer of
marriage and refuses to accept it?

You, Lizzy? You had an offer and refused?

- I have, papa.
- Tell me, may I ask who is the gentleman?

- Mr. Collins.
- Mr. Collins?!

That silly, stupid man?

Nay, he is a most decent man,
and wishes to be a husband.

And Elizabeth will accept him,
or I will never see her again.

Elizabeth, my child, an unhappy
alternative is before you.

From this day on, you must be a
stranger to one of your own parents.

For your mother will never see you
again if you do not marry Mr. Collins,

and I will never see you again if you do.

Oh! Mr. Bennet, how can
you talk in that way?

You must insist upon her marrying him.

Madam, I have but two
small favors to request.

First, that you will leave me the
freedom of my own consideration;

and secondly, of my own room.

I shall be glad to have the library
to myself as soon as possible.

And as for you, Lizzy, if you go on
refusing every offer of marriage,

you will never get a husband at all,

and I'm sure I don't know who will
maintain you when your father is dead.

I will not be able to keep you.

I warn you, I am done with you
from this very day.

I take no pleasure in talking
to undutiful children.

Indeed, I take little pleasure
in talking to anyone.

People who suffer from
nervous complaints as I do

haven't much inclination for talking.

Nobody knows how I suffer!
But it was always so.

Those who do not complain
are never to be pitied.

Well, Lizzie, since you seem to be
out of favor with your mother,

perhaps I shall have to
send you away from home.

Why, what do you mean, sir?

Well, I received a letter from your
Aunt and Uncle Gardiner in London.

It seems they propose a pleasure of
the north country in the early summer,

and they've asked permission
to take you with them;

that is, of course, if you wish it.

If I wish it! Oh father, no plan
could be more agreeable.

To travel, to see new faces.
Oh father, thank you, thank you!

It is not the object of this work
to give a description of Derbyshire,

nor of any of the remarkable places

through which Elizabeth her
Aunt and Uncle travelled;

Oxford, Warwick, Kenilworth, Birmingham,
are all sufficiently well known.

A small part of Derbyshire
is all the present concern.

To the little town of Lambton, the
former scene of Mrs. Gariner's residence,

and where she had lately learned
some acquintances still remained,

they bent their steps, after having seen
all the principal wonders of the country.

There, within five miles of Lambton,
they heard of a private house and park,

so beautiful, that all who came
that way must stop to see it.

This was Pemberly, the home of Mr. Darcy;

but as Elizabeth approached it,
with her aunt and uncle,

to stroll through the park, and to
be escorted through the house,

she was not aware of
the identity of its owner.

- This was my late master's favorite view.
- Oh, it's delightful.

From here, one may look
upon the whole scene.

And there's no one
living in the house, now?

No, but my master is coming
down for the summer.

We expect him tomorrow,
with a large party of friends.

- You will like that.
- You may be sure, madam.

It's not to my liking to
have Mr. Darcy absent.

Such devo... Did you say Mr. Darcy?

Yes, madam. Do you know Mr. Darcy?

Oh yes. Yes, a little.

Is your master much at Pemberley
in the course of the year?

Not as much as I could wish, sir;

You may take it from me, I wish
he was here more often than he is.

If your master would marry,
you might see more of him.

Yes, but I don't know when that will be.

I don't know anyone
who is good enough for him.

It's very much to his credit, I'm
sure, that you should think so.

I only speak the truth, and what
anybody will say who knows him.

I never had a cross word
from him in my life,

and I've known him ever
since he was four years old.

There is not one of his tenants or servants
but what would give him a good name.

Some people call him proud;
but to my fancy,

it's only because he doesn't rattle
away like other young men.

Why, Mr. Darcy!

Sir, these people have asked to be shown
the house, and this young lady knows...

Miss Bennet, may I express my
pleasure at finding you here?

I trust you have been considerate
of their comfort, Miss Mapes.

You may be sure, sir. But we didn't
expect you until tomorrow, sir.

I came ahead of the others to speak with
you, and to make sure that all is arranged.

It is, sir. All is in readiness.

Thank you. We will speak of it later.

May I ask how long it is
since you left Longbourn?

About two weeks, sir.

- And you left your family well?
- Yes, quite well.

- And how long will you be in Derbyshire?
- We expect a week.

Oh, I beg your pardon. Will you do me the
honor of introducing me to your friends?

They are my relations;
my aunt and my uncle.

Then will you do me the honor of
introducing me to your aunt and uncle?

- Mr. and Mrs. Gardner...

In the days that followed,
in her rambles about Lambton,

Elizabeth unexpectedly met
Mr. Darcy more than once.

She felt all the perverseness
of the mischance

that should bring him
wherever she was;

how it could happen a second time,
and then a third, was very odd.

And then, there came a day,
when her aunt and uncle were away,

and she was alone in their lodgings...

Come in.
Mr. Darcy!

I... I merely came to inquire
after your health.

I'm quite well, thank you.

Good, I hoped to find you well.
Ah, but I intrude...

Oh no. No, I was merely writing
a letter to my sister Jane.

Pray be seated.
- Thank you.

In vain have I struggled. It will not do.

My feelings will not be repressed.

You must allow me to tell you
how ardently I...

...I admire and love you.

It's not easy. This battle within
me has been raging too long.

This tenderness I feel for you
has had to fight against my pride,

against my sense of your inferiority.

In such cases as this, Mr. Darcy,
it is customary to express a sense

of obligation for the sentiments declared,
whether or not they are returned.

And if I could feel gratitude,
I would now thank you. But I cannot.

I have never desired your good opinion,

and you have certainly
bestowed it most unwillingly.

I am quite sure that the disapproval

which has so long prevented you
from acknowledging your attachment,

should have little difficulty
in overcoming your regard.

And this is all the reply which I am
to have the honor of expecting!

I might perhaps wish to be informed why,

with so little endeavour at
civility, I am thus rejected.

And I might inquire, why chose
to tell me that you love me

against your character, against your
reason, and even against your will?

But there are other provocations.

Do you suppose that anything in the world
could persuade me to accept the man,

who has been the means
of ruining, perhaps forever,

the happiness of my most beloved
sister Jane? Can you deny this?

I have no wish of denying that
I did everything in my power

to separate my friend from your sister,
or that I rejoice in my success.

Towards him I have been
kinder than towards myself.

It is not merely this matter of Jane which
my dislike is founded upon, Mr. Darcy.

Your character was further revealed
to me in the recital of your conduct

towards Mr. Wickham.
- What do you know if this?

I know that you have reduced him
to his present state of poverty.

That you've withheld the advantages that
you know to have been designed for him.

Can you deny this, Mr. Darcy?
Can you justify it?

I choose neither to deny, nor to justify.

My faults, according to this
calculation, are heavy indeed.

Perhaps these offences
might have been overlooked,

had not your pride been hurt by the
honest confession of my scruples.

But disguise of every
sort is my abhorrence.

Nor am I ashamed of the feelings I related.

Could you expect me to rejoice in
the inferiority of your connections?

To congratulate myself
on the hope of relations,

whose condition in life is so
decidedly beneath my own?

You're very much mistaken,
Mr. Darcy, if you suppose

that the mode of your declaration
affected me in any way,

except to spare me the concern
which I ordinarily would have felt

in refusing you, had you behaved
in a more gentlemanlike manner.

But from the very beginning, from the first
moment of our meeting, your manners,

your arrogance, your conceit, were
such as to form an intense dislike.

Believe me, you are
the last man in the world

whom I could ever be
persuaded to marry.

Forgive me, Miss Bennet, for
having taken up so much of your time.

Now a brief intermission, and I
have here in the Philco green room,

really one of the great men
of popular music, Mr. Frankie Carle.

You know, Bert, every time
I hear that name, Frankie Carle,

I think of a very beautiful melody
called "A sunrise serenade".

Oh, Bob, I imagine we all do.
That sure is one of my favorites.

But, what just impressed you
and made you compose that?

What inspiration?

Well, Bert, there really
was no inspiration.

It happened one morning at quarter to
five, in a hotel room at Albany, New York.

I got the idea of writing a
distinctive theme for my band,

so I went to the piano, pounded the keys.

Five minutes later,
clerk called up and says,

"If you don't stop pounding the piano,
we'll send up a cop and throw you out."

Well, I went back to the piano,
and sure enough, a while later,

knock on the door, open
the door, there's a cop.

I says, come on in, join the party.

So I went right ahead, finished the
song with the aid of a traffic cop.

- What happened to the traffic cop?
- He's still in Albany giving out tickets.

Yes, and that Frankie Carle
just goes all over the country,

giving out for the beautiful music and
the big hotels and theaters everywhere.

Oh but Bert, but you left out one of the
most important feathres in Frankie's cap.

Oh Bob, I didn't mean to leave it out,
I was just coming to that.

That my friend Frankie Carle
is really one of the great

and most popular recording
artists at Columbia.

That's what I wanted to hear you say.

Frankie?
- Yeah Bob?

You've seen one of these
before, haven't you?

I'd know that blindfolded.

That's one of Columbia's
new 7 inch records,

plays five minutes of solid
music on each side.

And you're absolutely right.

There's something a little more
I'd like to say about these.

You know, Columbia made
the 7 inch records

for popular music and
the small compositions.

And you know the first man
to record on the 7 inch records?

You guessed it: Frankie Carle.

No kidding, Bob, is that my new recording?

Well look, it says right here,
"Let a smile be your umbrella"

by Frankie Carle and his orchestra.

- Small world, isn't it.
- Rather small microgrooves too.

You know, Frankie, this record plays as
much music as two ordinary 10 inch records,

that's about right, isn't it?
- Just about, Bob.

- Let's see now how much does that cost?
- Oh Bob, 60 cents plus tax.

60 cents plus tax, and two 10 inch
records, would be 75 cents,

that's a dollar and a half.
Say, that saves you quite a bit of money!

But definite and plus the great
improvement in quality.

Oh, now you're talking Philco language.

Because here's supreme quality
in a radio phonograph, Frankie.

Look over here. Gives you top
performance in both AM and FM radio.

And over here, it plays the regular records
automatically, and on long playing records

it gives you the greatest reproduction
in the history of recorded music.

Think you can top that?
Man, that's really tough.

And now I'm going to
prove something to you.

How would you like to hear
a bit of your own record?

- I got my ears wide open.
- Well, here we go.

Frankie, how does that sound
to the ear of the old master?

Just about perfect, Bob. I'm a tough
critic when it comes to my own music.

Well, you can't miss with a
musical combination like this:

A high quality record plus
the Philco tone-arm to play it.

And congratulations, you know, I hope
you sell a million of these 7 inch records.

A million? Man, that's
really sweet music.

Well boys, there's the signal
for the third act.

Frankie, sit down here in
the green room with us.

Sit down here, and we'll
see this act together

on that beautiful
Philco television set.

Now for the third act of our play,
"Pride and prejudice",

back to the teller of our story,
Miss Jane Austen.

- Miss Austen?
- Yes.

Installment three. The tumult of
Elizabeth's mind was now painfully great.

But soon she had to put by
her thoughts of Mr. Darcy,

for dreadful news arrived,
to cut short their travels,

and to enforce their immediate
return to Longbourn.

Lydia had eloped with Mr. Wickham,

or rather, she had thrown herself into
his power, and disappeared with him.

For the first intimations that they
had fled to Scotland to be married

had proven false, and all that was known
was that they had gone off together.

They were traced from
Brighton almost to London,

but not beyond.
There, the trail ended.

Have you heard anything, Jane? Any news?

Nothing yet. But now
that my dear uncle

is here, I hope that
everything will be well.

Is your father gone to London
to search for them?

Yes, he went on Tuesday. Poor father,
I never in my life saw him so affected.

And do you hear from him often?

Only once. He wrote on Wednesday,
to say that he arrived safely,

and he would not write again until he
had something of importance to mention.

- And how is poor mama?
- Mother is tolerably well.

She moves about very little,
her nerves are so badly shaken.

But she's waiting for you
now on the chaise.

- Oh, mother, mother, dear mother!
- Oh my dear, sweet child!

Oh my dear, sweet Elizabeth!
Is this not monstruous!

Oh, that wicked, wicked man!
That villainous Mr. Wickham!

I am the most ill-used woman in the world!

Pray control yourself, mother.
Here are your brother and sister.

Oh, my dears, can you think
why this should happen to me?

I have lived blamelessly!

All will be well, do not worry.

How can I not worry?
My poor dear child, my poor dear Lydia!

And did you know that Mr. Wickham has left
debts amounting to thousands of pounds?

He owes everybody in Meryton,
and we are disgraced!

Oh, my poor, dear Lydia, to fall
into the power of such a man!

And now here's Mr. Bennet gone away,

and I know he will find Wickham
and fight him wherever he is,

and he will be killed,
and what will become of us?

Now now, do not give way to false alarm.

I shall be in London tomorrow,
and I shall find Mr. Bennet

and make him come home with me
to Gracechurch Street.

Then we can consult together
as to what is to be done.

Oh my dear brother, that is just
what I would wish for you to do.

And when you get to town, do, pray, find
Lydia and Mr. Wickham, wherever they are!

And if they are not married,
make them marry.

And tell Lydia she may have
as much money as she chooses

to buy wedding clothes...
after they are married.

And above all things,
keep Mr. Bennet from fighting!

Tell him what a state I'm in,
say I cannot rest by night or by day.

Oh, dear dear kind brother!
I know you will contrive all this!

Father! Father, you have returned.
I'm so glad. What news?

They've been found dear,
they've been made man and wife.

- Father! Are they married?
- Yes dear.

Father, you look as though
you had endured much.

Let's not speak of that my dear.
Who should suffer but myself?

It's I who am to blame

Oh, you must not be
so severe upon yourself!

Darling, let me at least think
that I am the one to blame at last!

Oh! Poor Lydia, married to such a man!

Father, how did it happen?
- Money, dear.

Mr. Wickham's debts
have been discharged,

a large sum of money
has been settled upon him,

and he's purchased a commission in a
regiment now quartered in the north.

- All of this?
- All of this, my dear.

Every bit of this, and...

I hardly know how to
explain it to you, dear.

Mr. Darcy, he found them when I had failed.

But what has Mr. Darcy to do with all this?

Because Mr. Darcy paid, my dear.

I protested, and wanted to do all that I
could, but he simply wouldn't hear of it.

- But why should he do this?
- Because he, too, felt a sense of guilt.

He has known the worthlessness
of Mr. Wickham

for many years, for many
years he's known it.

And he has leant him money
on many times before,

just for the sake of a boyhood friendship.

But, my dear, I hardly know
how to explain it to you.

Yes, he could easily have
been misunderstood.

And now my dears.... if you'll find
your mother, and tell her the news.

I fear that I haven't strength enough to.

Mr. Bennet? Jane?
Did I hear your dear father's voice?

Elizabeth? Has your father re...?

Oh, dear Mr. Bennet!
You have returned!

What is the news?
- They are married, my dear.

Married! Oh, my Lydia! What a delight!
Married! Lydia! And so young!

Oh, my dear, dear husband!
I knew you would manage everything.

Oh, how I long to see her! And her
dear husband, too! Dear, dear Wickham!

With the marriage of Lydia, and her
settlement in the North of the country,

calm settled again upon Longbourn,
and upon Mrs. Bennet.

But it was a calm of short duration,
for her mind was opened again to hope

by an article of news which
began to be in circulation.

The housekeeper at Netherfield
had received orders

to prepare for the
arrival of her master;

Mr. Bingley was coming down in a day
or two, for several weeks of shooting.

Jane Bennet was not able to hear
of his coming without changing colour,

but kept assuring her
sister that the news

did not affect her with
either pleasure or pain.

As to Mrs. Bennet...

And now, Mr. Bingley is coming down.

And when he arrives,
you will wait on him, of course.

Oh, no. You talked me
into doing that last year,

and you promised, if I did, that he
would marry one of my daughters.

I will not be talked into
a fool's errand again.

But my dear, such an act
is absolutely necessary!

- It is an etiquette!
- It is an etiquette which I despise.

If he wants our society, let him seek it.
He knows where we live.

Jane! Jane! Jane!

He has arrived!
Mr. Bingley is here!

I see him through the window;

And there is someone with him.

Good gracious! It's Mr. Darcy!
That tall, proud man!

Although any friend of Mr. Bingley's
is welcome here,

else I would say I hate
the very sight of him.

Mr. Darcy. I am a very selfish creature;

and for the sake of giving
relief to my own feelings,

I can no longer help thanking you,

for your unexampled kindness
to my poor sister Lydia.

I am sorry, exceedingly sorry,
that you have ever been informed

of what may, in a mistaken light,
have given you uneasiness.

You must not blame my father for telling
us; he felt very strongly on the matter.

And let me thank you again and again,
for that generous compassion

which induced you to take so much trouble,
and to bear so many mortifications.

If you will thank me,
let it be for yourself.

All was done for your happiness.
Your family owe me nothing.

Much as I respect them,
I believe I thought only of you.

You respect them?

You forget, I became well acquainted
with your father in London.

And you've brought Mr. Bingley back.

Yes. I confessed to him directly,
and told him all that had occurred

to make my former interference
in his affairs absurd and impertinent.

His surprise was great. I don't think
he'd ever had the slightest suspicion.

I told him, moreover, that I
was mistaken in believing,

as I had, that your sister
was indifferent to him,

and that I had no doubt
of their happiness together.

Then you took my word for it.

I shall always take your word.

You are too generous to trifle with me.

If your feelings are still what they
were this summer, tell me so at once.

My affections and wishes are unchanged;

but one word from you will silence
me on this subject forever.

I wonder where Jane and
Mr. Bingley could have gone;

it's half an hour since they set
out to stroll in the garden...

- Yes Mr. Bingley?
- Mr. Bennet, your daughter...

Which daughter, sir? I have
three, one of them married.

The unmarried one, sir, Jane, that is.

Yes? What about Jane?

Well, Jane, sir... and I, sir...

- Wouldn't you like to sit down?
- No. No, no, I'll stand.

I do not know why I have
cause to hope, but I hope...

After I behaved so abominably?

What did you say of me
that I did not deserve?

Although your accusations were
formed on mistaken premises,

my behaviour was abominable.

I cannot think of it without abhorrence.

The behavior of neither of us,
if strictly observed,

would be considered irreproachable.

But since then, I hope we have
both improved in civility.

I cannot be so easily reconciled to myself.

I shall never forget what you said:

"Had you behaved in a more
gentlemanlike manner"

Elizabeth! You taught me a lesson;
by you I was properly humbled.

You showed me how insufficient
were all my pretentions

to please a woman,
worthy of being pleased.

- Mr. Darcy.
- Yes?

You please me.

Oh, Jane, dear I'm so happy!

I knew how it would be. I knew you
couldn't be so beautiful for nothing!

I remember, the first time I saw him
when he came here last year,

I felt you two would come together.

Oh! He is the handomest man
I ever have seen!

- Jane! Jane!

What do you mean?
Oh sister, be serious!

Jane, what is she saying?
Elizabeth, what are you saying?

- Yes? - Mr. Bennet,
I shall come directly to the point.

- Yes?
- I... I...

- You were coming directly to the point.
- Yes. Mr. Bennet, I love your daughter.

Oh, I am sorry, Mr. Darcy, but she
is already promised to Mr. Bingley.

- No, Elizabeth.
- What?

Mr Bennet, this may come as a surprise
to you. I love your daughter Elizabeth.

Mr. Darcy, since I know my daughter
Elizabeth, this does not come

this does not come as a surprise to me.
Won't you sit down, Mr. Darcy.

You? To marry Mr. Darcy?

Lord bless me! Mr. Darcy?
Is it really true?

Oh, my dear sweetest Elizabeth!
How rich and how great you will be!

What you'll have! What pin-money,
what carriages you will have!

I am so pleased! so happy!
Oh my dear, dear Elizabeth!

Such a charming man!
So handsome! So tall!

I apologize for having disliked him
before. I hope he will overlook it.

Oh my dearest, dearest Jane!
Everything so sweet!

A house in town!
Three daughters married!

Oh, Lord, what will become of me?
I shall go distracted!

How could you begin
to fall in love with me?

I can comprehend your going on
charmingly, once you had started;

but what could set you off
in the first place?

I cannot fix on the hour,
or the spot, or the look,

or the words, which
laid the foundation.

It's too long ago. I was in the middle
before I knew that I had begun.

My beauty you had early withstood,

and as for my manners,
they always bordered on the uncivil.

Now, be sincere; did you
love me for my impertinence?

Let us say... for your prejudice...

And I you for your pride...

Oh...!
- What is it?

Do you know, Mr. Darcy?
I have never heard your first name.

- Fitzwilliam.
- Oh, how nice.

Thank you Madge Evans and everyone
of our cast for a swell performance.

To our director, Fred Coe, a deep bow,

and to Harry Sennick who
directed and composed our music.

Next week, we have another real treat
for you. Wait at that television receiver,

and we'll come and visit you
very promptly. Good night now!

Next week, at this same time,
the Philco Television Playhouse

will present Peggy Wood and
Sidney Blackmer in "Dark Hammock",

with Mary Wickes, Mary Orr and an
Actors' Equity Cast of featured players.