Episode #212 - Night is drawing nearer and nearer to Collinwood, and the man who disappeared into another night has not been found. But out of the falling dusk another man has come, a stranger who is not a stranger, a man with a face long familiar to those who live at Collinwood--a man who has come a great distance, but still bears, deep within him, a soul shaped by the far country from which he came (if they're speaking of Barnabas, he's American; what's with this far country from which he came)?
Barnabas gazes at his portrait, then slips off his cape and drops it onto the foyer table. Liz comes downstairs; he turns to face her. She stops. I don't believe it! she exclaims, pleasantly surprised. I beg your pardon? he asks. It IS Barnabas! she says, continuing downstairs. And you're Elizabeth! he says, Cousin Elizabeth. Cousin--yes, I guess I am, she says, bemused. He apologizes for not letting her know in advance that he was coming. It's uncanny, she says--that portrait over there, have you seen it? Yes, he says. They walk over toward it together. It's extraordinary, isn't it? he asks. If it weren't for the clothes... she says, forgive me for staring, but for a moment it was as if I'd seen... A ghost? he finishes. The likeness is remarkable, says Liz, I can hardly believe it. The Collins blood always had a certain persistent strength, he says, holding up his right hand with the onyx ring on it. This is no way to greet a relative, smiles Liz--welcome to Collinwood. She gives him her hand; he kisses it.
Thank you, Cousin, he says, and the camera homes in on the ring, a twin of that in the portrait.
Forgive my curiosity, she says, but I understood that Barnabas Collins, the son of Naomi and Joshua, died a few years after he went to England. That's true, says Barnabas, but apparently the family history didn't tell of his marriage, or the fact that he had a son who proved to be my great great grandmother. How strange that no one every heard of it, says Liz. When one considers the communications in those days, he says, the family separated by great distances sometimes lost track of some of its members. I suppose you're right, says Liz, smiling with delight. She suggests they go into the drawing room. Thank you, he says, following her in. So there's a whole branch of the Collins family flourishing in England and I never knew it, says Liz. Flourishing is hardly the word for it, he says--alas, I am the sole remaining member. I'm sorry to hear that, says Liz, have you no family of your own? As yet, no, he says. But there's still hope? she says, taking on a matchmaker face. There's always hope, he says. Anything definite? she asks. (nosy Liz!) Not as yet, he replies. Did you come to America to find a bride? Liz asks. That wasn't my sole purpose, but I don't rule it out as a possibility, he says. I'm glad to hear that, smiles Liz--shall we sit down? Thank you, he says, and they sit together on the sofa. What were your reasons for coming to America? asks Liz--a business trip, or just for a visit?--forgive my asking all these questions. At the moment, I consider it a visit, he says, but there's a possibility I might settle here, in Collinsport. I can hardly believe it, she says--another Collins, I can't tell you how pleased I am--now you're descended from Barnabas, but the rest of the family, the whole history, I want to hear it, please give me the details. There's very little to tell, he says. I doubt that, she says. Perhaps there's too much for this initial visit, he amends--after all, I only wanted to present myself and pay my respects. Surely you'll stay for dinner, she says. I don't want to impose on your time any further, he says, I did come unannounced. That doesn't matter, she says, but please stay a little while--you have other cousins to meet--my daughter Carolyn, my brother Roger and his little boy, David. I look forward to it eagerly he says, rising, but perhaps another time--I may come again, may I not? Certainly, she says, standing, and please don't feel you have to be so formal. You're very kind, he says. I realize I should ask you to stay here at Collinwood, says Liz, but at the moment, the household is a little upset, we have temporary guests. Please, even to think of it is sufficient courtesy, he says, but I think you understand when I say I want more independent quarters. I understand perfectly, says Liz, but you must come again, and often. I shall, he assures her, walking over to the window. I've always loved Collinwood, he says, it's just as I remembered it. Remembered it? asks Liz, puzzled--but you've never been here before. I feel as though I have, he says (good catch)--descriptions, stories, they've all been handed down from generation to generation, and being here now is like returning to a memory from childhood--don't be surprised if I know Collinwood quite well--even the Old House near Widows' Hill, where our poor ancestors Josette and Jeremiah lived for a time--and I understand that Joshua Collins, my direct ancestor, lived there with his family--even after this house was built. You certainly were well schooled in the family history, says Liz approvingly. I wouldn't be a Collins if I weren't, he points out, walking away from the window--and I wouldn't be a Collins if I didn't recognize in my blood, in my soul, that my roots are here--and perhaps my destiny. (gives me shivers) Forgive me, he tells Liz, who looks at him with a fond smile, I tend to romanticize--promise you'll pay no attention to me. I understand, she says. Now I must go, he says. You must be tired after your trip, she says. Yes, it was a long and difficult journey, he agrees--like coming from one world to another. (exactly like!) Is life in England so different from what it is here? she asks. Of course not, he says, and yet so much is so different--but Collinwood hasn't changed, I mean from what I've always heard--and I can't tell you how grateful I am for that--how very grateful. He heads for the door, Liz looking after him with a big grin on her face.
Collinwood foyer - Vicki and David head downstairs. Make sure you get back here in time for dinner, she tells him, yesterday when you went out to play... I forgot, says David, grinning, I won't again. Let's hope not, says Vicki, you know what it does to Mrs. Johnson. I don't think she was angry for me being late, says David, I think she was angry because Mr. Loomis didn't show up at all. You just forget about Mr. Loomis and see you get back here on time, insists Vicki. He didn't come back here last night or today, did he? asks David. No, he didn't, says Vicki. Maybe he's gone for good, suggests David. Maybe, agrees Vicki. You didn't like him, did you? asks David. Are you going out to play, or aren't you? asks Vicki. I sort of liked him, says David, I sort of hope he comes back. (perhaps the once-murderous boy appreciates the murderous young man Willie is.) He leaves after slipping on his coat. Vicki closes the doors behind him.
Drawing room - You must promise to come whenever you like, Liz tells Barnabas, you're not a stranger, you know, you're a member of the family. Vicki enters, sees the stranger and apologizes--she didn't know Liz was busy. Come in, please, invites Liz, I want you to meet a cousin of mine. Vicki stares at him, smiling, already knowing who he is. Yes, this is my cousin, Barnabas, from England, says Liz--Barnabas, this is Vicki--Victoria Winters--she's my nephew's tutor. Barnabas kisses her hand. I'm glad to meet you, he says, already entranced by Vicki. I don't have to tell you that Mr. Collins is a descendent of the young man whose portrait hangs in the foyer, says Liz. No you don't, agrees Vicki, you look so much alike. Vicki is more a member of the family than a tutor, says Liz. Do you let them call you Vicki when your name is Victoria? inquires Barnabas. Yes, she says, we're not very formal with each other. But the name of Victoria is so beautiful to me, I couldn't possibly surrender a syllable of it, he says. Vicki looks embarrassed. Forgive me, says Barnabas, but as I told my cousin, I indulge in fanciful attitudes from time to time; they're not to be taken seriously--and now, good evening. Liz offers to walk him to the door, but tells her he'd feel more at home if he sees himself out. He bids Liz good evening, then says, "Goodbye Miss Winters...Miss Victoria"--then bows deeply, smiling at her. He leaves, exiting the house.
What an extraordinary man, remarks Vicki. I didn't even know I had a cousin in England, says Liz, and now here he is. He's so... begins Vicki. Formal? asks Liz. He's almost courtly! laughs Vicki, grinning. Both ladies are clearly delighted. That's the way a true Collins should be, says Liz--courteous, well-spoken. He certainly is that, agrees Vicki. It's quite amazing, says Liz, sitting at the desk, he was brought up on stories of Collinwood, he knows the place as if he'd lived here. Is he going to stay here? asks Vicki. No, says Liz, he prefers, as he put it, more independent quarters in town--I guess it's just as well at the moment. Did Mr. McGuire find Willie or find out where he is? asks Vicki. No, says Liz, he's still out looking for him, and I hope to heaven he finds him--knowing he's around and not being able to keep an eye on him troubles me, to say the least. When I saw him from my window the other night, I was positive he was leaving, says Vicki--I saw his sea bag with him. He couldn't have left, says Liz, his clothes were here the next morning. But he was carrying something, says Vicki. I'd hate to think what he'd take, laments Liz--why did I ever let him set foot in this house? She looks extremely unhappy.
Old House - a dog barks. David is busy walking up one step, then jumping off, then two. On the fourth jump, he falls down. Ouch, he says, holding his hurtful leg. The doors open behind him. David senses a presence. Who's there? asks David. Barnabas, the man replies. Barnabas Collins? asks David, backing away. Barnabas enters the house. David has retreated up a few stairs, keeping the banister for protection between him and this apparition. You recognize me? asks Barnabas. Yes, says David, I've seen your portrait a million times. You mean my ancestor's portrait, don't you? asks Barnabas. You mean, you're not the man from the portrait in the foyer? Asks David. How could I be? asks Barnabas. You mean you're not a ghost? asks David. Do you really think I am? asks Barnabas. Of course, says David. I'm not sure I believe you, says Barnabas. How do you know my name? asks David. Your Aunt Elizabeth told me I had a cousin named David, says Barnabas. Cousin? asks David--no kidding, you're my cousin, and you're not a ghost? If I were a ghost, would you be talking to me so calmly? asks Barnabas. Yes I would, says the boy candidly, I've talked to ghosts before, right here in this house--and when you came in, I thought I was seeing another ghost. I'm sorry to disappoint you, says Barnabas. That's OK, says David--so, you're really my cousin? That's right, says Barnabas, now tell me more about those ghosts. My favorite, of course, is Josette, says David--that's her portrait over there--he points to the far wall. Our ancestor from over a hundred years ago, says Barnabas. That's right, says David. Barnabas approaches the portrait and stares at it. David joins him. And she actually appeared to you and talked to you? asks Barnabas. Yes, and even now I know when she's here, and in the room, says David. Oh? asks Barnabas, gazing at the portrait. The picture glows, says David, and the air smells like jasmine, and if you think very, very hard, you can get a message--do you want to try it right now? I don't think so, says Barnabas. You're not afraid, are you? asks David. Perhaps I am, admits Barnabas. Don't be, says David, she wouldn't hurt you--she'd help you--you know, kind of protect you--especially if you're a Collins. I'll have to remember that, says Barnabas. Do you want me to show you around? asks David. That won't be necessary, says Barnabas. But there are thousands of secret passageways upstairs, says David, climbing up a few steps again. I know, says Barnabas. You know? asks David--you mean you've been here before? No, but as I explained to your aunt, I heard so many stories about Collinwood when I was a child, I feel as if I've been here all my life, replies Barnabas. What about the passageway that leads to a little room on top of the roof? asks David. A winding staircase, recalls Barnabas. That's right! says David, smiling. And a view of the sea, adds Barnabas, beyond Widows' Hill. You've got it perfect! says David--and you know what that room is best for? Looking at the sea, says Barnabas, joining him on the stairs. Yes, says David, but at sunrise, when the water--when the ocean--when the sun comes over the ocean, everything begins to change color--right in front of your very eyes. Sunrise? asks Barnabas wistfully. I come out here sometimes in the morning, says David, before anybody knows I'm awake--would you like to come with me sometime? Perhaps, sometime, says Barnabas, passing by David on the steps and gazing upstairs--sunrise, he says reverently in a near whisper. You've never seen anything like it, David assures him. I'm sure, says Barnabas. What's the matter? asks David. Nothing, what makes you ask? queries Barnabas. For a moment, you seemed sort of sad, says David, like you were remembering something you lost a long, long time ago.
But I haven't lost anything, says Barnabas. I was talking about a sunrise, maybe it was a sunrise you saw, only it's your home, says David, and it makes you sad to think about it. Barnabas looks melancholy. Perhaps, he says. Do you miss your home? asks David. I did for a long time, says Barnabas, but I don't anymore. He walks slowly downstairs, staring around him with obvious pleasure and recognition. He looks triumphant. (So much conveyed in this scene on Frid's part--sorrow, guilt, longing--almost touchable in its intensity.)
David returns home, where Vicki helps him off with his coat. Here you are, says Liz, just in time for dinner. Did Mr. Loomis come back? asks David. No, says Vicki, and I want you to stop asking about him. I thought I saw him earlier, says David--but only it turned out to be somebody else--my cousin--I met him at the Old House, where I was playing. Barnabas was at the Old House? asks Liz. Yes, says David, hoisting himself up onto the foyer table--at first I thought he was the ghost of the man in that portrait, but then I was disappointed to find out he wasn't. Why would he go to the Old House? wonders Liz. I don't know, says David, but he certainly knows his way around, for someone who's never been there before. He told me he was brought up on stories of Collinwood, says Liz. He must have heard a lot of stories, says David. Not only stories, but perhaps he saw pictures and drawings, suggests Liz. Maybe, says David--you know, I think there's something funny. Go up and wash your hands, you'll be late for dinner, says Vicki. He talks funny, says David--the words he uses--he talks the way people do in books. Speaking correctly is hardly a fault, says Liz. I didn't say it was a fault, David tells her, I meant that it just sounded gunny. I hope you start sounding equally funny, teases Liz, now hurry up and get ready for dinner. She leaves. David climbs off the table and goes over to look at Barnabas' portrait. Didn't you hear your aunt? asks Vicki. You know, he doesn't look anything like the portrait, says David. That's ridiculous, he looks exactly like it, says Vicki.
No he doesn't, says David--the man in this portrait seems as if he's angry at someone, but Barnabas, my cousin that I met at the Old House, he seems more sad than angry, seems as if he's remembering something he lost a long, long time ago--maybe that's when I thought he was a ghost--he seemed as if he was haunting the rooms, instead of walking through them. (astute child)
The portrait of Barnabas dissolves into Barnabas himself, who stands in the Old House drawing room looking up at Josette's portrait. "I was a Collins," he says with sadness, "why didn't you protect me--where were you when I was turned into something that even my own father loathed? If his ghost is here with yours, tell him I've come home, and I claim this house as mine--and whatever power you or he may have is ended--I am free now, and alive--the chains with which he bound me are broken, and I've returned to live the life I never had."
He turns away from the portrait. "Whatever that may turn out to be."
NOTES: Wow. Every time I watch this, I fall in love with Barnabas all over again. I pity him, wish I could ease his pain, but all I can do is watch and be amazed at Jonathan Frid's unparalleled performance in these early episodes. He was amusing with David, courtly with Liz and Vicki, but when left alone in the Old House, his anguish was palpable. What power did his father and Josette have that is now ended, I wonder?
I always love it when Barnabas tells Vicki he wouldn't surrender a syllable of her pretty name. It's a great pick up line, isn't it? LOL.
David's blooper is another classic, but he recovers so well, with a smile on his face, you barely realize it's a mistake. We all get tongue-tied sometimes, and do the same thing he did. His scene with Barnabas was a true delight. Everyone he met, especially Liz, was so thrilled to see him, and Vicki was fascinated by the new arrival.
Welcome to Collinwood, "Cousin" Barnabas!
Episode #213 - These are uneasy days at Collinwood. Strangers have invaded the privacy of the great house, creating doubts and fears in the minds of every member of the Collins family. One of them has disappeared, and that n itself has created even greater mystery.
Jason informs Liz that someone broke into the house and stole Willie's things from his room. Liz wants her $500 back, but Jason is determined to find Willie. Liz angrily tells Jason she can tolerate only so much. When Carolyn enters and wants to know what they're arguing about, Liz refuses to tell her, and Carolyn leaves the house in a huff.
Blue Whale - Burke and Joe toast to the good news that Maggie and Joe are getting married. Carolyn comes in, but walks past Burke, who tries to say hi, and takes another table. Burke tells Joe he deserved Carolyn's disdain, and Joe advises him to try to talk to Carolyn. Burke makes the effort, but she snubs him again, and tells him to go away. Joe tries his luck with his former girlfriend, and to him, she expresses her fears over what's going on at Collinwood with her mother.
Joe suggests that she could be friends with Burke, but she confesses she still has feelings for Devlin and hopes he had some good feelings toward her even though he used her to further his own ends. Talk to Burke, urges Joe, and find out for yourself. Joe leaves to pick up Maggie. Burke gazes at Carolyn, who looks at him, then looks away. He continues to sip his drink. Carolyn finally gives in, goes to him, and brings her back to his table. Burke tells her he's ashamed of how he used her to hurt her family, and she admits that she hoped he liked her for herself. He asks if they can be friends now, and apologizes for hurting her. She had been warned about him, she says ruefully.
He says he's sorry he upset her and wishes things could be different. Carolyn leaves.
Drawing room - Liz and Jason are going around again; she refuses to give him anymore money.
How much to get rid of him forever? She asks, but he won't give her a price. They argue about what took place 18 years ago. Carolyn overhears their argument. Liz says she wishes they had never met, at which point Carolyn opens the doors and demands to know what they were fighting about. Liz insists it involved the night Willie tried to attack Carolyn, then excuses herself and leaves. Carolyn demands Jason tell her what they were discussing and what, exactly, happened 18 years ago--she is determined to learn why her mother is afraid of Jason.
He nastily advises her to stop asking questions or she'll get Liz into big trouble.
NOTES: Of course, it was fascinating to hear that "someone" broke in and took all Willie's things. Wonder who that was? For those who might not realize it, or have figured it out from today's first show, Burke cozied up to Carolyn, romantically, in order to facilitate his plan to hurt her family. As you can see, she fell hard for him (she's even younger than Vicki, and he probably seemed so sophisticated to the teenage girl), but they patched things up today, with Joe's help. He's another in the Carolyn-Dumped-Me club, the president, probably, so he understands Carolyn's hurt about Burke using her better than she realizes.
Carolyn overheard Jason and Liz arguing twice, and she caught enough to be suspicious that the man is blackmailing her mother. Jason, the supercilious SOB, warned her to stay out of it, or her mother would end up being in trouble. Such a sweetheart of a guy, huh, blackmailing and threatening these women?
Love, Robin
