Original subtitles

Once upon a time in merry England, there lived an old gentleman who was as happy

as the summer days were long.

He was kind and wise and generous.

And did I mention rich?

Very rich.

A boy without parents.

A boy called Tom.

My Tom Jones.

The boy from nowhere and a girl from the other side of the world.

We could just live happily ever after.

But that would be no fun at all.

For I would have no story to tell.

To begin at the beginning is to begin before I cross the wide ocean to make

these green hills my home.

So let's begin with that kind old gentleman, 20 English summers ago.

His name is Squire John Allworthy.

And tonight, he'll make a choice that will change his life.

A dark night falling at Paradise Hall.

And the squire just home in time for the warmth and safety of his own domain.

Where he's grown accustomed to a lonely bed after many sad losses.

Welcome home to Paradise Hall, squire.

It's late.

Away to bed with you all. I'm sure you've worked long enough today.

Do as you're told.

Thank you, Lord, for the peace and quiet of Paradise Hall.

And, Lord, in sorrow, I pray for the souls of my poor departed wife and our

infant children.

And I pray that one day I should be reunited with them in heaven.

Amen.

A way to bed with you all, huh?

Been on me all day.

Oh, my Lord.

Oh,

I'm so sorry.

Never in my life had to look at a gentleman without his britches. Look,

a gift from God.

Oh, good heavens.

Give the smelly article to me and I'll stick it in a basket and leave it at the

church door.

In the morning, you will find my little one a nurse.

You are never going to keep it, sir.

What will your sister say?

My dear brother, you're never going to keep him.

He was made in the image of God, just like we all were.

We, sir, are not bastards left in the beds of innocent gentlemen by strumpets.

Look at his little face.

The mother must be fine, John.

Some. Poor girl, betrayed by a wicked villain.

She left him with us, Bridget, for the chance of a better life.

Mrs Wilkins can go to the village and find his mother.

She was found in no time.

An unusually bookish girl, housemaid to the village schoolteacher.

Of all the girls in the county, of all the girls in Little Baddington, you.

Jenny Jones, the clever one, the Sunday school girl, the one who is learning

Latin. Lock me away in the House of Correction, if you like. You know, it is

my power as a magistrate to do exactly that. Just don't ask me to tell you his

father is.

I can't.

I won't.

Mr Partridge, your employer will certainly get the blame unless you

truth. I'm not sure he was, sir.

Could have been anybody.

Jenny Jones.

The villain who did this to you.

Tom's a nice name.

Thomas Jones.

Maths pay for his crimes.

Hmm? Jenny?

Do you really have nothing more to say to me?

Omnia vincit amor.

Love conquers all.

That's what your poor mother said as she left, little Tom.

And there's a happy ending.

Not yet.

We've not heard the last of Jenny Jones.

And she was not the only woman at Paradise Hall nursing a romantic secret.

Oh, here comes the trouble.

Deborah, the Lord asks us to think well of all his creation.

The Lord can ask all he likes.

Captain Bliffle, an unexpected pleasure.

Mr. Allworthy, your conduct is the talk of the county, and in the strongest

possible terms.

Sir, I object.

A fatherless nobody?

He has acquired a father. He has acquired me.

I won't have it, my heaven. With respect, Captain Bliffle, we've only

other five minutes, so I hardly think it's up to you. Am I to have no say?

In the morals of the family into which I intend to marry.

Marry?

She's past 40, and he's only after her fortune.

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today in the sight of God.

It had better be a boy.

And that's how little William Bliffle acquired a country estate.

And little Tom Jones acquired a playmate.

Of sorts.

My demand is simple enough.

Husband, you know the offer.

Captain Bliffle, once more, your son is my heir and will one day be lord of

Paradise Hall. I want your further guarantee that the bastard shall only

his servant.

Can we not let the boys be friends?

Boys? No.

That's right, my son.

Show the little cuckoo who's in charge.

Cuckoo!

Cuckoo!

Oh, good Lord.

Captain? Captain Blipple, sir?

Captain? Captain?

Captain? Boys?

From now on, you shall be friends as well as cousins.

William? Tom?

Let nothing on this earth divide you. Tom Jones, you're a rather nasty,

wild, little boy.

Cruelty.

Indifference.

Poor little fellow.

Think of him wandering through the woods.

Your lesson.

In the underglove there.

You see?

No.

Yes. Yeah.

Yes. There. Right. Now, squeeze.

Don't pull.

Gently.

Gently.

You all right?

You call that gentle, do you?

And that was Tom's whole world before I burst into it.

Cold, lost, scared.

Come, Sophia.

Come here, I say.

I arrive into the welcoming arms of a stranger, of an aunt, of a whole new

You've sailed thousands of miles to get here. You could look more enthusiastic.

And those are your grandfather's sheep.

See, Sophia?

The white, fluffy thing?

If you are a good girl, he will give you a lamb to pet.

Now, do you even know what a good girl is? A good English girl is polite and

obedient. And most of all, a good girl is grateful.

Are you listening to me?

You're not supposed to be up there.

Stop it.

Come down.

Can't you hear the pigeons?

No.

You just hit my father's gravestone.

Tom pays no attention in class.

I do my best, sir, but I do prefer to teach boys who want to learn.

Bear with Tom, Mr. Thwackham. He's not a bad boy. He's just a child of nature.

You shall tame him.

No, Mr.

Thwackham!

I'll tell.

Oh, good heavens!

What a welcome.

Father loves pigeon pie.

We're here.

Weston Manor. Please remember to be good.

She never speaks.

Perhaps she is deaf.

Say good afternoon to your grandfather so far.

She's just like him.

I see that.

Just like my poor boy.

Every time I look at her, I see the son who lies buried in a farm field.

You want to be my son?

Tear down from heaven.

Don't cry, Grandfather.

You'll

go

black, George.

See that wing?

No, Tom.

No, that's quite Western's line.

Tom, that's off limits.

You get back here.

You do know they hang porches?

My grandfather hates porches. Well, I'm not a poacher, so it's not a problem.

Liars burn in hell, boy.

The gallows will be too good for you, you thieving little bastard.

Murphy! Leave him alone!

Murphy!

Oh, no, no!

Oh,

my Lord!

I laughed with the pair of them till the tears ran down me face.

Tom! Tom, Mr. Weston signing out on you again.

I had to send her back to her aunt to learn some manners.

Mercy! Mercy!

Well, I thought my last moments had come.

If I had strung you up that day, I'd have broken the hearts of every maiden

the parish.

Everything getting out of him there, did you, Mr Weston?

Child never told you who gave him the gander sheet, did he?

Could it be more obvious, uncle? It was Seagram.

Black George? See, a little hush. It was a long time ago.

Tom, you think we haven't always known it was Black George you were protecting.

Oh, wait, Black George is a sneaking villain? What's been taking the

out of my woods right now?

As magistrate, uncle, surely your duty is to the landowner and to law and

Well said, young man.

I'll have the bugger arrested.

What does it matter about a few pheasants?

Well, the pheasants belong to Squire Weston, and property must be respected,

the world will end.

The world will end soon enough for Black George Seagram if he cannot feed his

family. Well, he should have thought of that before he did what he did.

We must all learn, Tom, to consider the consequences of our actions.

Back again?

Actually, it's your father I need to see. It's important.

You bet.

Come here.

Molly. Molly.

Molly, I mean it. I need to see Black George.

He's gone. Come away.

Do you truly love me, Tom?

Like the clouds love the sky.

Like trumpets love heaven.

Save your German notions for when you end up with a lady in silks and satins.

Well, ladies in silks won't go for fellows like me.

So I'm the best you think you can get?

Fine compliment that is from a gentleman.

I've missed this all so much.

Yes, and you can hear the birds song.

They do very well on a plate.

You're such a Londoner.

I like my comforts, miss.

I like my clean white linen.

I do the Bob Matheson.

Maybe I've got better things to do.

Maya?

Oh, my lovely girl.

Well,

I hope silly life hasn't spoiled you. I'm never leaving home again.

The country.

We can have a little cottage just like my dad's.

I'll need someone to help him with the shooting and the fencing and the manure

and all that kind of men's business.

And I'll have babies.

I keep house just like my mother.

My dad will likely be home now.

You. They ought to string you up.

Rich folk messing with our family. The constables came for her father.

But if you talk to Squire Weston, Father, I'm sure he'll listen.

Don't you understand that I have a duty to uphold the law?

I do.

But it seems so cruel.

We took you in, a wretched foundling.

I loved you and reared you and tried to be a father to you.

No man could have a better father.

And yet you still betray my trust with your constant willfulness.

Black George could be hanged.

You're transported.

His children will starve. I merely stand for what is right.

Kindliness is right.

Generosity of spirit.

You didn't have to tell.

Bliffle, cousin.

All these years when I've tried to be friends. You chose to make your friends

among the lower classes.

If friends is the right word, yes.

You're the heir and I'm the bastard.

But there are no buts, Jones.

Your birth condemns you.

Brutish behavior, you see.

Incapable of controlling your own animal instincts.

I pity you.

The city style.

Is it possibly too fine for breakfast?

Well, you're not actually going to be milking cows, are you, Miss?

I shall wear the pink linen.

Grandfather, I'm sorry.

Should have started without me. Seems to be I've been without you quite long

enough. Excuse me, I didn't send myself away to my aunt.

Don't be cross.

How can I teach you to be a lady?

Well, how can I ever be cross with you?

You back home and hunting tomorrow.

Perfect.

Hunting.

It's just the worst thing about country life.

No, the worst thing about country life is having no friends.

I can't bear it.

I feel sorry for the fox.

I feel sorry for the horses.

I just can't see the point in chasing things that don't want to be caught.

Well,

I'll change your mind when all the handsome young countrymen come calling.

I've come home to look after my grandfather, not chase after young

Has nobody seen to you, young man?

I'm waiting for Squire Weston, Miss.

He plans to hunt tomorrow, so I expect he's in the stables.

Let me call somebody.

What is your name?

Tom Jones.

Miss Weston.

Well, I'm sure I haven't changed nearly half as much as you have, Mr Jones.

I heard you were living in Bristol.

Bath, with my aunt, who, after some years of enormous effort, deems me

suddenly ready for the life of a lady or never going to be ready.

Either way, here I am, back home, and very glad to be so.

I must have picked them for you.

Although I didn't know it, obviously, at the time.

Just baby's breath and... heart thieves.

Um... Can I ask a favour

for an old friend?

It's about Black George Seagram.

A sad tale, Mr Jones.

We certainly can't have entire families thrown on the parish.

No, he's a fine shot.

And a good man at heart.

If Squire Weston were to take him on as a gamekeeper, then he'd never have to

poach again and everyone would be happy.

What a splendidly kind suggestion.

I will pass it on.

This means so much you have no idea.

Miss Weston, I am so grateful.

This is the first thing I've done all week that's gone right.

Look, shall I see you at the hunt?

Oh.

I love hunting.

Lost your heart? Didn't even know it was in danger.

Well?

He is beautiful, Grandfather.

I love him already.

Only as beautiful as his mistress.

Oh, look at you both. The prettiest pair ever to write a hunt. Yeah, I knew it.

Happy now?

One more kindness?

I start work with this choir tomorrow.

You're a good friend to this family, Tom.

Happy to help.

See you at the hunt tomorrow, old friend.

What?

You're growing out of that coat.

We will get you a new one.

More suited to a young gentleman.

Aunt Bridget.

Can a man ever be a gentleman who doesn't know who his father is?

Kindness and good conduct make a true gentleman.

And had Mr. Allworthy not proved himself as good as any father... I don't mean

to be ungrateful.

Just remember, your mother did you a favour you can never repay when she left

you in his care.

Look forward.

Dear nephew.

Not back.

Walton, you never did.

Oh, to wear her with me on the day you married my dad.

Exactly why you should have had more sense.

Thanking you quite a lot.

If a baby comes, I'm not helping. I've got enough to do.

Or me.

You're just jealous.

It is the ladies, the Lord's day.

Are you hurt, sir?

No, I think I'm all right. Thank you, Tom. Oh, Tom.

Take me home, do.

You're a good man, Tom.

After what happened to your grandmother, you'd never abandon a girl.

My only love.

Yes. Of course.

Good Lord. How did that happen?

You do know how babies are made.

Well, I suppose I just thought that... Well, you gave me the impression that

you... It's the gentleman's job to take care of such things. I forgot.

You're no gentleman.

Grandpa, the people are looking at me.

They're admiring your beauty, my love.

Why, you come home the prettiest girl in the county and melted my old heart so

far as to give that villain Black George employment.

Yes, see?

I know how to make you happy.

You've done me a good turn and I won't forget it.

You have Miss Weston to thank for that.

The old fellow dotes on her.

But Molly's secret is out.

She's off to the magistrates for a right telling off.

Are you quite well, my love?

Quite, sir, and I'm happy to be... Fucked away!

You must name the father, Molly.

Well, he must bear to keep you, not the good people of this parish.

Parish won't be troubled, for I shall be married.

I have his promise.

How many rooms you got here, Squire?

I don't know. Why does it matter? We've got three rooms at home.

Think ourselves pretty lucky.

And there's ten of us.

So far.

You must name him. You know who he is.

Molly? Tom?

Molly! Leave her alone! No, no, do not make this worse about violence. This bit

isn't bad enough.

If anyone is guilty here, if anyone's a sinner, it's me. Yes, you're right.

I'm ready to do my duty.

Oh, this is not a children's game, Tom.

I never thought the boy I have loved could disappoint me so much.

Constable, take the girl home.

There'll be no need for the House of Correction today.

Come along, Miss.

Have I not tried to teach you prudence?

Restraint?

Common sense.

I try every day to become more like you.

Well, then you're slow to be a man, not a boy.

I will.

I promise.

Only forgive me, Father, please.

I cannot bear to disappoint you.

You will promise me faithfully you will not see Molly Seagram again.

But, sir, my obligations... If you let by me, I will make her family a generous

offer.

Give them money.

I have loved you like a father, like a son. You will obey me.

Do I have your promise, boy?

Problem is, I don't want to stop.

And neither do you.

I promised my father. You promised me.

Molly, I have nothing.

No money, no parents, no standing.

All I have that's worth anything to me is the love of my father.

Come on.

Where's the arm?

You can't get me pregnant twice.

Mr Jones.

Miss Weston.

Will you let me up, sir?

I should like to do so, but unfortunately I think I may have broken

Tom.

It's nothing.

Set it through, mind, and none of your messing about.

He doesn't have any surgeons.

They're all murderers.

Will you stay?

Grandfather, he must stay until the break is mended.

Not broken. A bit of a sprain is all.

Well,

he must stay anyway.

The shock and so on.

It's the least we can do.

Oh, eh?

Yes, capital idea.

I know Tom to be an excellent boy at heart. And I forgave him because his

apologies were completely sincere.

And because she showed honour and nobility in stepping up to take the

No, Tom wants to do the right thing.

It pains me to say this. Don't.

Will a young man so addicted...

To vice, be capable of recognising the right thing if it jumps up and bites

Mr Jones has always been very generous to the girl's family.

Exactly, Swackham, exactly, thank you. But one has to wonder now, was it just a

trick? Was Jones worming his way into the affections of the father to gain

access to the notorious charms of the daughter?

I took him in.

I brought him up.

I must have faith in him.

I owe Mr. Orwell everything.

I was just a foundling.

A poor servant girl's child and a very fortunate one to be taken in by kind

people. I never knew my

mother or anything about her.

Save that she did not survive my birth.

Common fate for women like her.

And if you ask about my father,

the smell of tobacco, which I like.

In his will, my father granted me my freedom.

Freedom.

I came into this world on a sugar plantation in Jamaica, Mr. Jones.

No child there was born free.

To learn my own father was a man responsible was more than painful.

I was six when I left the island.

Perhaps it's odd that all I remember is that it rained every day and there were

goats.

Dear little goat with sticky up tails.

It almost sounds like you left part of yourself then.

No.

Home is right here.

It's a grandfather that brought me across the ocean.

You know how very fortunate that makes me.

Home is right here for me too.

I never want to leave.

Well, then, enough memory.

Good night, Mr.

Jones. Good night, Miss Whitman.

Are you still here?

Mr. Jones is staying with us, Grandfather.

You invited him.

He's pretty enough.

He's got good teeth, I got you.

But, Miss, I don't trust him. Nonsense.

I found myself telling him all sorts of things I never talk about.

Never even think about.

Miss, you ought to know that it's common knowledge that there's a village girl

with child by him.

Mere gossip from the servants' hall?

Shame on you, Honour, for repeating it.

You... You don't want to be giving your heart to a bad boy, Miss.

He doesn't seem at all bad to me.

He seems kind.

And unlike everyone else around here, he doesn't look at me as though I'm some

kind of exotic flower.

A fine morning, Goodie Seagram. She's not here.

I just need to talk to her.

Talk? Really?

You'll find out what men are like soon enough, Betty.

And you'll find they're not worth the trouble.

Molly?

You're all the same.

Men.

Full of it. Until you've had your wicky way with us and then fling us aside.

I've come to say I can provide for you.

I will provide for you and the child.

Money?

It's not about money.

I'm not your whore.

I loved you.

The first man I've ever loved and now you've ruined me and left me with child.

Please don't, Mr. Twycombe.

It's not how it looks.

Oh, for God's sake.

Hit me.

It's wrong to corrupt an innocent, I agree.

But I didn't do that. To be fair, neither did you.

I was her first love.

You didn't really think the baby was yours.

Don't say you can do better.

Don't say I'm no good for you.

But I'll just say you were my first love, and I'll never think of you

affection.

Go away, Tom.

I'll be fine here with my family.

Oh, and Tom, try to keep it in your britches.

Where's the restaurant?

Tom! I didn't see you there.

Didn't drop it on purpose?

Of course not.

The very idea.

I'd hate you to think. I don't.

I wouldn't.

So far.

Good day to you, Mr Jones.

Keep it forever, I would.

You are a gentleman.

I have looked more.

Oh, the wretch with my own eyes, marching about our neighbour's property

though he owns it, goods and chattels. Everything Jones does and everything he

says betrays his bad blood.

The boy's birth was low indeed, but he has a good heart. And everyone makes

excuses for him, even you, Mother.

William, my dear son, come here.

You had a real father who, for all his faults, gave you his name and a place in

the world.

Tom Jones has nothing and no one.

So what is there to envy?

down a grave.

Well, don't just stand there.

That's really good.

I know.

Well, concentrate, Tom.

Again?

A pretty show this is. I have it as clear.

Arrived in the nick of time.

When I sent Sophia back to you, brother, the child was a credit to her sex.

Pretty, well -mannered, kind, and always tidy.

My little girl is perfect. Not a little girl anymore.

Young gentlemen will flock.

Flock?

Flock!

I... Kill the fucking lot of them. You just let one of them play cricket with

her. Tom?

Tom's no need of flock.

For he'll have any number of village girls happy to pull their skirts up.

Her background is against her. The mother is slave, the father dead of a

fever.

My girl is beautiful.

And she is rich.

Who cares if she be black?

And a bastard too.

Good Lord, brother, the world may care rather a lot.

She must be married without delay.

There must be someone who will take her among the good families hereabouts.

His fortune is not so big as hers.

It's big enough.

You see the little flutterings in

this note?

Oh, she blushes, sir. She is ahead of our plans. That is love already.

Oh, God.

He sits too close.

He looms. Honor he pants.

Marriage made in heaven, then.

I'm not marrying with the Bliffle.

So my sister and I can think of no match we like better.

As long as Miss Western's really concerned.

Who cares if she do or don't?

Well... In a modern world... Well, marry for love.

Did any of us?

Yes, actually, I did.

Send him over with a pretty proposal, and we'll have a wedding by Michaelmas.

Forced to marry a man I do not love?

Will you be the first to congratulate me on my marriage, Jones?

My life's path chosen for me.

She doesn't want you.

Not in a million years.

I know what I want.