Original subtitles

(bells tolling)

(thumping)

Featherstone: Missy!

Missy! Do you hear?

It’s 3:00 in the morning and I’ve got all my faculties.

- Do you hear? - Yes, sir.

I’ve made two wills and I want you to burn one of them.

It’s in the chest in the closet.

I want you to take that one out and burn it.

No, sir, I cannot do that.

Cannot do it? But you must!

No, I can’t.

It would lay me open to suspicion.

Wait ’til morning, sir, ’til your brother and sister come again.

No! Now!

Look here, Missy.

Take this money, all of it –

the notes and the gold.

You shall have it all, only do as I say.

No, I won’t, sir.

I won’t touch the will or the money.

Please don’t ask me again.

You’ll never have the chance again.

Look, it’s pretty nigh 200.

And there’s more in the box and –

nobody will know how much there was.

Take it and do as I tell you.

Put away your money, sir, I won’t touch it.

I will do anything else you ask me.

Anything else?

I want nothing else. (coughing)

- Let me give you some cordial. - Damn you, Missy!

(clatters)

(coughing intensifies)

(funeral bells tolling )

Mrs. Cadwallader: What an extraordinary set of people.

Who can they all be?

Oh, there’s Lydgate, his doctor, I suppose.

Oh, that’s a really fine-looking young woman

with that fair young man.

Who are they, Sir James, do you know them?

I see Vincy, the new mayor.

They’re probably his son and daughter.

A very decent family – you’ve seen Vincy at my house.

He’s a very good fellow.

One of your secret political committee, I hear.

Oh, oh, oh, oh –

And one of those who sucks the life

out of those wretched handloom weavers at Tipton and Freshitt.

That’s how his family looks so fair and sleek.

Well, well, he’s a sound man, Vincy.

Celia: Who is that man that’s wandered into the garden?

He looks happy enough.

Well, it’s time the old man died.

No one there seems to be sorry.

Why, Dodo,

you never told me Mr. Ladislaw has come again.

Ah yes, he came with me, he’s my guest.

He puts up at Tipton, you know.

He’s an excellent young man.

He writes well, talks well...

I’d be glad to give him an opportunity at “The Pioneer.”

Mrs. Cadwallader: I see...writes political speeches, does he?

Did I not mention him before, Casaubon?

I asked him some time ago when you were ill

and Dorothea said you couldn’t have anybody in the house.

You know? And she asked me to write to him.

And he and I have brought the portrait on top of the carriage –

yourself in a semblance of Thomas Aquinas.

I knew you’d be pleased by the surprise.

(rapid footsteps)

Ladislaw!

Here! Here he comes.

He wouldn’t come in, you know, ’til I had announced him.

But here he comes.

Excellent, excellent, here he comes.

There you are, you see?

To the life.

A deep subtle sort of thinker

drawing attention to our ultimate destination.

It’s symbolic, you see – the higher style of art.

What do you think, Casaubon?

I went into all that a great deal at one time –

solidity, transparence, everything of that sort.

I like all that up to a point, but not too far.

It’s a bit straining to keep up with.

The flesh is good though.

Flesh is good.

(whispering)

(whispering continues)

- Mrs. Waule: That’s him. - By-blow.

- Love child. - Love child!

(man clears throat)

Now, the will I hold here in my hand

was drawn up by myself

on the 9th of August, 1825.

But I find there is a subsequent will –

hitherto unknown to me,

- executed in March 1828. - (murmuring)

Dear, dear.

I shall begin by reading the essential elements of the earlier will –

as such appears

to be the intentions of the deceased.

“To each of my brothers and sisters who shall survive me,

“I give and bequeath the sum of £200

“and to my nephews and nieces £100.

“To Mr. Borthrop Trumbull –

“£50 and my gold-headed cane.

“To Mr. Frederick Vincy –

“£10,000.”

(collective gasp)

“And the whole of the residue of the estate,

“including the house known as Stone Court,

“and all the lands and buildings appertaining

“go to Mr. Joshua Rigg,

“who will take henceforth the name of Featherstone.”

But there’s a second will! There’s a further document.

Yes, we have not yet heard the final wishes of the deceased.

The second, most recent document...

revokes all the bequests of the earlier will.

(murmuring)

It leaves Stone Court and all the land in the parish of Lowick

to Joshua Rigg, with the former conditions –

“That the remainder of the estate

“is to be devoted to the erection and endowment

“of almshouses for old men

“to be called Featherstone’s almshouses.”

There are no other bequests whatsoever.

(gasps)

(sobbing)

The most unaccountable will I’ve ever heard.

(sobbing louder)

- Solomon: If I had known – - Mother!

A wagon and six wouldn’t have drawn me from brassing.

It’ll do him no good where he is gone.

He was a bad man

and almshouses won’t cover it.

(wailing)

Come with me.

That vile hypocritical old man.

Don’t give way, Lucy, don’t make a fool of yourself,

my dear, before these people.

Fred.

- Fred! - (whispers) Fred, come!

Fred, Fred!

Be brave, Fred, I do believe you’re better without the money.

That’s all very well, Mary, but what’s a fellow to do?

I thought I’d be able to pay your father back at once and make everything right.

And he’s left you nothing too. What shall you do now?

Find another situation.

I’m sorry, Fred.

Mr. Vincy: Fred!

Fred!

(whispering)

...and sat in church with him when he felt like it...

Mr. Vincy: Damn bad day’s work.

Well, sir, I hope you’ve made your mind up now

to go up and pass that examination.

You built too much on your expectations, now you must face the consequences.

Don’t be too hard on the poor boy.

- It weren’t his fault that wicked old man deceived him. - Ha!

Mrs. Vincy: Fred will turn out well yet, I know.

And where is there a girl like Rosamond?

Dr. Lydgate, who could have had the highest in the land,

he fell in love with her at once.

The sooner that engagement is off, the better.

Vincy! She’s started buying in all the best linen –

I don’t care, I shall have enough to do with this idle scamp,

without paying for wedding clothes.

Times are as bad as can be –

machine breaking, and I know not what.

Election coming and revolution for all I know.

Everybody’s ruined.

I don’t believe young Lydgate’s got a farthing to his name for all his grand connections.

If he wants my daughter, he can damn well make his own way first.

Ooh, Vincy...

- Lydgate: What’s this, Crabstone? - Abdominal tumor, Dr. Lydgate.

Her name is Nancy Nash, patient of Dr. Minchin’s.

- Good morning, Nancy, how do you feel? - Bad.

Dr. Minchin wants me to open her up and cut it out this morning.

May I take a look, Nancy?

I’ll be as gentle as I can.

(scalpels sharpening)

Tell me when you feel it.

- There? - Yes.

- There? - Yes.

And when I do this?

Yes.

Hmmm.

All right, thank you, Nancy.

It’s not a tumor, it’s cramp.

Give her a blister and some steel mixture. Send her home to rest.

What’s Dr. Minchin going to say about that?

“Cut her open,” that’s what he said to me –

All right, I’ll speak to Dr. Minchin.

(patient coughing)

I was as tactful as I know how to be, but Minchin took offense.

He’s refused to give his services to the new hospital.

We’ll manage well enough in spite of him.

I shall just have to spend more time there myself, that’s all.

The devil of it is the work’s unpaid.

Still...things can’t last as they are.

We’ll have all sorts of reforms soon.

Then all the young fellows will be glad to come and study here.

- Tertius? - Yes, my darling?

Papa has been saying that our engagement must be given up.

But why?

You don’t want to give it up?

Oh,

I never give up anything that I chose to do.

Good!

Rosamond: This is the house.

It belonged to old Mrs. Bretton.

Oh, I’ve always longed to live here.

And it’s so near the hospital.

Papa says it’s too expensive for a doctor.

Say no more, I’ll take it.

- Oh! - It’s absolutely the right thing.

I wouldn’t have you like Dr. Minchin’s wife

in a pokey little ill-proportioned place.

No! Damned the expense!

I’ll use my patrimony.

You shall have everything that is proper for a lady to have.

It’s degrading to be mean about such things.

And Rosy, rather than defer our marriage, why not hasten it?

- Oh, Tertius. - You wouldn’t mind about new clothes.

Those can be bought afterwards.

I’ve never heard of wedding clothes being bought after the marriage.

You wouldn’t deny me for the sake of a few clothes?

No.

I shan’t be happy,

’til I’ve made you altogether mine.

Fred: Congratulations.

Now we should be allowed to enjoy ourselves.

There’s no way you’re going to...

Woman: Handsome couple though, no denying that.

Handsome is as handsome does.

I wouldn’t wed a girl of mine to that one.

It’s a well-known fact he tried to cut up Mrs. Goby, after she was dead.

No, he never! Did he?

Poised over her with a knife when her brothers burst in, I heard.

No! Handsome though.

Oh, yeah, very handsome. Very smart, the pair of them.

Come and congratulate the bride and groom.

Not that I am not thankful for my Ned’s sake,

though he could afford to keep such a wife

better than Dr. Lydgate, for all his grand ways.

I’ve never liked it when strangers come in to a town, putting on airs.

My Nicholas was a stranger here once.

Abraham and Moses were strangers in the land.

And we are told to entertain strangers, are we not?

I wasn’t speaking in a religious sense, Harriet.

(bells tolling)

- Mr. Brooke. - Good day to you.

Vincy’s had to dig deep in his pockets over this palaver.

You think he’s got himself a bargain then?

With Lydgate?! (laughs)

No better than Brooke got when he bought himself “The Pioneer.”

And that young rogue he’s got to edit it -

they say Brooke is putting up for Parliament,

with his protégé to puff him in “The Pioneer.”

Who is he then, the young sprig?

Some loose fish from London, I suppose.

His name is Ladislaw.

Some sort of foreigner, I gather.

He’ll begin with a flourish about the rights of man

- and end up murdering some poor wench. - Aye, I wouldn’t wonder.

Ladislaw: “‘The Pioneer’ considers this to be a time

“when the crying needs of the country might overcome

“the modesty and reluctance to public action

“on the part of men of large experience of life,

“men whose minds have acquired breadth, as well as concentration,

“dispassionateness tempered by intelligence and energy.

“The name of Brooke of Tipton comes to mind in this connection.

“And the electors of Middlemarch would be fortunate indeed

“to secure the services of such a man.”

Ladislaw, that’s good and to the point.

“Dispassionateness tempered by intelligence and energy,”

I like that, yes, I like that very well.

No, wait, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll come with you.

There’s a particular sketch I wanted to take within the churchyard.

Aah...very well.

- I’ll see you at dinner then. - With pleasure, sir.

Very well, Peter.

Peter: Walk on, go on.

- Master is out, sir – - Oh.

But Mrs. Casaubon is in. She’ll be glad to see you, I am sure.

Oh, very well. Wouldn’t want to be a nuisance though.

She’s just in the library, sir.

I’m so glad to see you.

I really just came for the chance of seeing you alone.

I wanted to talk about things, like we did in Rome.

It seems strange how much I said to you then.

I remember it all.

You spend all your days shut up indoors with these?

Not all my days,

not all the hours in any day.

And I’m happy to be here.

You look so much paler than you did in Rome.

Couldn’t you get your husband a secretary?

Then you could ride and get your color back.

How can you think of that?

I should have no happiness if I didn’t help him with his work.

Did you know I was his secretary for a while?

I should not have thought that post would have suited you.

No, nor did it suit Mr. Casaubon.

Perhaps you are not a steady enough worker.

No, and I don’t think

Mr. Casaubon likes anyone to overlook his work

and know too thoroughly what he’s doing.

Too uncertain of himself.

I made the mistake of offering him my opinions.

I’m afraid he dislikes me because I too often ventured to disagree with him.

And yet he overcame his dislike of you

as far as his actions were concerned.

Yes, he has...

shown a sense of justice in family matters.

He understood what an abominable thing it was

for my grandmother to be disinherited

merely for falling in love with a poor man.

I wonder how she bore the change from wealth to poverty?

Do you know much about her?

Well, she married for love, that’s all.

There’s nothing to be said against my grandfather

except that he was a Polish patriot

who was forced to flee his homeland

and obliged to give music lessons for his living.

For this alone was she disinherited.

My mother ran away from her family too,

to get her living, went on the stage in fact.

See, I come from rebellious blood on both side.

- And your father? - I remember him very little.

He died when I was very young.

He inherited the musical talents.

I remember him playing the violin.

And I remember... his slow walk.

And I remember his long, thin hands.

And I remember once,

he’d been lying in bed for a long time – I think he was very ill –

and all I could think of was how hungry I was

and how I only had a little piece of bread.

He made himself known to Mr. Casaubon shortly before he died

and that was our last hungry day.

Such a different life from mine.

I’ve always had too much of everything.

Do you really think you’ll be satisfied working with my uncle?

Oh, for the time being, I think.

There’s work for me to do here and I belong to nobody anywhere else.

But if you think I shouldn’t stay – then I will go.

Why should I think that? I should like you to stay very much.

Then I will stay.

Perhaps you should be guided by Mr. Casaubon.

I spoke without thinking of anything but my own feelings.

Can’t you wait now and mention it to him?

No, I can’t wait today.

Your uncle is expecting me.

I feel I need to use my body.

A five-mile walk to Tipton with the sun

gleaming on the wet grass is just what I require.

- Goodbye. - Then goodbye.

- Did you find the bishop well, Edward? - Tolerably well, my dear.

He was good enough to speak very handsomely

of my recent pamphlet on the Egyptian mysteries –

in terms which would not become me to repeat.

That’s wonderful news.

I wish you’d been here earlier.

Why is that, my dear?

Because Mr. Ladislaw has been here.

You missed him by only a few minutes.

Indeed.

Yes, he was hoping to speak with you.

It appears that uncle has bought one of the Middlemarch newspapers.

And has asked Mr. Ladislaw to conduct it for him.

And now that he is independent of your financial support,

he’s seeking some fixed occupation.

He also said that he should like to stay in the neighborhood

because nobody cares for him elsewhere.

And did Mr. Ladislaw come on purpose to ask my opinion?

He didn’t say that.

But of course he expected me to tell you of it.

Would you like me to read to you, Edward?

No thank you, not at present.

Then may I talk to you a little?

Certainly.

I’ve been thinking all day about money...

that I’ve always had too much.

And especially now with your generosity,

the prospect of too much.

I’ve been thinking about your aunt Julia...

how she was cut off from the family

only because she married a man who was poor.

And about her grandson Will, your cousin.

It isn’t right that he should live in poverty while we are rich.

And no doubt, Mr. Ladislaw has been speaking to you on the subject.

No.

Edward, I know that you have done everything that you thought to be right.

But it seems to me that more than that is right.

I believe that Mr. Ladislaw should be given the money

that would enable him to take his true place in society –

then he need not take on employment that might be beneath him.

Edward?

Surely, he has a just claim –

Dorothea, my love,

this is not the first occasion,

and it were well it were the last,

on which you have assumed a judgment which is beyond your scope!

It is not for you to interfere between me and Mr. Ladislaw,

still less to encourage communications between him and you

which constitute a criticism on my procedure!

Edward’s voice: “Dear Mr. Ladislaw,

“Mrs. Casaubon informs me that a proposal has been made for you.

“Let me inform you

“that your acceptance of this proposal would be highly offensive to me.

“There are certain social fitnesses and proprieties

“which should hinder a near relation of mine

“from making himself conspicuous in this vicinity

“in a status far below my own.

“I must tell you that any persistence in this course

“must disqualify you from further reception at my house.

“Yours faithfully, Edward Casaubon.”

Pompous old fool.

I’m damned if I’ll let you drive me away.

- What was that, Mr. Ladislaw? - Nothing, Jenkins.

Freedom is a noble thing, eh?

It is, sir, and in short supply.

Ladislaw’s voice: “Dear Mr. Casaubon,

“you will pardon me for not seeing

“that my obligation to you should restrain me

“from living where I choose and maintaining myself

“by any lawful occupation that I choose.

“My conscience tells me I’m doing nothing wrong.

“If yours forbids you to receive me in your house again,

“so be it. I remain with deep regret,

“yours, in persistent obligation,

“Will Ladislaw.”

Rosamond: Tertius, you never told me

how beautiful Quallingham was.

What’s it like inside? Is it full of lovely things?

Lydgate: There will be someone exceptionally lovely in it.

Rosamond: Did you stay here often as a child?

Lydgate: Quite often, yes,

particularly when Sir Godwin became my guardian, after my father died.

I think you’ll like my uncle. He’s a good-natured old fellow.

But I’m afraid my cousin’s a bore.

So how do you like Quallingham now that you’ve seen all around it, eh?

Oh, I like it very much, sir.

I think it is the loveliest place I have ever been in.

(chuckles) Do you, do you?

You have a lusher countryside in Loamshire, I understand.

No, no indeed, Sir Godwin,

I could happily walk around Quallingham for weeks together.

Oh, if I were ever to live here,

I think I should die from happiness.

Really indeed. We don’t want that, do we?

Intend continuing in Middlemarch then, Tertius?

Yes, I thought so, sir.

Country sawbones in a manufacturing town!

Odd sort of profession for a gentleman.

I would like us to remove to London, Sir Godwin,

or perhaps to Bath.

Bath’s an amusing place, but it’s damp.

It’s full of gouty admirals. Doctors make a fortune there.

Middlemarch has more interest to me.

We have the opportunity to make the town and its hospital

a model in medical care that the whole of Europe might envy.

Hmph.

Really?

Good hunting about, I understand. I might come and visit you one day.

Oh yes, oh, please do, Captain Lydgate, come and stay with us.

We should be delighted to receive you. wouldn’t we, Tertius?

Oh yes, yes... yes, of course.

What about this new nonsense of Brooke’s?

Does he really mean to stand for Parliament?

He’ll be roasted alive at the hustings.

He brings it upon himself. He’s the worst landlord in the county.

I do think one is bound to do the best one can for one’s land and tenants,

especially in these hard times.

I want him to take Caleb Garth on again as agent.

He got rid of Garth 12 years ago, and everything has been going wrong since.

I think of getting Garth to manage for me. He is an excellent man.

Lady Chettam: If Dorothea had kept near her uncle,

there might have been some hope for him.

But now Casaubon takes her up almost entirely.

If she can visit her sister, she can visit her uncle.

Someone at any rate has got to teach that man some sense.

Dorothea: Are you sure you won’t come in with me, James?

No, I think you’ll do better on your own, Dorothea.

But do remember, you must be cruel to be kind.

Brooke: Let us get this into next week’s editorial.

Mr. Ladislaw.

- Mrs. Casaubon. - Dorothea!

Well!

I hear you are going to engage Mr. Garth

who praised my cottage designs.

Ah well...no!

Did Chettam say that?

He’s a little hasty, you know.

I never said I should do any such thing.

But I know you will,

for you mean to enter Parliament as a member who cares for progress.

And how could you do that while your tenants live in filth and squalor?

- Oh, come on. - Think of Kit Downes, uncle.

He lives with his wife and seven children in the back kitchen.

Leaving the other rooms to the rats.

Yes, what is it, Mrs. Kell?

The keeper has caught Dagley’s boy, sir, with a leveret.

- Fresh killed. - Has he?

A leveret!

Well, I must talk to the boy’s father. Now,

Dorothea, will you come with me as far as Dagley’s cottage?

Yes of course. Uncle!

I shall let him off lightly.

You stay here while I talk to the keeper.

- Where is he? - He’s out here, sir.

What is he doing at the front of the house?

(voices fading)

You do know that Mr. Casaubon has forbidden me to visit you?

No.

No, I did not know.

I’m very sorry.

Do you still intend to stay at Tipton?

Yes, I shall hardly ever see you now,

or hear what you’re doing.

No, but I shall hear of you from my uncle.

And as for what I shall be doing...

My life is very simple, I’m always at Lowick.

That is a terrible imprisonment!

Please, don’t say that.

I have no longings.

Except...

Except what?

Except that I wish I hadn’t so much more than my share

without really doing anything for others.

My religion

is to love what is good and beautiful

when I see it.

And I’m a rebel.

I don’t feel bound as you do

to submit to what I do not like.

(horse whinnies)

How long my uncle is.

I must go and look for him.

Brooke: Chettam finds fault with me,

over gates, and repairs.

He wants me to go fancy farming.

But I’d like to know another landlord

who is as easy over rent arrears as I have been.

I’m very easy, uncommonly easy.

I’m well-known for going easy. I’m treasured for it.

I know it, uncle, but if the whole estate were under professional management –

Yes, yes, well...

- (thunder rumbling) - Well,

I want you to stay here.

(dog barking)

(chickens clucking)

Ah, Dagley, my good fellow.

I’d like a word with you.

What? Mr. Brooke, is that?

Yes, well, Dagley,

I’m sorry to say that your little lad Jacob has been caught poaching.

All I have done

is have him shut in the empty stable for an hour or so,

just to frighten him.

- And you must give him a reprimand, you know. - No, I won’t!

Good day to you, Mrs. Dagley.

I’m damned if I’ll leather my boy to please you,

not if you were twenty landlords instead of one –

Now, I did not mean the stick, Dagley, not the stick.

Stick, is it? You talk of stick on these premises?

You won’t give a stick towards mending!

Worst landlord in the county.

Hold your tongue. He’s been to market, sir, and taken liquor.

He’s heard about reforms, sir. He don’t mean any harm.

Come the reform, it’s you and your likes will be sent scuttling.

Dagley!

I’ve lived upon your ground

from my father and grandfather afore me.

And I’ve dropped our money into it.

Me and my children

might lie for top-dressing and rot in the ground

that we can’t find the money to buy –

Dagley, you’re drunk, you know.

We’ll talk another time, you know, another time.

Good day to you, Mrs. Dagley.

Aye, that’s it, go on. Get out of it, make yourself scarce.

- (arguing, yelling) - (dog barking)

Dagley: Go on, get out of there now!

(commotion continues)

- What’s happened, uncle? - We chose a bad time

and the man is the worse for drink, I’m afraid.

He was most uncouth.

Quite overstepped the mark.

But you know, my dear,

reflecting on Chettam’s notion

that Garth should take over the management,

you see...

he has an eye for detail.

while I... I take a broader view.

It would be an excellent idea, uncle.

Thank you.

(women gossiping)

Rosamond: Can you take these up to my bedroom, please?

Maid: Yes, ma’am.

(voices overlapping)

Rosamond: Oh, how lovely! Tertius!

Tertius, look.

Don’t you think this the prettiest pattern you ever saw?

Rosy, more dress material?

I see you bought the dearest wineglasses, after all.

It wasn’t expensive, Tertius.

And look,

it does suit me, doesn’t it?

You will ruin me.

It’s lovely.

It becomes you very well.

Tertius, careful.

- Careful. - You’ll ruin me.

- Oh! - Ruin me!

(panting) Oh, dear!

Oh, ruin me.

(moaning)

Tertius!

(dog barking)

- Oh, Mr. Farebrother. - Mrs. Garth.

- Caleb. - Mr. Farebrother.

Farebrother: Mary, Alfred, Ben. How is Letty?

- Very well, thank you, sir. - Good.

(sighs)

I come as an envoy, Mrs. Garth, from poor Fred Vincy.

Mr. Garth: I haven’t seen the lad for months.

- Couldn’t think what was become of him. - He’s been away on a visit,

’cause home was a little too hot for him.

Boy: Drop it.

Farebrother: Yesterday he came and poured himself out to me.

he asked me to come and tell you that he’s going away again

and that he’s so miserable about his debt to you

and his inability to pay, that he can’t bear

to come here himself, not even to say goodbye.

I’m not surprised.

Mr. Garth: Tell him it doesn’t signify a farthing,

for I’m to be as rich as Croesus.

- No! - Oh, yes indeed.

Well, rich enough to educate Alfred

and to keep Mary at home.

Good.

Mr. Garth: Thanks to Sir James Chettam

I’m going to be agent for two estates –

Freshitt and Tipton and bit of Lowick beside.

I’m delighted for you, Caleb.

This is just the sort of news to carry to Fred Vincy.

Boy: Come here.

Mr. Casaubon?

Dr. Lydgate.

I’m exceedingly obliged to you.

My life, Dr. Lydgate,

derives a possible importance through my work.

“A Key to All Mythologies”,

at present uncompleted.

It is, I believe, all that I will be remembered for.

And were it necessary,

I would wish to leave it behind me

in such a state that it might be

committed to the press by others.

You have not implied to me that my symptoms are those of a fatal disease,

but were it so,

such knowledge would be very useful to me.

Mr. Casaubon, with diseases of the heart,

it is particularly difficult to predict with certainty.

You may live a comfortable life for another 15 years, but...

it is my duty to tell you that death is often sudden.

I see.

One more thing I have to ask you,

did you communicate what you have now told me to Mrs. Casaubon?

As to the possible issues, yes I did.

Thank you.

Such a rare and beautiful day.

Thank you, Dr. Lydgate.

I thank you.

(cane taps)

Dorothea, were you waiting for me?

Yes.

I didn’t like to disturb you.

Come, my dear, come.

You are young

and should not expend your life

by watching.

Whoa!

Ma’am.

(piano playing, singing)

(couple singing)

Dr. Lydgate? He’s not at home, ma’am,

but Mrs. Lydgate will be very happy to receive you, Mrs. Casaubon.

Thank you.

(man singing)

(woman singing)

(woman laughs)

Mrs. Casaubon, ma’am.

Mrs. Casaubon, you’re very welcome.

Thank you for allowing me to interrupt you.

I am anxious to see Dr. Lydgate, if possible.

I hoped you might tell me where I could find him,

or even allow me to wait for him if you expect him soon.

He is at the new hospital. I’m not sure how soon he will come home.

Shall I send for him?

Will you let me go and fetch him?

Mr. Ladislaw.

I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was you.

I had not thought of seeing you here.

May I be of service? May I go to the hospital and fetch him?

No, I –

thank you, but I wish to lose no time before getting back home.

I will drive to the hospital myself and see him there.

Please, excuse me, Mrs. Lydgate. I’m very much obliged to you, thank you.

- Goodbye. - Goodbye.

I’m very envious of your acquaintance with Mrs. Casaubon.

Is she very clever?

I’ve never thought about it.

I must go too...

it’s always fatal to have music interrupted.

Oh.

Well, do come again... some evening.

Tertius will like to hear the music

and I find I cannot enjoy it so well without him.

(door shuts)

You’re certain that there is no further cause for anxiety?

No marked deterioration?

I thought he seemed...

diminished, somehow.

In his mind rather than his body.

Each of us knows that we must die.

But when we must grasp it as a certainty,

even the most devout must feel a certain terror.

Yes, I’m sure you’re right.

This is a fine place, Dr. Lydgate.

You must be very happy to have charge of it.

Yes, there’s... there’s everything to be done here.

The other medical men have set themselves against it, but, well,

they’ll come round in time.

And then there’s money too.

Bulstrode can’t be expected to foot all the bills.

Half the town seem to delight in thwarting him and me.

- Why is that? - Bulstrode is unpopular.

People don’t like his religious tone.

And I gather half of Middlemarch is in debt to him.

As to myself, well...

my colleagues don’t like it that Bulstrode

has put the medical direction in my charge.

So they not only refuse to cooperate,

but try to blacken the whole affair and hinder subscriptions.

How very petty of them.

There’s no stifling the offense of being young and a newcomer,

and happening to know something more than the old inhabitants.

I should like to help you if I can.

I could spare £200 a year for a purpose like this,

a hospital where everyone can come without fear of expense,

in confidence of the most modern care.

You’re very generous, Mrs. Casaubon.

It makes me happy.

How happy you must be to awake each morning

knowing that you have the power of doing so much good each day.

I wish I could awake each morning with that knowledge.

Yes.

I should remember that more often.

Hmm.

What are you thinking?

I’m thinking about a great fellow

who was about as old as I am, 300 years ago.

- I can’t guess. - I’ll tell you.

His name was Vesalius.

He was a great anatomist.

He taught us most of what we know in that field.

But the only way he could study

was to go at night and snatch bodies

- from graveyards and places of executions. - Oh, how horrible.

I hope he is not one of your great heroes,

else we shall have you getting up in the middle of the night

to go to St. Peter’s churchyard.

You know how angry the people were about Mrs. Goby?

You have enemies enough already.

So had Vesalius, Rosy.

No wonder the medical fogies in Middlemarch are jealous.

All the other doctors were against Vesalius, but he was right,

and he proved it,

for all they called him a liar and a poisonous monster,

for all his body-snatching.

And what happened to him in the end?

He had to fight throughout his life.

He got shipwrecked just as he was coming from Jerusalem

to take a great chair in Padua.

He died rather miserably.

- Tertius? - Hmm?

Do you know...

I often wish you hadn’t been a medical man?

Don’t say that, Rosy.

That’s like saying you wish you had married another man.

No, not at all.

You are clever enough for anything. You could easily have been something else.

And all your cousins at Quallingham think you have sunk below them –

My cousins at Quallingham may go to the devil.

Still,

I do not think it is a nice profession.

It’s the grandest profession in the world, Rosamond.

To say that you love me without loving the medical man in me

is the same as saying...

you like eating a peach but you don’t like its flavor.

And don’t say that again, dear, it pains me.

Today I propose the first step in the process of condensation,

which I’ve long had in view,

and which will require much intensive labor from you, my dear,

both now...

and in the future.

What would you like me to do?

Start here with the Egyptians.

No, no – here with the Greeks.

You will oblige me, my dear,

if you would read each passage aloud.

And where I say “mark,”

you make a...a cross

with a pencil.

Very well.

Well, let us begin at once.

I have deferred it too long...

and I would gladly see it completed.

“The cultivation of monastic, aesthetic and mystical traditions

“- as noted by Iraneus of Lyons -” - Mark!

“The theory of revelation as practiced

“- during the archaic and classical period.” - Pass.

“The critical approach to Greek religion

“inaugurated by Theagines of Rhegium and Hekataios in the 6th Century B.C.”

Mark.

Pass on the next heading, I omit the...

the second excursus on the solar cults.

You begin to perceive distinctly, my dear,

the principle upon which the selection is made.

Yes, I think I do, Edward.

Good. Let us pass on to the Etruscans.

Are you ill, Edward?

I feel some discomfort.

Can I do anything for you?

My love,

I have a request to make.

What is it?

That you will tell me whether, in the event of my death,

you’ll carry out my wishes:

Whether you will avoid doing what I should deprecate.

And do what I should desire.

You refuse?

No.

I do not refuse.

But it is too solemn.

I think it is not right

to make a promise when I am ignorant what it will bind me to.

Will you not tell me what you have in mind?

I see you would use your own judgment.

I ask you to obey mine, you refuse.

I desire with my whole soul

to do what will comfort you.

But I cannot make a pledge I do not understand.

Grant me ’til tomorrow.

Please, Edward...

I beg you.

’til tomorrow then.

Ma’am?

Has Mr. Casaubon risen?

This half hour, ma’am.

He said that he would await your answer in the garden

in that place where he goes to write.

Quickly, Tantripp, I must dress.

Edward, I am come.

I am ready.

Edward?

Edward?

(birds chirping)

Edward, wake, dear.

I am here now.