[gentle instrumental music] [birds chirping] [sheep braying] [dog barking] Look.

[upbeat instrumental music] [indistinct chatter] [grunting] The future.

[indistinct conversations] [horn blowing] Here's your bag.

-Is it Dr. Lydgate?

-Yes.

Welcome to Middlemarch, sir.

I understand you've purchased Dr. Peacock's practice.

Yes, I have.

No doubt you'll be kept busy sir.

This way if you please.

[instrumental music] [clopping hooves] [chuckles] [giggles] [Celia] We're late.

Let's go back through the woods.

[laughter] [baby crying] Come on, Dodo.

We're going to be late.

Thank you, Pimble.

I believe I shall give up riding, Celia.

Oh, Dodo.

Horses need exercise you know.

And Pimble needs employment.

Yes, I know, but is that all we can do, exercise horses and employ servants?

-Well, I don't know, Dodo.

-Yes, that's all very fine, Roach, but fences cost money, you know.

It'll cost you a lot more money if you let 'em rot, Mr. Brooke.

Ah now I think you'll find there's a middle way, Roach, a middle way.

[Roach] Mr. Brooke, the matter's urgent.

Your cattle are getting out.

[Arthur mumbling] [clock chiming] [faint clock ticking] [coughing] [nurse] His system needs purging.

Shall I move him downstairs and have him bled?

No, no, no purpose.

It's relieving to the spirit to be active, but in these cases there's nothing to be done but observe the progress of the fever.

I shall look in again tomorrow.

Lydgate!

-How are you?

-Reverend Farebrother!

Well enough, as you see.

Finding your feet, then.

I feel as if I've been here all my life.

Good.

I've just been chatting to old Mrs. Hislop.

She's some tales to tell about this place in the old days, before you came, make your blood run cold, Lydgate.

I doubt that very much.

Oh, you medical men, takes a good deal to shock you.

You see all sides of life.

Oh, I ran into a friend of yours the other day, Trawley was the name.

[Lydgate] Trawley, I knew him when I was studying in Paris!

He was such a political idealist.

He wanted to found a utopian community in the forest.

Did he ever do it?

I think not.

He'd been a doctor at a German spa, married his richest patient, and retired before he was thirty.

More of a realist than an idealist, I'd have said.

What a damned shameful waste of a life.

Some might not say so.

Not everyone has your moral fiber, Lydgate.

But I'm late for a christening.

Shall I be forgiven?

-I doubt it.

-[Lydgate] Mr. Bulstrode.

Ah!

[Farebrother] Good day to you.

Mr. Farebrother.

Dr. Lydgate, will you do me the great favor of walking across to the bank with me?

The plans for the new hospital are ready for your inspection.

[Lydgate] Are they?

Good.

Good, of course.

[Bulstrode] Excuse us.

[Lydgate] How soon will it be ready for use?

[Bulstrode] A matter of months.

[Lydgate] Excellent, excellent.

[Bulstrode] And I believe I can assure you it will be dedicated as a fever hospital.

I have advised that it should.

[Hawley] That's the new sawbones, is it?

Lydgate, yes.

Very well spoken of.

Clever man, good family too, they say.

Mmm.

[Lydgate] This is an excellent design, Mr. Bulstrode.

The architect has vision and he's been well instructed.

You know in a few years' time, we could have a first-class medical school here in Middlemarch.

Why should London and Paris and Edinburgh have it all?

I'm convinced that the causes and treatment of typhoid and cholera will very soon yield to rigorous scientific investigation.

And why should they not yield to it here in Middlemarch?

-Aye.

-[Lydgate] Where are the kitchens?

Oh yes, I see, good, good.

You will continue to give your services without payment?

Yes of course.

I have my general practice, Mr. Bulstrode, and my wants are modest.

I know I can do good here.

My aim is to do good small work for Middlemarch, and great work for the world.

You see I am ambitious.

I am glad to hear it sir.

As you know, I mean to entrust to you the superintendence of my new hospital.

But you recognize the existence of spiritual interests in your patients?

Yes, of course.

This room here would make an excellent laboratory, don't you think?

I refer to the chaplaincy of the hospitals.

I am proposing to the committee that the Reverend Mr. Farebrother should be replaced by the Reverend Mr. Tyke.

Oh, what's wrong with Farebrother?

Oh, he's a man deeply painful to contemplate.

Oh, I suppose there's not a clergyman in this country who has greater talents.

Really?

I haven't yet been pained by finding any excessive talent in Middlemarch.

I mean that Mr. Farebrother has great talents, but he dissipates them shamefully.

He lacks spirituality.

He brings his calling into disrepute.

Does he indeed?

Well, I've no knowledge in these matters.

If this room were a laboratory-- Dr. Lydgate.

The matter of the chaplaincy will be referred to the medical board.

It will be voted on.

You will be required to vote.

I trust I may ask of you this at least in virtue of the association between us, which I now look forward to, that you will not be influenced by my opponents in this matter.

Let me boldly confess to you, Dr. Lydgate, that the affairs of this temporal world are as nothing to me when they are in conflict with my spiritual duty.

I trust I make myself clear?

[Dorothea] I'm not sure if I've made the fireplaces big enough.

Farm workers cottages.

A new design.

Yes, very nice, but you know Uncle.

They'll never be built, Dodo.

Do you think we might look through Mamma's jewels now and divide them between us?

I think it would be lacking in respect to Mamma's memory if we were to put them by and never look at them and you know Uncle has invited Sir James Chettam and that other gentleman to dine with us this evening.

Mr. Casaubon.

Uncle says he is the most learned man in the county.

What do you think about Mamma's jewels?

You mean you would like to wear them?

I thought we both might.

Look.

You can wear that with your Indian muslin, Kitty.

And Dodo I thought this cross for you.

Not as a trinket.

No, you have it.

Have them all.

Dodo how can I wear ornaments if you never will?

Celia, it is too much to ask that I should wear trinkets to keep you in countenance.

They are lovely though.

You know, it's strange how deeply colors seem to penetrate one, like scent.

They look like fragments of heaven.

Here's a bracelet to match it.

Try it, please, Dodo.

They are lovely.

And necklaces are quite usual now.

Really Dodo.

Even for Christians.

Surely there must be women in heaven now who wore jewels!

You must keep these, if nothing else.

Say you will, Dodo.

Perhaps I shall.

[Brooke] Sir Humphrey Davy now!

I dined with him years ago at Cartwright's.

Wordsworth was there.

You know, Wordsworth, the poet.

Davy was a poet too, did you know that?

Or as you might say, Wordsworth was a poet one and Davy was a poet two.

Do you follow?

Wordsworth was poet one, and Davy was poet two.

[chuckling] Do you know Davy, Casaubon?

No sir, I regret that I do not.

[Brooke] Chettam here has studied Davy, and his Agricultural Chemistry, but it won't do.

I am reading the Agricultural Chemistry, Miss Brooke, because I want to take one of my farms into my own hand and see if I can set a good pattern of farming amongst my tenants.

Do you approve of that?

Why yes.

Very much indeed, Sir James!

I wish you could persuade my uncle to do the same.

[Brooke] No, no, no.

It won't do.

"Fancy farming," I call it.

The most expensive sort of whistle you can buy.

You may as well keep a pack of hounds.

But surely it's not a sin, Uncle, to spend money in finding out how to make the most of the land that supports us all?

Ladies don't understand political economy, you know.

No, a little light literature is more to their taste.

Uncle.

Novels, you know.

Poetry.

Scott, Shelly, Southey.

Now do you know Southey at all, Casaubon?

I have at present little leisure for modern literature.

I live too much with the dead, perhaps.

[Arthur chuckling] [Brooke] Casaubon's engaged upon a great work, you know.

Isn't that so, Casaubon?

I believe I am, yes.

Perhaps too great a work for the mind of one man to compass.

May I know what it is, Mr. Casaubon?

I am compiling a Key to All Mythologies, Miss Brooke.

I am seeking to elucidate those elements which underpin every system of belief known to man.

It's not, perhaps, a subject of great interest to young ladies.

On the contrary, to me that seems like a wonderful endeavor.

Well you're very kind, Miss Brooke.

I'm much encouraged.

How do you arrange your documents?

Pigeonholes partly.

Ah, pigeonholes will not do.

I never know whether a paper is in A or Zed.

[Dorothea] I wish you would let me sort your papers for you, Uncle.

I would letter them all and then make a list of subjects under each letter.

But you have an excellent secretary at hand, you perceive.

I hear you are determined to give up riding, Miss Brooke.

Surely that isn't true?

It is true, Sir James.

[Chettam] Oh, but why?

You're such an accomplished horsewoman and it is such healthy exercise.

And every lady should be a good horsewoman, you know, that she may accompany her husband.

Surely it isn't possible you should think riding is wrong?

It is quite possible that I should think it wrong for me.

Oh, why?

Well, I simply feel that there ought to be a better way to live.

But surely-- Perhaps we should not inquire too closely as to motives.

I believe I understand your response, Miss Brooke.

Thank you.

There seems to be so much that is trivial about our lives here, and I am so very ignorant.

My education has been so imperfect.

There's so much to do, so much to learn.

You're truly interested in scholarship, then?

Oh yes!

It must be wonderful to be engaged in some great work, as you are.

It is a great challenge to bring together all the major disciplines, theology, philosophy, cosmology, to show how every faith springs from the same ultimate source.

It is a great endeavor.

My notes already present a formidable range of volumes, but the crowning task will be to condense these still expanding insights into a single unified whole.

Oh yes.

Miss Brooke, this visit, for me, has been... may I say this?

More than pleasant.

I have felt the disadvantage of loneliness that inevitably accompanies any serious scholarship.

The presence of youth, of cheerful companionship, perhaps I have said too much?

No, not at all.

I feel I understand you.

And if I say in my turn that I have longed for some great purpose in my life which would give it shape and meaning... you do not find such an aspiration ridiculous?

Surprising, perhaps, in one so young, but not ridiculous.

No, not ridiculous at all.

It is time for me to leave.

Yes, of course.

Now then, a good journey to you and a safe one.

They're full of oats.

They take you a good crack.

[driver] Come on, come on!

[Brooke] Well, well, he's not such a bad fellow after all.

[chuckles] [gentle instrumental music] [laughter] [indistinct conversations] [sharp clack] [crowd chattering] [sharp clack] Luck of the devil, Mr. Farebrother.

[Farebrother laughing] Lovely little player though.

Could have made a living at it.

Does make a living at it near enough.

Pays for his butter, if not his bread, aye me lads?

Well, that vicaring's not playing game.

I don't blame him.

[crowd cheering] Well done, Mr. Farebrother!

Found another lamb to fleece, I see, Mr. Farebrother.

More fool you, Mr. Fred, for playing with a clergyman.

The clergy always wins, you know, for God's on their side.

[Bambridge] And so he is, Mrs. Dollop.

-Thank you.

-[Mrs. Dollop] Here you are.

[Bambridge] Master Vincy!

Over here!

I'm afraid I can't afford to pay you just yet, Mr. Bambridge.

[Bambridge] No?

[chuckles] I'm not surprised.

I hope I shan't have to speak to your father about it.

[Farebrother] Mr. Bambridge.

[Bambridge] Mr. Farebrother.

Your winnings, sir.

Very good.

-Good evening.

-[Bambridge] Evening, sir!

[Farebrother] Evening, Mrs. Dollop!

Evening, Mr. Farebrother.

[hooves clopping] [indistinct conversations] [bell ringing] Lydgate!

Excellent, well met!

Are you busy this evening?

Where are you off to?

Just a solitary supper in my lodgings with a book for company.

There's an experiment I want to think about.

Postpone it.

Come home and take your supper at my house.

No, I insist!

Then you can inspect my collection.

What do you say to that?

[elderly lady] Here are the glasses, Camden.

Goodnight!

[mother] Goodnight, Camden dear.

[Farebrother] Goodnight, mother!

[mother] Goodnight.

[Farebrother] Goodnight all!

Formidable.

You're a scientist.

[chuckles] I keep my mind alive.

You have no hobbies yourself?

[Lydgate] So much I want to achieve in my profession.

Both practically and in theory.

I have the ocean to swim in here.

Many men would call Middlemarch a backwater.

It's ideal for my purposes.

I want to work on fever, the prevention and the treatment.

I think I will be able to show dramatic results in a town of this size, you see?

And by example, I want to bring about a general reform in practice.

We shouldn't still be making our money by selling panaceas that are as useful as bottled ditchwater.

I believe you'd like to make Middlemarch a model for all England to follow.

That's exactly what I want to do.

In the country, you can follow your own course more easily.

People let you alone.

You can get on with your own life.

Lydgate, I think I should warn you.

You're new to Middlemarch.

It's not the simple place it seems.

For example, you're my friend, I hope.

But if you vote for me as the chaplain to the new hospital, you'll make an enemy of Bulstrode.

And that is something no one should do lightly.

He can do you harm.

[Lydgate] I hope I act on my beliefs, not out of petty expediency.

Life's too short for that sort of provincial moral shabbiness.

But what does Bulstrode have against you?

That I don't teach his opinions, which he calls spiritual religion.

It's a sort of Christianity that does more to make people feel uncomfortable than to make them feel better.

It makes me shudder.

And he says I haven't the time to look after both hospitals.

That's true... but I could make the time.

And I should be glad of the forty pounds.

I should be happier to earn it in the exercise of my vocation, rather than in the billiard room or at the card table.

[chuckles sadly] But let's dismiss all that.

Just remember, if you do vote with Bulstrode, you're not to cut me in consequence.

Idealists and intelligent men are thin on the ground in Middlemarch.

I simply can't afford to do without you, Lydgate.

Thank you, Pritchard.

Knock at Mr. Fred's door again, Pritchard, and tell him she's gone half past ten.

[Pritchard] Yes, Mrs. Vincy.

Mamma, when Fred comes down, I wish you would not let him have red herrings.

I cannot bear the smell of them all over the house.

Now, Rosamund my love.

A red herring's not much, is it?

We women must learn to put up with little things, and if it's only the smell of a red herring, you can count yourself lucky.

You'll be married someday.

Yes, but not to anyone like Fred.

and not to anyone who has red herrings.

And not to anyone at all from Middlemarch.

So it would seem, my dear, for you have as good as refused the pick of them!

Mamma!

[Mrs. Vincy] What is it, Rosie?

I wish you would not say the pick of them.

It is rather a vulgar expression.

Yes, very likely, my dear.

What should I say, then?

The best of them.

Well, I never.

Do you know that sounds just as plain and common to me.

But with your education, you must know, dear.

Morning, Mother, Rosie.

Rosamund.

Ham, toast, potted beef.

Is there nothing else for breakfast, Pritchard?

Should you like eggs, sir?

Eggs?

No!

Bring me a grilled bone!

Yes, sir.

[Rosamund] Really, Fred.

What would you think of me if I came down at half past ten and ordered grilled bone?

I should think you were an uncommonly fast young lady.

I don't see why brothers have to be so disagreeable.

Disagreeable is a word that describes your feelings, Rosie, not my actions.

I think it describes the smell of a grilled bone.

Not at all.

It describes the sensation in your little nose associated with certain finicking notions acquired in Mrs.

Lemon's finishing school.

Mother, I shall ride over to Stone Court this morning.

Oh, to see Mary Garth, I suppose.

[Mrs. Vincy] It's a pity you have not the patience to go and see your uncle more often, Rosie.

So proud of you as he is, and wanted you to go and live with him.

And now Mary Garth has got in there.

Mary Garth can bear Stone Court because it was that, or becoming a governess.

I would rather not have anything left to me if I must earn it by enduring my uncle's cough and his ugly relations.

Now, Rosie, neither you nor Fred can afford to be so proud.

Uncle Featherstone is fond of you, but he'll leave you nothing unless you show yourselves agreeable.

Those horrid relations of his are camped out in that parlor night and day like carrion crows.

The least you could do is go and sit with him an hour, Rosie.

He's not long for this world.

Very well, Mamma.

I'll go with Fred this morning, just to please you.

I'll even sing "Ye Banks and Braes" for the 137,000th time, if my uncle requests me to.

[Rosamund] Mamma says that there's a new doctor attending Uncle Featherstone.

[Fred] Yes, Lydgate.

Clever fellow too.

Aha, I see!

[Rosamund] What do you mean by that?

[Fred] Now I know why we're going to Stone Court.

[Rosamund] Fred!

[Fred] Damn it, I wish I had a halfway decent horse.

There, there, never mind.

Sugar, come on!

[crows cawing] [piano music] ♪ Ye'll break my heart Ye warbling birds ♪ ♪ That wantons thro' The flowery thorn ♪ [coughing] ♪ Ye mind me of departed joys ♪ ♪ Departed never to return ♪ [Peter, coughing] Very good, missy!

Just like a little blackbird.

And what would she know of departed joys?

Not much I hope!

[laughing] Fred Vincy, come here.

Be off with the lot of you.

Off with you, off with you!

I've got a bone to pick with this boy here.

That's it, sit close, good boy.

Now then, a little bird has told me that you've got into debt with your constant playing at billiards for high stakes.

And the same little bird tells me that you've been borrowing on your expectations.

That you've been telling folk that old Featherstone is leaving you his land and you've been raising ready cash on the strength of it, haven't you, sir?

Indeed, I have not, sir.

Oh, I hear Bulstrode, the banker, tells a different tale.

Then he's mistaken, sir, or he's lying, or your little bird is.

Oh, I can alter my will yet, you know, and I shall, mark my words, unless you contradict the story.

I have contradicted it, Uncle Featherstone.

Ah, yes, but I want documentation from Bulstrode, the banker, saying in black and white that he hears nothing against you in this respect.

I couldn't go and beg Bulstrode for that.

It's not a thing a gentleman should ask.

Suit yourself, young squire.

There's plenty of others I can leave my money to.

Aye, money's a good egg.

[coughs] [coughs] -Here, Mr. Featherstone.

-[continues coughing] You're a good girl, Mary.

You've got a plain face and a sharp tongue and I daresay you'll never get a husband, but you're a good girl.

She's the best girl I know.

Oh, is she now?

Did you get those books I sent you, Mary?

Yes, thank you.

What do you want with more books, Mary?

Because I'm fond of reading, of course, what do you think?

[Peter] Too fond!

You've got the newspaper to read out loud to me every week.

That's enough for any young girl I would have thought.

I like to read to myself as well.

And I shall, too.

You shall not.

I can't abide to see her reading to herself.

It's not natural for any young girl.

You mind not to bring her any more books, do you hear?

[Fred] Yes, sir, I hear.

Ah, my little blackbird.

We haven't had "Home Sweet Home" yet.

Oh, I'm sure everyone thinks I've sung quite enough, Uncle Featherstone.

I'll sing it to you next time I come.

Next time you come?

I may be in my coffin next time you come.

Oh, no.

"Home Sweet Home," if you please, and quick about it.

[sighs] [people whispering] [piano music] [people whispering] ♪ Mid pleasures and palaces ♪ ♪ Though we may roam ♪ ♪ There's no place... ♪ [Rosamund] ♪ Be it ever so humble ♪ ♪ There's no... ♪ [distant] ♪ Home, home ♪ ♪ Sweet, sweet home ♪ ♪ There's no place ♪ ♪ Like home ♪ ♪ There's no place ♪ ♪ Like home ♪ [piano music] [final chord] [Peter] Ah, very pretty, very nice.

[clapping] [Peter] Ah, here he comes at last, the man of the moment!

Dr. Lydgate, this is my niece, Miss Rosamund Vincy.

[Lydgate] How do you do, Miss Vincy?

I had heard Miss Vincy was a musician.

I confess I hadn't expected she would be quite so talented.

The best in Middlemarch, I'll be bound!

Middlemarch has not a very high standard, Uncle.

I'm afraid we must be leaving.

I promised Mamma.

Fred?

Where is my whip?

Oh.

Thank you.

They say his uncle is a baronet with a great estate in Yorkshire.

Yes, there was Lydgate up at Oxford, spent no end of money, but rich men may have paupers for cousins, Rosie.

It always makes a difference to be of a good family.

Did Mary say anything, about me?

Yes, she said she thought you were very unsteady and that if you asked her to marry you, she'd refuse.

Well, she might have waited till I did ask her.

I don't know what you see in her, Fred.

I should never have thought she was a girl to fall in love with.

And how would you know what men fall in love with?

Girls never know.

Did she really say that?

I always tell the truth.

She's right.

I am unsteady.

But I do love her, Rosie.

Oh, Lord, now I shall have to talk to Father and get him to butter up Uncle Bulstrode.

Mmm... [clicks tongue] [Ben] Miss Brooke!

-[Lucy] Miss Brooke!

-[boy] Miss Brooke!

Morning, Lucy!

[Lucy] Can I have some of these, Miss Brooke?

[Dorothea] Of course.

Could you look after Monk for me, Ben?

[rooster crowing] Morning, Mrs. Barnacle.

[Mrs. Barnacle] Morning, Miss Brooke.

[Dorothea] How's your husband?

[Mrs. Barnacle] Still bad, Miss Brooke.

[Dorothea] May I come in?

[Mrs. Barnacle] Very honored, Miss.

-[baby crying] -[coughing] [breathing shallowly] [baby continues crying] Try and give him some of that jelly.

That room's so damp.

I have spoken to Mr. Brooke about the roof, and I shall remind him again.

Thank you, Miss Brooke.

It's very good of you.

[rooster crowing] [sheep braying] [James] Miss Brooke!

I was on my way to see you!

I have a little petitioner for you, if you'll accept him.

What is it?

A little Maltese gentleman.

I'm sorry, but I cannot bear toy breeds.

I should be terrified of treading on it.

My eyesight is rather poor, you know.

Well, well, no matter.

Here John, take this, will you?

[puppy yelping] Can't stand the things myself, but they tell me ladies like 'em.

May I walk with you?

Yes, of course.

It's terrible, the way we live in ease while we let our tenants rot in pigsties.

We deserve to be beaten out of our beautiful houses with a scourge of small cords!

-You think that?

-Yes, I do.

You have your own opinion about everything, Miss Brooke.

Do you know, I...

I envy you that?

Lovegood was telling me you've made a plan for new cottages.

He was full of praise for your ideas.

I'm afraid they will come to nothing.

Uncle won't consent to anything on the estate that costs him money.

It's shameful.

Miss Brooke, I should like to consult your plans if I may.

You see, I am determined to build new cottages at Freshitt.

How very good of you, Sir James!

Nothing would please me more.

How wonderful it would be if we could set a pattern about here.

[Brooke] Sir James Chettam is setting a thoroughly bad example to his neighbors in my view.

These cottages he proposes to build, it's folly and madness.

Well, of course he's a rich man, and I daresay he can afford to pay for his follies, but he should think of the consequences to others, you know.

Well, we shall all end up out of pocket, I make no doubt.

Well, so be it.

I shall go over to Lowick today.

I thought I might ask Casaubon to dine with us again.

-Would that be agreeable?

-Oh, no!

Um, well perhaps not.

Yes, yes, carry on.

Carry on!

[Dorothea] Uncle, I hope you will invite Mr. Casaubon as often as he is willing to come.

Oh, Dodo.

[Dorothea] Well, at least with Mr. Casaubon one can be sure of an intelligent conversation.

[Celia] You don't like Sir James?

He seems determined to do anything you wish.

Sir James is a good creature.

More sensible than anyone would imagine.

I suppose you know he's in love with you.

Celia!

Anyone with eyes can see that he is very much in love with you, and that he thinks you return his affection.

How could he think that?

I have never agreed with him about anything, but the cottages.

[Celia] Well, I thought it right to tell you, because you went on as you always do, never looking about you, never seeing what is quite plain to everybody else.

I must have no more to do with the cottages.

I know it's your favorite fad to draw plans.

Favorite fad, Celia?

Do you think I only care about my fellow creatures' houses in that childish way?

How can one do anything nobly Christian, living among people with such petty thoughts?

[door slams] [Mr. Tegg, weakly] I can't hold it.

I can't be expected... Continue to tepid sponge him like this.

[Mr. Tegg] There, gone again.

He's holding his own.

Is it the cholera, sir?

[Lydgate] No, it's an acute fever, but it isn't cholera, I can assure you of that.

Your children are all well?

Yes, sir, thank you, sir.

[Mr. Tegg] Do you see, it's broke again.

[moans] I wish we could make him more comfortable.

The new hospital will be open soon, then we'll be able to treat fevers of all kinds better than anywhere else in the country.

But your man will be himself again long before then.

That's my opinion.

Thank you, sir.

[mutters] [distant dog barking] [hurried footsteps] [knocking] Good morning, Doctor.

You asked to see me.

[Bulstrode] Ah, yes.

Yes I did.

I was wondering whether you had come to a conclusion as to the chaplaincy in the new hospital.

[chuckles] Is that all?

Dr. Lydgate, it is a matter of supreme importance to me that the spiritual care of the patients be entrusted to a man worthy of the charge.

Do you intend to support me and vote for Mr. Tyke?

I don't know Mr. Tyke.

I'm sure he's a very worthy man if you say so, but so is Farebrother.

And he's done his duties unpaid for long enough.

Look, I'm a medical man, Mr. Bulstrode.

I have no opinion on these matters.

Then I earnestly advise you to form one, Doctor.

A great deal may depend on it.

[horse neighing] What news have you brought, Uncle?

[Brooke] News?

News about what?

Why, about the sheep stealer.

Were you not at the Assizes?

Ah, yes.

Poor John Bunch.

It seems that we can't let him off.

He's to be hanged.

Uncle!

Now there's nothing to be done about it.

Let's go inside.

There's a sharp air, driving.

I feel it, you know.

A very sharp air.

I came back by Lowick, you know.

I talked with Casaubon, saw his library, and that kind of thing.

It seems he greatly enjoyed his visits here over the last few weeks.

Yes...

Yes, Uncle?

Well, he seems to have a high opinion of you, my dear.

A very high opinion indeed.

The fact is, he asked my permission to pay his addresses to you.

I told him you are very young and so forth.

I felt that I had to tell him that there was a very little chance, you know.

But there you are, in the end I had to promise the poor fellow that I would speak with you, so there you have it.

I am very grateful to Mr. Casaubon.

If he makes me an offer, I shall accept him.

That's very well, Dorothea.

But Chettam, have you not thought of him?

He is a very good match.

Our lands lie together, and I believe, my dear, that Chettam, too, wishes to marry you.

I mention it, you see.

There!

It's impossible that I should ever marry Sir James Chettam.

If he thinks of marrying me, he's made a great mistake.

I should have thought Chettam was just the sort of man a woman would like, now.

Please do not mention him in that light again.

Casaubon, now... Well, he's a good match in some ways.

He's a clever man, a scholar.

I never got anything out of him, you know, any ideas.

However, he's a tip-top man, may be bishop.

But you know, he's over five and forty, and his health's not strong.

Marriage can be a noose, my dear.

And you're fond of your own opinions, but a man likes to be master, you know.

I only mention these things to you.

I just mention them.

Uncle, I don't want a husband of my own age.

He should be above me in judgment and experience, knowledge.

And I know I must expect trials.

I've never thought of marriage as mere personal ease.

Uncle, I admire and honor Mr. Casaubon more than any man I ever saw.

Well, my dear.

That being so...

I have a letter for you from Mr. Casaubon here in my pocket.

Yes, here it is.

[Casaubon] My dear Miss Brooke, I have you guardian's permission to address you on a subject than which I have none more at heart.

From the first hours of our acquaintance, I discerned in you a rare combination of elements uniquely compatible with my own needs: elevation of thought and capability of devotion, allied to graces of sex beyond all my hopes.

Had I not made your acquaintance, I might well have gone to the last without any attempt to lighten my solitariness by a matrimonial union.

To be accepted by you as your husband, my dear Miss Brooke, I should regard as the highest of providential gifts.

In return I can, at least, offer you an affection hitherto unwasted.

[Celia] Uncle tells me Mr. Casaubon has been asked to dine again.

I hope there's someone else there, then I shan't have to hear him eating his soup.

What's so remarkable about his soup eating?

Really, Dodo.

Can't you hear how he scrapes his spoon?

Celia, please don't make any more observations of that kind.

Why not?

They are quite true.

Many things are true which only the commonest minds observe.

Then I think the commonest minds must be rather useful.

I wish Mr. Casaubon's mother had a commoner mind, she might have taught him better.

Celia, please!

It is right to tell you, Celia, that I am engaged to marry Mr. Casaubon.

Oh, Dodo, I hope you will be happy!

I beg your pardon if I said anything to hurt you.

Oh, never mind, Kitty.

Don't grieve.

We should never admire the same people.

It's been a pleasure!

[laughs] Enjoy the cards.

We will.

[indistinct conversation] Yes, yes.

I dare say you're used to far grander parties than this, Dr. Lydgate.

We like to believe our little gatherings are just as jolly.

[Chicheley] You can't be serious about Tyke?

Oh no, not for me, sir.

His sermons are nothing but evangelical doctrine.

Eh, Lydgate?

You get none of that cant from Farebrother.

He'll sit down to a game of whist with anyone.

[Standish] And take all your money if you're not quick-sharp.

[Chicheley] Which way will you vote, Mr. Vincy?

Not on the board anymore, Chicheley, and glad of it.

Whichever way I cast my vote, I'd be offending someone.

What do you think, Dr. Lydgate?

I know very little of the case.

But I don't think these appointments should be made on the basis of personal liking.

If you want to get real reform, sometimes the only way is to pension off all those good fellows everyone's so fond of.

Hang your reforms!

There's no greater humbug in the world.

What's wrong with good fellows?

There's not enough of them about, I'd say.

Oh no, Mr. Farebrother, you've done it again!

Will you look at that, Farebrother's won again!

Indeed he has, every time.

How much do I owe you, Fred?

[Fred] Five pennies please, Mrs. Plymdale.

[Mrs. Plymdale] You'll have me in the workhouse, you know that, don't you?

Lydgate!

I thought you might be avoiding me, having decided to vote against me.

I haven't yet decided on my vote.

In any case, I should never cut you.

Sometimes feel I shall starve in this town for want of intelligent conversation.

Still, first things first.

Here's the serious business of the evening.

Come and sit down to a game of whist, man.

[Mrs. Plymdale] Oh Doctor Lydgate, please do.

Thank you, no.

No?

Ah, you're not the serious man I took you for.

You're too young and light for this sort of thing.

[jaunty piano tune] Now what, trumps and hearts?

[laughter] Dr. Lydgate.

Miss Vincy.

I fear you must find us awfully dull in Middlemarch.

When I think of how we must seem, when looked at through your eyes...

I think we must seem very stupid.

You have lived in Paris.

I have only been once to London.

Just a raw country girl, you see.

You call yourself a raw country girl?

Oh well, I pass at Middlemarch.

But I am really afraid of you.

Well, I've made up my mind to take Middlemarch as it comes.

I'm sure you have nothing to fear.

I have certainly found some charms in Middlemarch which are much greater than I had expected to find.

You mean the rides towards Tipton and Lowick?

Everyone is pleased with those.

No, I mean something much nearer to me, Miss Vincy.

[sighs] [yelling] [Mrs. Plymdale] Oh, Mr. Farebrother!

I do not believe what you have done!

-You plunderer, you thief!

-[indistinct conversation] You've ruined me, you have.

[indistinct conversations] [somber instrumental music] [Bulstrode] Farebrother is a man deeply painful to contemplate.

He lacks spirituality.

He brings his calling into disrepute.

A great deal may depend on it.

Well, I go for Farebrother.

Put forty pounds in his pockets and you'll do no harm.

He's a good fellow, without too much of the parson about him!

Ho, indeed, Mr. Hawley, for he spends half his days in the Green Dragon Inn playing billiards for money.

[indistinct arguing] Mr. Tyke, now, is a real gospel preacher, and I should vote against my conscience if I voted against Mr. Tyke.

Vote against Bulstrode, I suppose you mean sir, it's all the same to you, I dare say.

I beg your pardon sir!

[Brooke] Good afternoon to you!

Am I the last?

[Wrench] No, no, Mr. Brooke, our chairman Mr. Bulstrode hasn't arrived yet.

-[Brooke] Ah!

-[Chicheley] Nor his protégé, the uniquely talented Dr. Lydgate.

I say it's damnable that one man should have this town in his pocket just because half the town owes him money!

[hushing] [Brooke] Ah, here we are.

Good day, gentlemen.

Oh, I see we are not all yet assembled.

Nevertheless, we meet today, gentlemen, as Directors of the Board of the hospital to appoint a chaplain.

The issue is between Mr. Farebrother and Mr. Tyke.

I believe the qualities of each candidate are well enough known to us all by this time, but if anyone wishes to speak?

Ah yes, well, Farebrother and Tyke now, both excellent men in their way, you know.

And a Chaplain with a salary, I am convinced by my friends that Mr. Tyke is everything he should be.

How's that?

Apostolic and so forth, you know, so I am sure we are all very happy to come here and vote for him.

Seems to me you've been crammed, Mr. Brooke, sir!

-[all] Hear, hear!

-What?

[Hawley] What about Farebrother?

[man] Indeed, sir!

He has been doing the work without pay, and if pay is to be given, it should be given to him.

I call it a confounded job to take the thing away from him.

[man] Absolutely, hear, hear.

Always pays his debts.

Yes, well, Farebrother, yes-- Excuse me, Mr. Hawley, Mr. Brooke has been fully informed of Mr. Farebrother's character.

Yes, by his enemies!

I take it there is no personal hostility concerned here!

I'll swear there damn well is, though!

Gentlemen, perhaps we should put the matter to the vote now.

If you would write the name of your chosen candidate on the slip provided, gentlemen?

[murmuring] [Brooke] Ah, here's our man!

Apologies, gentlemen.

[Bulstrode] Well, gentlemen.

I perceive the votes are equally divided at present.

Dr. Lydgate would you write down your vote, please?

Well, that's settled it.

Damned scandalous business.

You seem to speak with some peculiar meaning, sir.

I expect you to vote with Mr. Bulstrode, that's all, sir.

Do you regard that as offensive, sir?

It may be offensive to others.

But I shall not desist from voting with him on that account.

[pen scratching] Gentlemen, Mr. Tyke is hereby elected to the post of chaplain.

Thank you all very much.

[Brooke] Well, well, there you are.

[indistinct mumbling] [somber instrumental music] [peaceful instrumental music]