All language subtitles for Brideshead Revisited - S01E01 - Et in Arcadia Ego

Here, at the age of 39,

I began to be old.

As I lay in that dark hour,

I was aghast to realize

that something within me
long sickening

had quietly died.

I felt as a husband might feel

who, in the fourth year
of his marriage,

suddenly knew he had no longer
any desire

or tenderness or esteem
for a once-beloved wife.

We had been through it together,
the army and I,

from the first importunate
courtship until now,

when nothing remained to us

except the chill bonds of law
and duty and custom.

We were leaving that day,
and I reflected

that whatever scenes
of desolation lay ahead of us,

I never feared one more brutal
than this.

Left, right, left, right,
left, right, left!

Left, right, left, right, left,
right, left!

So on this morning of our move,

I was entirely indifferent
to our destination.

I would go on with my job,

but I could bring to it
nothing more than acquiescence.

When we had marched into
this camp in the winter of 1943,

I had brought with me a company
of strong and hopeful men.

Word had gone round among them
that we were at last

in transit for the Middle East.

But as the weeks passed
and the snow began to clear,

I saw their disappointment
change to resignation,

and I, who by every precept
should have put heart into them,

how could I help them,
who could so little help myself?

Morning, sir.

Good morning, Sergeant Major.
How's the move going?

Last stores ready for loading
15:00, sir.

Good.
Has Mr. Hooper appeared yet?

Haven't seen him at all
this morning, sir.

Oh.

Has that been entered
into the book?

Wind in the night, sir?

That'll do.

- Morning, Hooper.
- Morning, sir.

I should like to speak
to Mr. Hooper, Sergeant Major.

Very good, sir.

Where the devil have you been?

I told you to inspect the lines.

Am I late? Sorry.

Had a rush
getting my gear together.

That's what you have
a servant for.

Well, I suppose you're right,
strictly speaking.

But you know how it is;
He had his own stuff to do.

The trouble with Desmond

is that if I get
on the wrong side of him,

he takes it out of me
in other ways.

I'm not surprised,
if you're so familiar with him.

Cap badge, Hooper.

Yeah.

C.O.'s orders:

All distinguishing marks
to be removed.

Oh.

And what are you wearing
all that gear for anyway?

You're not in the advance party.

I am.

Aren't I?

Of course you're not.

The orders were changed.

Don't you ever read
the company notice board?

You don't mean
they've changed it all again.

Oh, there you go.

Typical shambles.

Total inefficiency.

They couldn't get away with this
in business, I can tell you.

Hooper, do you mind inspecting
D squad now?

Righty-oh.

And for Christ's sake,
don't say "righty-oh."

Sorry.

I do try to remember.

It just slips out.

C.O. just coming up, sir.

Thank you, Sergeant Major.

Good morning, sir.

Well, Ryder,
everything squared up here?

Yes, I think so, sir.

Think so? You ought to know.

Ahl.

Has that been entered
in barrack damages?

- Not yet, sir.
- Not yet, eh?

I wonder when it would have been
if I hadn't seen it.

Ahal.

Just look at that!

Fine impression that gives

to the regiment
taking over from us.

Don't you know what sets
the standard of a regiment?

The way it leaves camp, Ryder.

Yes, that's bad, sir.

It's a disgrace.

See that everything here
is burned before we leave.

Very good, sir.

Sergeant Major, will you
send over to the carrier platoon

and tell Captain Brown
that the C.O.

would very much like
this ditch cleared up?

Right, sir.

Remind me, Ryder,

what were you in civilian life?

I was a painter, sir.

You shouldn't do it, sir.
You shouldn't, really.

That's not our rubbish.

Maybe it's not, sir,
but you know how it is.

If you get on the wrong side
of senior officers,

they'll take it out of you
in other ways.

This is top security.

If I find any of those female
camp followers when we arrive,

I shall know there's been
a leakage.

Right, sir.
I'll see there's a new order.

I called my wife last night.

She hasn't the slightest idea
where I am.

Doesn't make sense.

That's the third time
we've copped it this week.

They're picking on you, old boy.

How is the family, by the way?

The children sound
a bit difficult.

Jennifer says
they always turn into monsters

the minute my leave is over.

That young officer over there,
isn't he one of yours?

- Yes, sir.
- What's his name again?

Lieutenant Hooper, sir.

His hair needs cutting.

He's in no shape
to go to a new HQ.

I'll tell him, sir.

That's the sort of thing, Ryder,

that lets down the regiment.

It does, sir.
I'll see that it's done.

My God,
the officers they send us now.

In my late regiment,
if a young officer was intending

to go to a new HQ like that,
the other subalterns

would bloody well
have cut his hair for himl.

Would they, sir?

I'll tell you something, Ryder.

I do not intend to have

my professional reputation
compromised

by the slack appearance
of a few temporary officersl.

- Corporal Deakin?
- Yes, sir.

- Get a pair of scissors.
- Very good.

- Lieutenant James?
- Sir?

Cut that man's hair for him.

Sir?

I said cut that man's hair
for him.

I'm sorry, sir.
I don't quite understand.

Is that an order, sir?

It is your
commander officer's wish,

and that's the best kind
of order I know.

Go on. Get him tidied up!

We're going to tidy you up
a bit.

Sit down, Mr. Hooper.

Your scissors, sir.

Give them to Lieutenant James.

Can't you understand an order?
Get on with it!

Go on. Start cutting it.

Carry on. Keep at it.

Cut it!

Company, gol.

Company, slope armsl.

Company will move to the left
in threes.

Left turnl.

Company, by the left,
quick marchl.

I'm sorry about your hair,
Hooper.

Oh, that's all right.

It's not the sort of thing

that used to happen
in this regiment.

No hard feelings.
I can take a bit of sport.

I say, any idea
where we're off to?

None.

Do you think
it's the real thing?

No.

Just another flap?

Yes.

Everyone's been saying
we're for it.

I don't know what to think,
really.

It happens so often.

I wouldn't argue with that.

Three times
in the last six months.

Seems so silly somehow,
all this drill and training

if we never go into action.

I shouldn't worry, Hooper.

There'll be plenty for everyone
in time.

Oh, I don't want much, you know,

just enough to say
I've been in it.

♪ Gassed last night ♪

♪ And gassed the night before ♪

♪ We're going to get gassed
tonight ♪

♪ Then we never get gassed
anymore ♪

♪ When we're gassed,
we're sick as we can be ♪

♪ Can't stop the bombing blitz
from higher Germany ♪

♪ They're over us,
they're over us ♪

What the hell's going on?

We are being sprayed
by liquid mustard gas.

It's the C.O.'s joke.

Hooper, can you see
that the windows are shut?

Check there are no casualties.

And write me
a short situation report.

C Company is to drive on
for a bit, sir.

Take the right fork.

You'll see a dump post
on the road.

Morning, Ryder.
Can I have a lift?

It's not a bad camp, apparently.

Big private house
with two or three lakes.

Looks as if we might get
some duck if we're lucky.

Excellent. In the back, Hooper.

Morning, Hooper.

Quick march.

Right, you lot. Get it moving.

- Morning, Sergeant.
- Morning, sir.

Does anybody know where we are?

Not officially, sir,

but I did hear someone mentions
the name of the house.

It's a place called Brideshead.

You can see it from over there.

Huge great barrack of a place.

Thank you, Sergeant. Carry on.

Thank you, sir.

Right, you lot.

At the double. Come on.

It was as though someone
had switched off the wireless

and a voice that had been
bawling in my ears

incessantly, fatuously,
for days beyond number

had been suddenly cut short.

An immense silence followed,

empty at first but gradually
filled with a multitude

of sweet, natural,
and long-forgotten sounds,

for he had spoken a name
that was so familiar to me,

a conjurer's name
of such ancient power

that at its mere sound,

the phantoms
of those haunted late years

began to take flight.

Where are you off to, Hooper?

B company have relieved us.

I've just sent the chaps off
to get cleaned up.

Good.

Brigade headquarters
are coming here next week.

I've just had a snoop
around the house.

Very ornate, I'd call it.

And a queer thing:

There's a sort of RC church
attached to it.

I had a look in.

There was a kind of service
going on,

just the padre and one old man.

I felt very awkward.

More in your line than mine.

There's a frightful great
fountain thing too out the back,

all rocks and carved old men
with trumpets.

You never saw such a thing.

Yes, Hooper, I did.

I've been here before.

Oh, well,
you'll know all about it, then.

I'll just go
and get myself cleaned up.

See you, Ryder.

I had been there before.

I knew all about it.

First with Sebastian
more than 20 years ago

on a cloudless day in June.

That day, too, I had come
not knowing my destination.

Oxford, in those days,
was still a city of aquatint.

When the chestnut was in flower
and the bells rang out

high and clear
over her gables and cupolas,

she exhaled the soft airs
of centuries of youth.

It was this cloistral hush that
gave our laughter its resonance

and carried it still joyously
over the intervening clamor.

It was Eights Week.

Here, discordantly,
came a rabble of womankind.

Echoes of the intruders
penetrated every corner,

and my own college
was no exception.

We were giving a ball.

Morning, Lunt.

Morning, Mr. Ryder.

Ah, thank you.

Gentlemen who haven't got ladies

are asked to eat out
as far as possible

in the next few days.

Will you be lunching in?

No, Lunt.

To give the servants a chance,
they say.

Huhl What a chancel

I've got to buy a pincushion
for the ladies' cloakroom.

What do they want with dancing?

I don't see the reason in it.

There's never been dancing
before in Eights Week.

As if the teas and the river
weren't enough.

If you ask me, sir,
it's all on account of the war.

It couldn't have happened
but for that.

Now, wine in the evening

or one or two gentlemen
for luncheon,

I can see the reasoning.

But not dancing.

It came in with them
back from the war.

They were too old,

they didn't know,
and they wouldn't learn.

Take my word.

And there's some
what goes dancing

with the town at the Masonic,

but the proctor will have them;
You'll see.

Ah, here's Lord Sebastian.

Well, I mustn't stand here
talking,

not with pincushions to get.

Good morning, Lunt.

Charles, what in the world
is happening at your college?

Is there a circus?

I've seen everything
except elephants.

I must say, the whole of Oxford

is becoming very peculiar
suddenly.

Last night, it was pullulating
with women.

You're to come away with me
at once, out of danger.

I've a motorcar outside,
a basket of strawberries,

and a bottle
of Chateau Peyraguey,

which is not a wine you've
ever tasted, so don't pretend.

It's heaven with strawberries.

I shall go and get my things.

And bring some money in case
we see anything we want to buy.

Yes.

"Does anyone feel
the same emotion

"for a butterfly or a flower

as he feels for a cathedral
or a picture?"

Yes. I do.

Ready?

Yes.

It's over there.

- Isn't it early?
- Yesl.

The women are still doing

whatever women do
before they come downstairs.

Sloth has undone them.
We're away.

Where are we going?

To see a friend.

Now, take care of Aloysius.

Make sure he isn't sick.

Where did you get the car?

Property of a very gloomy man
called...

Hardcastle.

Do please return the bits to him
if I kill myself.

I'm not very good at driving.

God bless Hardcastlel.

Whoever he may bel.

He was supposed
to be coming with us.

Well, I did tell him 10:00.

But he was still in bed at 8:00,

so I thought-l thought,
"Well, he's not very eager.

Much kinder to go without him."

Oh, it's a pity
neither of us can sing.

It was about 11:00
when Sebastian,

without warning, turned the car
into a cart track and stopped.

We ate the strawberries
and drank the wine.

As Sebastian promised,
they were delicious together.

The fumes
of the sweet golden wine

seemed to lift us
a finger's breadth

above the turf
and hold us suspended.

Just the place to bury
a crock of gold.

I should like to bury
something precious

in every place
that I've been happy

so that when I'm old and ugly
and miserable,

I could come back and dig it up
and remember.

This was my third term
at university,

but I date my Oxford life

from my first meeting
with Sebastian,

which had happened by chance

in the middle
of the term before.

We were in different colleges
and came from different schools,

so I might well have spent
my three or four years

in university
and never have met him

but for the chance
of his getting drunk

one evening in my college

and of my having
ground-floor rooms

in the front quadrangle.

I had been warned of the dangers
of these rooms

by my cousin Jasper, who alone,
when I first came up,

thought me a subject
for detailed guidance.

So what are you reading?

History.

Oh, that's a perfectly
respectable school.

The very worst
is English Literature.

The next worst is Modern Greats.

You want either a first
or a fourth;

There is no value
in anything between.

Time spent on a good second
is time thrown away.

You should go
to the very best lectures-

Arkwright on Demosthenes,
for instance-

irrespective of whether
they're in your school or not.

Dress as you do
in a country house.

Never wear a tweed jacket
and flannel trousers.

Always wear a suit.

And go to a London tailor;

You get better cut
and longer credit.

Good afternoon, sir.

Don't treat dons
like schoolmasters.

Treat them as you would
the vicar at home.

Join the Carlton now

and the Grid at the beginning
of your second year.

If you want to run
for the Union,

it's not a bad idea.

Make your reputation
outside first

at the Chatham or the Canning.

Oh, and keep clear
of Boar's Hill.

- Good afternoon, Ryder.
- Hello.

And friends-

Charles, do watch the people
you make friends with.

You'll find you spend
your second year

getting rid
of the undesirable ones

you made in your first.

Oh, and beware
of Anglo-Catholics.

They're all sodomites
with unpleasant accents.

In fact, steer clear
of all religious groups.

They do nothing but harm.

I say, was this here
when you arrived?

No, it's mine.

I put it up.

It's Van Gogh.

Really?

This is very pretty.

Well, I must be off.

I've got a JCR meeting
at half past.

Oh, by the way, one last point.

Change your rooms.

But I was lucky to get them.

Ground-floor rooms
on the front quad.

Terribly dangerous.
I've seen men ruined.

People start dropping in.

They leave their gowns here

then pick them up
on the way to hall.

Then you'll start
giving them sherry.

Before you know where you are,
you'll have opened a free bar

to all the undesirables
in the college.

I do not know

that I ever consciously followed
any of this advice.

I certainly never changed
my rooms.

There were gillyflowers growing
below the windows,

which on summer evenings,
filled them with fragrance.

But that's the complete fallacy

of modern aesthetics, Charles.

Can't you see?

You mean, the whole argument
of significant form

stands or falls by volume?

Precisely.

If you allow Cezanne
to represent a third dimension

in his two-dimensional canvas,

then you must allow Landseer
his gleam of loyalty

in the spaniel's eye.

My earliest friends
were Collins-

a Wykehamist and an embryo don,

a man of solid reading
and childlike humor-

and a small circle
of college intellectuals

who maintained a middle course
of culture

between the flamboyant aesthetes
and the proletarian scholars.

It was by this circle
that I found myself adopted

during my first term.

They provided the kind
of company I had enjoyed

in the sixth form at school

and for which the sixth form
had prepared me.

But even in the earliest days,

when the whole business
of living at Oxford

with rooms of my own
and my own checkbook

was a source of excitement,

I felt at heart

that this was not all
which Oxford had to offer.

I knew Sebastian by sight
long before I met him.

That was unavoidable,
for from his first week,

he was the most conspicuous man
of his year

by reason of his beauty,
which was arresting,

and his eccentricities
of behavior,

which seemed to know no bounds.

My first sight of him
was in the door of Germer's,

and on that occasion,
I was struck less by his looks

than by the fact that he was
carrying a large teddy bear.

- Sheer exhibitionism.
- Hmm.

That was Lord Sebastian Flyte,
a most amusing young gentleman.

Apparently.

This way, sir.

He's the Marquess of Marchmain's
second boy.

His brother,
the Earl of Brideshead,

went down last term.

Oh, he was very different,
quite like an old man.

What do you suppose
Lord Sebastian wanted?

A hairbrush for his teddy bear.

It had to have
very stiff bristles.

Not, Lord Sebastian said,
to brush him with

but to threaten him with
a spanking when he was sulky.

He bought a very nice one
with an ivory back,

and he's going to have
"Aloysius" engraved on it.

That's the teddy bear's name.

The barber, who, in his time,
had had ample chance

to tire of undergraduate
fantasy,

was plainly captivated by him.

L, however, remained censorious.

And subsequent glimpses of him
did not soften me,

although Collins,
who was reading Freud,

had a number of technical terms
to cover everything.

Nor, when at last we met,

were the circumstances
propitious.

Once we reduce chance
to a mathematical formula,

we may subject it to the rules
of probability.

And, indeed, we rob chance
itself, therefore,

of the element of chance, which,
if you see what I mean,

must seem a solution
of quite impregnable logic.

- Oh, very good.
- Excellent paper.

Very good.

Thank you very much.

There was a question?

I wanted simply to ask
if the laws of mathematics

can be understood by reason-

- I think I can anticipate
your question.

If the possibility exists
that chance itself exists

in a rational universe,
then the workings of chance

must be explained
by rational processes.

If we believe that God created
this rational world,

then it's perfectly possible
to believe-

- Who are those awful people?

What are they doing in there?

Looks like a bloody
prayer meeting to me.

Look, if God
is ultimately responsible

for formulating
Newton's law of gravity,

may He not, so runs my argument,

fulfill His purpose
by using the infinite instances

which we call chance?

Shouldn't we say, then,

that chance
is the very basic principle

of our life
in this rational univer-

- All right, old man.

I trust that you will forgive
my friend.

The wines were too various.

It was neither the quality
nor the quantity

that was at fault;
It was the mixture.

Grasp that, and you have
the very root of the matter.

To understand all
is to forgive all.

Yes.

Hey!

A couple of jugs
of mulled claret,

and this has to happen.

You couldn't even get
to the window, could you?

Them that can't keep it down
are better without it.

It wasn't one of my party.

It was someone
from out of college.

Yes, well, it's just as nasty
to clear up, whoever it was.

There's five shillings
on the sideboard.

So I saw, and thank you.

But I'd rather not have
the money

and not have the mess
in the morning.

With the restoration
of the monarch,

the Age of Puritanism
was finally vanquished.

I took my gown
and left him to his task.

In those days, I still
frequented the lecture room.

And female players,
hitherto unknown,

appeared upon the English stage
for the first time

in the history of English drama.

There was an air of relaxation
in the land again.

Indeed, this novel feeling
of unaccustomed freedom

manifested itself
in a remarkable outburst

of artistic creativity.

Have you seen your room?

Lunt, what is all this?

The gentleman
from last night, sir.

He left that note for you.

"I'm very contrite.

"Aloysius won't speak to me
until he sees I am forgiven,

"so please come
to luncheon today.

Sebastian Flyte."

A most amusing
young gentleman, sir.

I'm sure it's a pleasure
to clean up after him.

I take it
you're lunching out, sir.

I told Mr. Collins
and Mr. Partridge so.

They wanted to take
their commons in here with you.

Yes, Lunt. Lunching out.

Oh, do take some flowers
for yourself...

and Mrs. Lunt, if you'd care to.

Oh, thank you, sir.

There is no Mrs. Lunt.

I went there uncertainly,
for it was foreign ground,

and there was a tiny priggish
warning voice in my ear

which, in the tones of Collins,

told me it was seemly
to hold back.

But I was in search of love
in those days,

and I went, full of curiosity

and the faint unrecognized
apprehension that here, at last,

I should find that low door
in the wall

others I knew
had found before me,

which opened on an enclosed
and enchanted garden

which was somewhere
not overlooked by any window

in the heart of that gray city.

I've just counted them.

There are five each
and two over,

so I'm having the two.

I'm unaccountably hungry today.

I placed myself unreservedly
in the hands

of that obliging little chemist
in the High,

and now I feel so drugged that
I've almost begun to believe

that the whole of
yesterday evening was a dream.

Please don't wake me up.

Hello.

Hello.

Let's have some champagne.

Thank you for the flowers.

My room looks like a hothouse.

My beastly scout
has put Aloysius to bed,

which is probably just as well,

since there won't be
any plovers' eggs for him.

Do you know
Hobson hates Aloysius?

I wish I had a scout like yours.

He was perfectly sweet to me
this morning,

when some people might have been
quite strict.

How did you get home
in one piece last night?

There was the most frightful
rumpus outside my staircase,

so I assumed it must be you.

Nonsense. We were quiet as mice.

Damn close thing, though.

As each guest came
into the room,

he made first
for the plovers' eggs

then noticed Sebastian
and then myself

with a polite lack of curiosity
which seemed to say,

"We should not dream of being
so offensive as to suggest

that you never met us before."

I say, plovers' eggs.

The first I've seen this year.

Where did you get them?

Mummy sent them from Brideshead.

They always lay early for her.

We were eating
the lobster thermidor

when the last guest arrived.

My dears,
I couldn't get away before.

I was lunching
with my p-p-preposterous tutor.

He thought it very odd,
my leaving when I did.

I t-told him I had to change
for footer.

Come and sit down.

I'm afraid I've already eaten
your eggs.

Oh.

Oh, I forgot.
You don't know Charles Ryder.

Hello.

No.

Anthony Blanche.

But I have the most delicious
feeling I'm going to.

Oh, my God, Blanchel

it's all over the house,
you know.

What is?

My dear boy, the news

that you have finally lost
your virginity-

or, perhaps I should say,
mislaid it.

You put my own grandes passions
quite in the shade.

What are you rattling on about,

you appalling dago?

If you're going to be horrid

about my c-cosmopolitan
upbringing,

I shall tell how you borrowed
300 francs

to spend a torrid night with
that elderly drab in Le Touquet.

It was a niggardly sum
to pay for her trouble.

And what a trouble.

Charles, don't look so serious.

You don't mean to say

you let Boy have a go
at your duchess?

My affair
with the Duchess of Vincennes

was on an altogether
higher plane

than any of you hobbledehoys
can conceive.

Do you know what it was
that cemented our love?

We used the same colored varnish
for our toenails.

"The time is now propitious,
as he guesses.

"The meal is ended.

"She is bored and tired.

"Endeavors to engage her
in caresses

"which still are unreproved,
if undesired.

"Flushed and decided,
he assaults at once.

"Exploring hands
encounter no defense.

"His vanity requires no response

"and makes a welcome
of indifference.

"And I, Tiresias,
have foresuffered all

"enacted on this same divan
or bed.

"L, who have sat by Thebes
below the wall

"and walked among the l-l-lowest
of the dead.

"Bestows one final
patronizing kiss

and gropes his way,
finding the stairs unlit."

How I have surprised them.

All boatmen are Grace Darlings
to me.

Hi, old boy.

Too much, certainly. Too much.

Too much.

Now we have to cope
with these terrible stairs.

Something will have to be done
about that damn nancy boy.

You can count me out.

My dear, I should like
to stick you

full of barbed arrows
like a pincushion.

I think it's perfectly brilliant
of Sebastian

to have discovered you.

Where do you lurk?

I shall come down your burrow
and chivvy you out

like an old s-s-stoat.

Au revoir.

Well...

I'd better be off too.

Thank you very much.

Have some more Cointreau.

Then I must go
to the botanical gardens.

Why?

To see the ivy.

I've never been
to the botanical gardens.

Oh, Charles, what a lot
you have to learn.

There are more kinds of ivy
than I ever knew existed.

I don't know where I should be
without the botanical gardens.

When at length I returned
to my rooms,

I found them exactly
as I had left them that morning,

but I detected a jejune air
that had not irked me before.

Nothing except the golden
daffodils seemed to be real.

If you ask me, sir,

I was never very fond
of that myself.

I suppose you'll be wanting me
to get rid of it next,

though where I'd have room
for it

is nobody's business.

That day was the beginning
of my friendship with Sebastian.

And thus it came about
that morning in June

that I was lying beside him
in the shade of the high elms,

watching the smoke from his lips
drift into the branches.

You still haven't told me
where we're going.

Don't be so impatient, Charles.

I told you. To see a friend.

Yes, but who's the friend?

Name of Hawkins.

But who is Hawkins?

Wait and see.

Well?

What a place to live in.

It's where my family live.

Don't worry; They're all away.

You won't have to meet them.

But I should like to.

Well, you can't.
They're in London, dancing.

Everything's shut up.

We'd better go in this way.

I want you to meet
Nanny Hawkins.

That's what we've come for.

Well, this is a surprise.

Who's this?
I don't think I know him.

This is Mr. Charles Ryder,
Nanny,

a friend of mine from Oxford.

Oh.

How do you do, Mrs. Hawkins?

How do you do?

You've come just the right time.

Julia's here for the day.

She was up with me
nearly all the morning,

telling me about London.

Such a time they're all having.

You must have just missed her.

It's the Conservative women.

She won't be long.

She's leaving immediately after
her speech, before the tea.

I'm afraid we may miss her
again, Nanny.

Oh, don't do that, dear.

It'll be such a surprise to her,
seeing you,

though she ought to wait
for the tea.

I told her, it's what
the Conservative women come for.

Well, what's the news?

Are you studying hard
at your books?

Not very, I'm afraid, Nanny.

Mm, cricketing all day long,
I expect, like your brother.

He found time to study too,
though.

Oh, did you see that piece
about Julia in the paper?

She brought it down for me.

Not that it's nearly good enough
of her,

but what it says is very nice.

"The lovely daughter

"whom Lady Marchmain
is bringing out this season,

witty as well as ornamental,
the most popular debutante."

Well, that's no more
than the truth,

though it was a shame
to cut her hair.

Such a lovely head of hair
she had,

just like her Ladyship's.

I said to Father Phipps,
"it's not natural."

He said...

Sebastian and the old woman
talked on.

It was a charming room.

Laid out
on top of the mantelpiece

were a collection
of small presents

which had been brought to her
at various times

by her children,

the souvenirs of many holidays.

Presently, it was time for tea.

Look, Nanny, I'm afraid
we can't stay for tea.

We really must get back.

Oh.

Oh, Julia will be upset
when she hears.

It would have been
such a surprise for her.

Good-bye, Nanny.

Bye, love.

Come on, Charles.

- Good-bye.
- Good-bye.

Poor Nanny.

She does lead such a dull life.

I've a good mind to bring her
to Oxford to live with me,

only she'd always be trying
to send me to church.

We must go quickly
before my sister gets back.

Who are you ashamed of,
her or me?

I'm ashamed of myself.

I'm not going to let you get
mixed up with my family.

They're so madly charming.

All my life, they've been
taking things away from me.

If they once got hold of you
with their charm,

they'd make you their friend
and not mine,

and I won't let them.

All right.

I'm perfectly content.

But aren't we going to see
some more of the house?

It's all shut up.
We came to see Nanny.

On Queen Alexandra's day,
it's all open for a shilling.

Come and look, if you want to.

Well, it's all like this,
you see.

Nothing to see.

A few pretty things
I'd like to show you some day.

Not now.

But there's the chapel.
You must see that.

This way.

Why'd you do that?

Just good manners.

Well, you needn't on my account.

So you wanted to do sightseeing.

What do you think of this?

Golly.

Papa had it restored for Mama.

As a wedding present.

Julia.

We only just got away in time.

I'm sorry.

I'm afraid I wasn't
very nice this afternoon.

Brideshead often has
that effect on me.

But I had to take you
to see Nanny.

I don't keep asking you
questions about your family.

Neither do I about yours.

But you look so inquisitive.

You're so mysterious about them.

I'd hoped I was mysterious
about everything.

Perhaps I am rather curious
about people's families.

You see, it's not a thing
I know much about.

There's only my father
and myself.

An aunt used to keep an eye
on me,

but my father drove her abroad.

You don't know
what you've been saved.

There are lots of us.

Look them up in Debrett.

I had lived a lonely childhood

and a boyhood
straightened by war

and overshadowed by bereavement.

To the hard bachelordom
of English adolescence,

the premature dignity and
authority of the school system,

I had added a sad and grim
strain of my own.

Now, that summer term
with Sebastian,

it seemed as though
I was being given a brief spell

of what I had never known,
a happy childhood.

And though its toys
were silk shirts

and liqueurs and cigars

and its naughtiness high
in the catalog of grave sins,

there was something
of a nursery freshness about us

that fell little short
of the joy of innocence.

Towards the end of that term,
I took my first exams.

It was necessary to pass
if I was to remain at Oxford,

and pass I did

after a week in which
I forbade Sebastian my rooms

and sat up to a late hour
with iced black coffee

and charcoal biscuits,

cramming myself
with neglected texts.

I remember no syllable
of them now,

but the other, more ancient love
which I acquired that term

will be with me
in one shape or another

till my last hour.

The end of that term was also
the occasion of the last visit

and grand remonstrance
of my cousin Jasper.

I was just free of the schools,
having taken

the last paper of History
previous the day before.

Jasper's subfusc suit
and white tie

proclaimed him
still in the thick of it.

He had the exhausted
but resentful air

of one who fears he has failed
to do himself full justice

of the subject
of Pindar's Orphisms.

Duty alone had brought him
to my rooms

at great inconvenience
to himself

and, as it happened, to me.

I don't know what sort
of allowance my uncle makes you,

but you must be spending double.

Is that paid for?

Or these?

Or this peculiarly noisome
object?

Yes, I had to pay cash
for the skull.

And your clothes.

Your present getup seems
an unhappy compromise

between the correct wear

for a theatrical garden party
in Maidenhead

and a glee singing competition
in a garden suburb.

I'm sorry if it disturbs you.

And drink!

No one minds a man getting tight
once or twice a term.

In fact, he ought to,
on certain occasions.

But you, my dear Charles,

are constantly seen drunk
in the middle of the afternoonl

I think that's my affair,
Jasper.

Look, Charles,

I expected you to make mistakes

in your first year.

We all do.

I got in with some thoroughly
objectionable

Christian Union men who ran
a mission to hop-pickers

during the long vac.

But you, my dear Charles,
whether you realize it or not,

have gone hook, line, and sinker

to the very worst set
in the university.

So that's what's worrying you.

Well, Anthony Blanche.

There's a man there's absolutely
no excuse for.

I don't particularly
like him myself.

Well, he's certainly always
hanging about here.

You realize, the stiffer element
in college don't like it.

They won't stand for him
at the house.

They threw him in Mercury
last night.

I heard.

You may think
that living in digs,

I don't know what goes on
in college,

but I hear things.

In fact, I hear too much.

I find I've become
a figure of mockery

on your account
at the Dining Club.

And then there's that chap
Sebastian Flyte

you seem inseparable from.

Well, he may be all right;
I don't know.

His brother, Brideshead,
was a very sound fellow.

But this friend of yours,
well, he looks odd to me,

and he gets himself
talked about.

I'm sorry, Jasper.

I know it must be embarrassing
for you,

but I happen to like
this bad set.

I like getting drunk
at luncheon.

And although
I haven't quite spent

double my allowance yet,

I undoubtedly shall
by the end of term.

Will you join me?

I usually have a glass
of champagne about this time.

If you stay, you might meet
the despicable Mr. Blanche.

I'm dining with him tonight.

No, thank you.

L-

I have Greek History and Morals
on Monday.

So my cousin Jasper despaired.

Looking back,

there is little I would have
left undone or done otherwise.

Perhaps now I could match

my cousin Jasper's
gamecock maturity

with a sturdier fowl.

I could tell him that to know
and love one other human being

is the root of all wisdom.

Two for you...

and two for me.

Yum, yum.

I expect
you would prefer sherry,

but, my dear Charles,

you are not going
to have sherry.

You're going to try this
delicious concoction instead.

What is it?

Brandy Alexander.

You don't like it?

Then I'll drink it for you.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Down the little red lane
they go.

How the students stare.

I'm not surprised, Anthony.

I'm a little out of sympathy
with the undergraduates

for the moment.

That's why we're dining
at Thame.

- Who else is coming?
- No one.

I've got you to myself tonight.

There's a delightful hotel there
which, luckily,

doesn't appeal to the hearties
of the Bullingdon.

You heard what they did to me
last night?

Yes, I-

- it's too naughty.

It was not, I knew,
the first time

that Anthony had been ducked.

But the incident seemed
much on his mind.

I didn't want them to start
getting rough,

so I said to them pacifically,
"Dear, sweet clodhoppers,

"if you knew anything
of sexual psychology,

"you would know that nothing
could give me keener pleasure

"than to be manhandled
by you meaty boys.

"Ecstasy of the naughtiest kind.

"If any of you wishes
to be my partner in joy,

"then come and seize me.

"If, on the other hand,
you wish to satisfy some obscure

"and less easily classified
libido,

then come with me quietly
to the water."

So I just got in the fountain,

and, do you know,
it really was rather refreshing.

So I sported there
and struck some attitudes.

Oh, la fatigue du Nord!

Now, you can't imagine
an unpleasantness like that

happening to Sebastian, can you?

- No, I can't.
- No.

Sebastian has charm, such charm.

Of course, you haven't known him
as long as I have.

How long have you known him,
Anthony?

I was at school with him.

You wouldn't believe it,
but in those days,

people used to say
he was a little bitch.

The rest of us were constantly
being beaten

in the most savage way
on the most frivolous pretexts,

but never Sebastian.

I can see him now
at the age of 15.

He never had spots, you know.

Boy Mulcaster was positively
scrofulous,

but not Sebastian.

Or did he have one
rather a stubborn one

at the back of his neck?

Yes, now I think of it, he did.

Narcissus with one pustule.

You know, he and I
were both Catholics,

so we used to go to mass
together.

He used to spend such time
in the confessional,

I used to wonder
what he had to say,

because he never did anything
wrong, never quite.

At least he never got punished.

Perhaps he was just being
charming through the grill.

I told Cocktail all about you.

He's absolutely agog.

You see, my dear Charles,
you are that very rare thing:

An artist.

But who recognizes you?

The other day, I told Sebastian

that you drew
like a young lngres.

And do you know what he said?

"Yes, Aloysius draws
very prettily too,

but of course,
he's rather more modern."

So charming, so amusing.

Do you wish
Sebastian was with us?

- No.
- Of course you do.

And do I? I w-w-wonder.

Hmm, how our thoughts do run
on that little bundle of charm,

to be sure.

I think you must be
mesmerizing me, Charles.

I bring you here,
at very considerable expense,

simply to talk about myself,

and I find I talk of no one
except Sebastian.

It's odd, because there's really
no mystery about him,

except how he came to be born
of such a very sinister family.

It's when one gets
to the parents

that a bottomless pit opens.

My dear, such a pair.

They were married
for 15 years or so,

and then Lord Marchmain
went off to war.

He never came back

but formed a connection
with a highly talented dancer.

Why doesn't she divorce him?

Because she's so pious.

My dear, you would think
that old reprobate

had tortured her;
Stolen her patrimony;

Flung her out of doors;

Roasted, stuffed,
and eaten her children;

And gone frolicking about
wreathed in all the flowers

of Sodom and Gomorrah.

She's a bloodsucker, my dear,
a b-bloodsucker.

You can see the tooth marks
on all her victims.

It's witchcraft.
There's no other explanation.

So, you see, we mustn't
altogether blame Sebastian.

For what?

For seeming a little insipid.

But then, of course,
you d-don't blame Sebastian,

do you, Charles?

With that very murky background,
what could he do

except set up
as being simple and charming,

particularly as he isn't very
well endowed in the top story.

We couldn't claim that for him,
could we, Charles,

much as we love him?

Tell me candidly,

have you ever heard Sebastian
say anything

that you have remembered
for more than five minutes, hmm?

You know, when I hear him talk,

I'm reminded of that
nauseating picture Bubbles.

Conversation should be
like juggling.

Up go the balls and plates,

up and over, in and out,
glittering in the footlights.

But when dear Sebastian speaks,

it is like a little sphere
of soapsud

drifting off the end
of an old clay pipe,

full of rainbow light
for a second

and then... fft!

Vanished
with nothing left at all.

Nothing.

Shall we go, Anthony?

What's the time?

It's after 9:00.
I let you lie in.

I didn't think you'd be going
to corporate communion.

And you were absolutely right,
Lunt.

It was the last Sunday of term,
the last of the year.

It was nearly 11:00
when I left, and during my walk,

I heard the change ringing cease
and, all over the town,

give place to the single chime
which warned the city

that service was about to start.

None but churchgoers
seemed abroad that morning,

on their way to St. Barnabas,
St. Columba, St. Aloysius,

St. Mary's, Pusey House,
Blackfriars,

all in the summer sunshine,

going to the temples
of their race.

Four proud infidels alone
proclaimed their dissent,

four lndians
from the gates of Balliol

making for the river.

So through a world of piety,

I made my way to Sebastian.

Hello.

I've been to mass.

I knew Mummy'd been writing
to Monsignor Bell.

He's asked me to dinner twice
last week.

So I sat bang in the front

and absolutely shouted
the Hail Marys.

I'm glad that's over.

So how was dinner with Antoine?

What did you talk about?

Well, he did
most of the talking.

That's not unusual.

Did you know him at Eton?

Hardly.

He was sacked in my first half.

Though I do remember
seeing him about a bit.

Did he go to church with you?

Don't think so. Why?

Has he met any of your family?

Charles, how very peculiar
you're being today.

No, I don't suppose so.

So why all this interest?

Well, I'm-

I was trying to find out
how much truth there was

in what he said last night.

Very little, I should think.

That's his great charm.

Well, you may think it charming.

I think it's devilish.

Do you know he spent
most of last evening

trying to turn me against you?

And he almost succeeded.

Did he?

How silly.

Aloysius would not have approved
of that at all.

Would you, you pompous old bear?

The long vacation came,

and Sebastian disappeared
into that other life of his

where I was not asked to follow.

I was left, instead,
forlorn and regretful.

I returned to my father's house
without plans

and without money.

I faced a bleak prospect.

I was overdrawn at the bank,

and without my father's
authority, I could draw no more.

My dear boy, they never
told me you were here.

Hello, Father.

Did you have
a very exhausting journey?

They gave you tea?

Yes, Mrs. Abel brought me some.

You're well?

I have just made
a somewhat audacious purchase

from Somerschein's,

a terra-cotta bull
of the fifth century.

I was examining it
and so forgot your arrival.

Was the carriage very full?

No, I managed
to get a corner seat.

Good.

Hayter brought you
the evening paper.

No news, of course.
Such a lot of nonsense.

What do you like to drink?

Hayter, what have we
for Mr. Charles to drink?

There's some whisky.

There's whisky.
Perhaps you like something else?

What else have we?

There isn't anything else
in the house, sir.

There's nothing else.

You must tell Hayter
what you would like,

and he will get it in.

I never keep any wine now.

I am forbidden it,
and no one comes to see me.

But while you are here,
you must have what you like.

You are here for long?

I'm not quite sure, Father.

It's a very long vacation.

In my day, we used to go on
what was called reading parties,

always in mountainous areas.

Why? Why should alpine scenery
be thought conducive to study?

I had thought of putting in
some time at an art school.

My dear boy,
you'll find them all shut.

The students go to Barbizon
or such places

and paint in the open air.

There was an institution
in my day

called Sketching Club.

Mixed sexes, bicycles,
pepper-and-salt knickerbockers,

holland umbrellas

and, it was popularly thought,
free love.

Such a lot of nonsense.

I expect they still go on.

You might try that.

One of the problems
of the vacation, Father,

is money.

Oh, I shouldn't worry about
a thing like that at your age.

You see, I've run rather short.

Yes?

In fact, I don't know
how I'm going to get through

the next couple of months.

Well, I'm the worst person
to come to for advice.

I've never been short,
as you so painfully call it.

And yet what else could you say?

Hard up? Penurious? Distressed?

Embarrassed? Stoney-broke?
On the rocks?

In Queer Street?

Yes, well, let us just say
you were in Queer Street

and leave it at that.

Yes, but what do you suggest
I should do?

Your cousin Melchior was
imprudent in his investments

and got into
a very queer street.

He went to Australia.

Hayter, I've dropped my book.

During the sultry week
that followed,

I saw little of my father
during the day.

He spent hours on end
in his study.

Now and again,
I would hear him go out,

sometimes for half an hour
or less,

sometimes for a whole day.

Ah, so there you are.

Splendid, splendid.

Very warm today, very warm.

Yes.

His errands
were never explained.

The dinner table
was our battlefield.

I do think, Charles,
you might talk to me.

I've had a very exhausting day.

I was looking forward
to a little conversation.

Of course, Father.

What shall we talk about?

Cheer me up.
Take me out of myself.

Tell me about the new plays.

But I haven't been to any.

You should, you know.
You really should.

It isn't natural in a young man

to spend all his evenings
at home.

Well, Father, as I told you,

I haven't much money to spare
for theatergoing.

My dear boy,
you must not allow money

to become your master
in this way.

Why, at your age,
your cousin Melchior

was part owner
of a musical piece.

It was one of his few
successful ventures.

You should go to the play
as part of your education.

I received one letter
from Sebastian.

It was written on
and enveloped in

heavy Victorian mourning paper,

black-coroneted
and black-bordered.

Dearest Charles,
I found a box of this paper

at the back of the bureau,
so I must write to you,

as I am mourning
for my lost innocence.

It never looked like living.

The doctors despaired of it
from the start.

Soon, I am off to Venice

to stay with Papa
in his palace of sin.

I wish you were coming.

I wish you were here.

I'm never quite alone.

Members of my family
keep turning up

and collecting luggage
and going away again.

But the white raspberries
are ripe.

I have a good mind
not to take Aloysius to Venice.

I don't want him to meet
a lot of horrid ltalian bears

and pick up bad habits.

Love or what you will, S.

Strife was internecine
during the next fortnight.

But I suffered the more,

for my father had greater
reserves to draw on.

One day, by chance, a weapon
came to hand.

I met an old acquaintance
of school days named Jorkins.

I never had much liking
for Jorkins,

but I greeted him
with enthusiasm

and asked him to dinner.

My father was quick
to retaliate.

He made a little fantasy
for himself

that Jorkins should be
an American.

So nice of you to come
all this way, Mr. Jorkins.

Oh, it isn't far.

It's really
only a matter of minutes.

Ah.
Science annihilates distance.

You are over here on business?

Well, I'm in business,
if that's what you mean.

I had a cousin
who was in business.

You wouldn't know him;
It was before your time.

I was telling Charles about him
only the other night.

He has been much in my mind.

He came a cropper.

You find his misfortune
a subject for mirth?

Or perhaps you were unfamiliar
with the word I used.

You, no doubt,
would say "folded up."

Well, I don't know that.

I mean-

- I suppose,
with your standards,

you find our life here
very parochial.

My father was master
of the situation.

Nonetheless, there are
fine things to see.

Throughout the evening,
he played

a delicate, one-sided
parlor game with him,

explaining any peculiarly
English terms

in the conversation,
translating pounds into dollars

so that my guest was left
with the vague sense

that there was a misconception
somewhere as to his identity

which he never got the chance
of explaining.

I mean, if-

- Only once, I thought my father
had gone too far.

Of course, I'm afraid,
living in London,

you must sadly miss
your national game.

My national game?

Cricket.

Never mind.

I've decided to diversify
Charles' evenings at home.

Tonight I have a surprise.

I've asked
a few young friends over

for a little music-making.

Charles, you know
the Orme Herricks.

Did you know

that Miss Orme Herrick was
a student of the cello?

She's going to play for us
tonight after dinner.

Charles.

Charles.

I really have to go.

Please.

I'm afraid Jorkins
has to go, Father.

He has to be up
very early in the morning.

Oh, what a pity.

Good-bye then, Mr. Jorkins.

I hope that you will pay us
another visit

the next time you cross
the herring pond.

Good-bye, Mr. Ryder,
and thank you.

I'm so sorry I have to leave.

I'll just see him out, Father.

Such a versatile young man.

You must ask him again soon.

Good night, Jorkins.

What very dull friends I have.

You know, without the spur
of your presence,

I would never have roused myself
to invite them.

I've been very neglectful
about entertaining lately.

Now you are paying me
a long visit,

I will have many such evenings.

You liked Miss Orme Herrick?

- No.
- No?

Was it her little moustache
you objected to

or her very large feet?

Do you think
she enjoyed herself?

No.

That was my impression also.

I doubt if any of our guests
will count this

among their happiest evenings.

That young foreigner
plays atrociously, I thought.

Where can I have met him?

And Miss Constantia Smethwick,

where can I have met her?

But the obligations
of hospitality must be observed.

While you are here,
you shall not be dull.

Finally, one Sunday afternoon,

a telegram arrived
from Sebastian

which threw me into a state
of fevered anxiety.

Father.

You'll never guess
where I've spent the day.

I've been to the zoo.

It was most agreeable.

The animals seem to like
the sunshine so much.

Father, I have to leave at once.

Yes?

A friend of mine,
he's gravely injured.

I must go to him.

There's a train
in about half an hour.

"Gravely injured.
Come at once. Sebastian."

Well, I'm sorry you are upset.

Reading this message,

I do not think that the accident
could be quite so serious

as you seem to think.

Otherwise,
it would hardly be signed

by the victim himself.

Still, of course,
he may well be fully conscious

but blind or paralyzed
with a broken back.

Why exactly is your presence
so necessary?

You have no medical knowledge.

You are not in holy orders.

Do you hope for a legacy?

I told you; He's a great friend.

Well, Orme Herrick
is a very great friend of mine,

but I should not go tearing off
to his deathbed

on a warm Sunday afternoon.

I rather doubt

whether Lady Orme Herrick
would welcome me.

However, I see
you have no such doubts.

I shall miss you, my dear boy.

But do not hurry back
on my account.

Fear worked like yeast
in my thoughts,

and the fermentation
brought to the surface,

in great gobs of scum,
the images of disaster.

A loaded gun,
held carelessly at a stile.

A horse rearing
and rolling over.

A shaded pool
with a submerged stake.

A car at a blind corner.

All the catalog of threats
to civilized life

rose and haunted me.

I even pictured
a homicidal maniac,

mouthing in the shadows,
swinging a length of lead pipe.

Ticket, please, sir.

- Brideshead, sir?
- Yes.

Lady Julia's waiting
in the yard.

Thank you.

- You're Mr. Ryder?
- Yes.

Jump in.

- How is he?
- Oh, he's fine.

Have you had dinner?
Yes, on the train.

Well, I expect it was beastly.
There's some more at home.

Sebastian and I are alone,
so we thought we'd wait for you.

What's happened to him?

Didn't he say?

I expect he thought
you wouldn't come if you knew.

He cracked a bone in his foot
so tiny that it hasn't a name.

But they X-rayed it yesterday

and told him to keep it up
for a month.

It's a great bore to him,
putting out all his plans.

He's been making
the most enormous fuss.

Everybody else has gone.

At first, he tried to make me
stay back with him.

Well, I expect you know how
maddeningly pathetic he can be.

I almost gave in,
and then I said,

"Surely there must be someone
you can get hold of?"

And he said everybody was away
or busy,

and anyway no one else would do.

But at last,
he agreed to try you,

and I promised I'd stay
if you failed him,

so you can imagine how popular
you are with me.

I must say,
I think it's noble of you

to come all this way
at a moment's notice.

How did he do it?

Believe it or not,
playing croquet.

He lost his temper
and tripped over a hoop.

Not a very honorable scar.

She so much resembled Sebastian

that sitting beside her,

I was confused
by the double illusion

of familiarity and strangeness.

I hate driving
at this time of the day.

There doesn't seem anyone left
at home who can drive a car.

Sebastian and I are practically
camping out.

- Cigarette?
- No, thanks.

Light one for me, will you?

It was the first time in my life

that anyone had asked this
of me,

and as I took the cigarette
from my lips and put it in hers,

I caught a thin bat's squeak
of sexuality

inaudible to any but me.

Thanks.

You've been here before.
Nanny reported it.

We both thought it
very odd of you

not to stay to tea with me.

That was Sebastian.

You seem to let him
boss you around a good deal.

You shouldn't.
It's very bad for him.

Here we are.

I wouldn't have
put it past Sebastian

to have started dinner
without you.

Thank you.

Hello, darling.

Thank you, Wilcox.

Well, darling,
I've collected your chum.

I thought you were dying.

I thought so too.

The pain was excruciating.

Julia, do you think,
if you asked him,

Wilcox would give us
champagne tonight?

I hate champagne.

And Mr. Ryder
has already had dinner.

Mr. Ryder? Mr. Ryder?

Charles drinks champagne
at all hours.

Do you know, looking at this
great swaddled foot of mine,

I can't get it out of my head
that I've got gout,

and that gives me a craving
for champagne.

Ow!

Which way?

This way.

Dinner was served
in the Red Dining Room.

While they dined, I ate a peach

and told them of the war
with my father.

And he said to him,
"Living in London,

you must miss
your national game."

And Jorkins said,
"What national game?"

And my father said,
"Why, cricket, of course."

I mean, I-l really think
he's sometimes quite mad.

He sounds a perfect poppet
to me.

And now I'm going to leave
you boys.

- Where are you off to?
- The nursery.

I promised Nanny
a last game of halma.

Dear Nanny Hawkins.

She lives entirely for pleasure.

Good night, Mr. Ryder,
and good-bye.

I'm leaving early.

I can't tell you
how grateful I am to you

for relieving me at the sickbed.

My sister's very pompous
tonight.

I don't think she cares for me.

I don't think
she cares for anyone very much.

I love her. She's so like me.

Do you? Is she?

In looks, I mean,
and the way she talks.

I wouldn't love anyone
with a character like mine.

Charles, we're going to have
a heavenly time alone.

When, next morning,

I saw Julia drive from
the forecourt and disappear,

I felt a sense of liberation
and peace

such as I was to know
years later when,

after a night of unrest,

the sirens sounded
the all clear.

I believed myself
very close to heaven

during those languid days
at Brideshead.

It is thus
I like to remember Sebastian

as he was that summer

when we wandered alone
through that enchanted palace.