Howards End

Charles, that's not being chivalrous.

Don't worry, Mr. Wilcox. There's no place in this game for chivalry.

It tends to bring out the animal in all of us.

Evie, not fair!

"Dearest Meg, I'm having a glorious time.

"I like them all.

"They are the very happiest, jolliest family that you could imagine.

"The fun of it is that they think me a noodle...

"and say so...

"at least Miss Wilcox does.

"Oh, Meg, shall we ever learn to talk less?

"Oh, but, Meg, Meg, dearest, dearest Meg...

"I don't know what to say, or what you will say.

"Paul Wilcox and I are in love.

We are engaged."

- Annie. - Well! You Schlegel girls.

- Tibby, look. - Margaret, if I may interfere.

- What on earth is going on? - I ‒

I can tell you nothing, Aunt Juley. I know no more than you do. I ‒

We only met the Wilcoxes last spring while we were hiking in Germany.

Oh, dear.

Obviously, someone must go down to this Howards House and make inquiries.

- Howards End. - No, Margaret, inquiries are necessary.

What do we know about these Wilcoxes? Are they our sort?

- Are they likely people? - But, Aunt Juley...

what does it matter?

Helen's in love. That's all I need to know.

Would you please get me a train timetable, dear?

- Morning. - Morning.

Paul?

I'm afraid Crane has reported sick again.

But he was to take me to the Warringtons today for tennis.

- I told him. - He's shamming, of course.

You should get rid of him, Father. Hire a new chauffeur.

Mother, we're off. Good-bye.

Charlie, Charlie, wait, wait!

- What? - Is Papa there?

Wait a minute. We've got some cherries.

Dad?

Evie.

All right. We're off.

- Bye. - Bye-bye.

- About last night ‒ - Nothing happened.

- I'm afraid I lost my head, rather. - Yes, we both did.

It must have been the moonlight. Except there was no moon.

Well, that's quite all right.

- Do you mind? - No.

You see, I've no money of my own, and I still have to make my way in Nigeria.

It's beastly out there for a white woman, what with the climate...

and the natives and all that.

- I say, I do think you're a ripping girl. - It's quite all right.

No one knows about it.

- Meg! I wrote to my sister. - Oh, no. You didn't.

Yes, I'm sorry. Look, she's sure to come down.

- We must stop her. - We'll have to send a telegram.

- Oh, Crane's off sick. - Isn't there a bicycle?

Oh, yes, there is, somewhere.

That will be one and threepence, halfpenny, sir.

M.J. Schlegel, Six Wickham Place, London, West.

Dear Meg, all over.

Wish I'd never written.

Tell no one. Helen.

Excuse me. I'm looking for somewhere called Howards House.

- My parcel? - The porter has it.

Mr. Wilcox. This lady wants Howards End.

Forgive my asking. Are you the younger Mr. Wilcox, or the elder?

The younger. Ah.

This station's abominably organized. If I had my way, the whole lot of them should get the sack.

- Thank you, Bernard. - Thank you, sir.

Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Miss Schlegel's aunt.

Oh, rather. Yes, Miss Schlegel's stopping with us.

- Do you want to see her? - Well, that would be very nice, yes.

I could run you up in the motor.

All the Schlegels are exceptional.

They are, of course, British to the backbone but their father was German...

and that is why they care for literature and art.

Uh, just one minute.

Wilcox, Howards End.

I'd like you to know that I come in no spirit of interference.

I'm here to represent the family...

and to talk to you about Helen, Mr. Wilcox.

My niece and you.

Miss Schlegel and, uh, and myself?

I trust there's been no misunderstanding.

Well, it is true that I am engaged to be married...

but to another young lady, not to Miss Schlegel.

Helen wrote to us, Mr. Wilcox. She has told us everything.

Good God, it's some foolery of Paul's.

- But you are Paul. - No, I'm not.

- Then why did you say so at the station? - I said nothing of the sort.

- I beg your pardon, you did. - I beg your pardon, I did not.

My name is Charles.

Do you mean to tell me that Paul and your niece have ‒

The idiot!

Damn fool!

Look, uh, I warn you.

It's useless. Uh, Paul hasn't a penny.

No need to warn us. The warning is all the other way.

But he hasn't told us, whereas your niece has lost no time in publishing the news.

If I were a man, Mr. Wilcox, for that last remark, I'd box your ears.

You're not fit to sit in the same room as my niece...

- All I know is she spread the news ‒ - Or to clean her boots.

- Might I finish my sentence, please? - No!

I decline to argue with such a person.

- Let me out of this car this instant! - Don't try and stand up!

- Stop! Stop! - Sit down. Sit down!

- Stop! - Just sit down!

For goodness sakes!

Just ‒

Push it down.

Oh, Helen.

It's all right.

It will, I think, be generally admitted...

that Beethoven's Fifth Symphony is the most sublime noise...

ever to have penetrated the ear of man.

What does it mean?

We can hardly fail to recognize in this music...

a mighty drama:

The struggle of a hero beset by perils...

riding to magnificent victory and ultimate triumph...

as described in the development section of the first movement.

What I want to draw your attention to now...

is the third movement.

We no longer hear the hero, but a goblin.

Thank you, Mother.

A single, solitary goblin...

walking across the universe...

from beginning to end.

Why a goblin?

- I beg your pardon? - Why a goblin?

Well, it's obvious.

The goblin signifies the spirit of negation.

But why specifically a goblin?

Panic and emptiness. That is what the goblin signifies.

Minor, spelling panic.

Major, magnificent.

A hero, triumphant.

Miss.

Excuse me, miss, my umbrella.

Miss.

Miss! Miss!

Mrs. Wilcox, I haven't got her wedding dress wet.

Hurry up, Charles.

Charles, it's bucketing down!

- Go on. In you go. - Good-bye.

- Darling, the flowers. - Good luck.

- Paul, my hat's in your hand. - Good-bye.

See you there.

What astonishing bad luck...

that in the whole of London they could find no flat to rent...

except the one bottled right up against our library window.

Who could find no flat?

Tibby, the Wilcoxes.

Surely even you remember that business last summer with Helen and Paul Wilcox.

Paul Wilcox.

The one I was expected to thrash within an inch of his life?

Oh, miss!

What is it? Is Tibby ill?

Tibby's making tea.

Oh, well.

- If it's nothing worse than that. - Now, Helen ‒

Oh, dear. Something odd has happened.

Promise me you won't mind.

It's the Wilcoxes.

They've taken the flat opposite for the wedding of their son.

The other son.

You do mind.

Will Paul Wilcox point at our house and say...

"There lives the girl who tried to catch me"?

Ridiculous.

They've only taken the flat for a few weeks, the porter said.

Do we bow, or do we cut them dead?

Darling...

why don't you take up Cousin Frieda's invitation...

and go to Hamburg for those few weeks?

Yes, I think I shall.

Not that it matters, but...

one wouldn't want to keep bumping into Wilcoxes.

Don't hog all those scones, Tibby.

Is that young man for us, do you suppose?

He is for us.

Uh, if you'll pardon me, miss. You took my umbrella.

Quite inadvertently, I'm sure.

At the Ethical Hall. "Music and meaning."

I'm so sorry. I do nothing but steal umbrellas.

Do come in and choose one. It's all right, Annie.

Let's see, is yours a hooky or a knobbly?

Mine's a knobbly, at least I think it is. That's Tibby's. How about this one?

I suppose you really oughtn't open these indoors. Never mind.

No, it's all gone along the seams. It's an appalling umbrella.

It must be mine.

- Oh, I'm so sorry. - Has my sister stolen your umbrella?

Oh, not again, Helen. She is an incorrigible thief. I am so sorry.

- I say, do stay for tea, Mr. ‒ - Bast.

- Mr. Bast, won't you stay for tea? - Yes, do stay, Mr. Bast.

It's the least we can do having made you all wet.

Our brother's upstairs, so you'll have a chaperon.

- Look, he's soaked, Meg. Please come up. - Helen, put him upstairs.

What did you think of the lecture? I don't agree about the goblins.

But I do about the heroes and shipwreck.