All language subtitles for The.Stalls.Of.Barchester.1971.720p.BluRay.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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Morning, Dr Black.

Morning.

(Black) 'The matter began,
as far as I'm concerned,

'in the November of 1932,

'when I was cataloguing the library
of Barchester Cathedral.

'It was a disappointing collection,

'and what volumes of value I found
were much fallen into decay.

'My task was scarcely furthered
by the unhelpfulness of the librarian,

'at whose door I found myself
bound to place the unhappy confusion

'that I discovered wherever I turned.'

I trust you prosper in your task,
Dr Black?

It's profoundly uninteresting,
I'm afraid.

I sometimes wonder whether
there shouldn't be a tax on authors.

Mere poverty seems to be insufficient
to deter them from writing.

Now, if they had to pay
for the privilege...

A great many librarians would be
seeking fresh employment

and there'd be
far fewer books to catalogue.

Have you nearly finished?

With the numbered volumes, yes.

In fact, I was just coming to ask you
if there was anything else here

you thought worth
including in my description.

Perhaps I can surprise you.

Nothing you haven't seen there,
I think.

What about the manuscript class?

Hardly a fruitful field, I fear.

Some mute, inglorious Milton,
perhaps.

Canon Marcel's annotation
to the Epistle of the Thessalonians?

Professor R D Ellington's
Mathematical Tract?

I think not.

Well, Cyrus, of course.

- Cyrus?
- An epic poem in eight cantos.

Product of a country clergyman's
leisure.

I wonder if he read it
to his parishioners.

I expect he did.

What's this?
I don't remember... Oh.

Yes, of course,
I'd completely forgotten.

"Papers of the Venerable
Archdeacon Haynes.

"Bequeathed in 1894
by his sister Letitia Haynes."

Haynes? I know that name.

I read something about it
quite recently.

Our old Dean said the box should never
have been accepted by the library.

He kept it locked up in the deanery.

He said it never would be
opened while he was in charge.

Strange.

I wanted to know
what was in that box for years.

You'd better have a look at it.

Archdeacon Haynes.
Now, archdeacon of where?

Here, if you remember.

Of course, yes.
About 50 years ago.

I recently read his obituary in an
old copy of the Gentleman's Magazine.

His death, as I remember,
was hardly becoming to the cloth.

It was most unfortunate,
the whole affair.

And unexplained.

I wonder if the box...

I mean, one hardly likes to think...

Do you wish me
to examine the contents?

I think it can hardly matter.

Our former dean was adamant
in his refusal, of course,

but that was many years ago.

Probably of no interest anyway.

And if the matter should be
objectionable or...

Obscene...

Well, we can leave it unpublished.

- Quite.
- I have the key.

Well, I'll leave you with it.

I trust you'll keep me informed,
should you discover anything of interest.

'Dr Haynes arrived
in Barchester Close in 1872,

'where he took up residence
with his sister as a junior deacon.

'The dignity of archdeacon
had long been the object of his wishes,

'and there were few who denied

'that he was admirably suited
for the position.

(Bells tolling)

'His predecessor, Dr Pulteney,
however, lived to a great age

'and showed no willingness
to relinquish his post.'

Good morning, young man!

Good morning, archdeacon.

(♪ Choral singing)

(Letitia) 'The archdeacon
will be 84 tomorrow.'

- Really, one would hardly believe it.
- A marvellous age.

(Letitia) 'You're invited to a modest
celebration in his honour.'

- Long life, Dr Pulteney. Long life.
- Long life.

Many happy returns
on this auspicious day.

(Letitia) 'Mr Robinson was arguing
most heatedly with Canon Arnold.'

Canon Arnold insists that we believe
every word of the Holy Bible.

Mr Robinson cited Methuselah.

"How could anyone" ' he said,

"be expected to believe that
a man had lived for 900 years?"

I find it entirely credible.

And these are the days of the years
of Abraham's life, as he lived.

103 score and 15 years.

(Letitia) 'Catherine tells me
there is an infection in the town.'

Indeed.

Three people in Buxton Street
have died

and two more families are very ill.

(Bells ring)

The archdeacon's late this morning.

- Good morning, young man.
- Good morning, archdeacon.

♪ As it was in the beginning

♪ Is now and ever shall be

♪ World without end... ♪

- The archdeacon will be 90 on Monday.
- A marvellous age.

(Letitia) You're invited to a modest
celebration in his honour.

Long life, Dr Pulteney.

And absent friends.

(Black) 'It was not until Dr Pulteney
had reached the age of 92

'that he unwillingly
vacated his position.'

Aargh!

(She screams)

They say that poor Miss Pulteney
is quite overcome.

Now that her poor father is gone,
she has no one at all.

Of course, the poor dear archdeacon
was very old, but to go like that.

Well, I blame the maid, of course.

- The maid?
- Yes, that insolent girl, Jane Lee.

Oh, I never liked her.

Well, it seems a stair rod was missing
and she never mentioned it.

Poor dear archdeacon set his foot
quite on the edge of the step,

and you know
how slippery the oak is.

- You've remarked on it yourself.
- I don't think so, Letitia.

They say the funeral is for Thursday.

Oh, poor Miss Pulteney.

Of course, he had been
in the position for a very long time.

Catherine was saying to me
only the other day

that the affairs of the archdeacon
really are beyond belief.

The dues upon Wingham and Westwood
have been uncollected for nearly 12 years.

And four chancels are
almost past repair.

Dr Pulteney was a dear man,
but as an archdeacon...

Catherine was saying it would take
a man of your zeal and determination.

I hardly think it fitting
at a time like this, Letitia,

to discuss the administrative defects
of the late lamented archdeacon.

Nor can I feel it to be in anything
but the worst possible taste

to speculate
on his possible successor.

(Bells toll)

(♪ Organ music plays)

♪ Oh, Lord, open thou our lips

♪ And my mouth shall show forth
thy praise... ♪

(Silent scream)

♪ Oh, God,
make speed to save us

(Choir) ♪ Oh, Lord

♪ Make haste to help us ♪

Have you discovered anything
at all untoward, Dr Black?

No, nothing tangible, so far.

Mainly devoted to cleansing
the Augean stables...

Given time to reduce
to some semblance of order

the innumerable errors and so forth.

His conflicts with the organist.

Not, for once, successful.

He seems to have been
a very busy man, our Dr Haynes.

Not, perhaps, the most popular figure
in the cathedral close,

but very energetic.

No, it's a disappointing
and blameless life, so far.

For the first three years,
at any rate,

he seems completely occupied
with his administrative details.

And yet,
traces of uneasiness impinge

rather as though his waking hours
had to be crammed with activity

in order to keep the shadows at bay.

"August 30th, 1880."

I wish I were not leaving you
for Brighton, dear.

The air will benefit you, Letitia.

Damp and raw in Barchester
in winter.

Might even put some colour
into your cheeks.

Besides, you'll enjoy cousin
Henrietta's company and she yours.

Will you not be lonely, John,
alone in this great house?

I have my book to finish,
I shall be fully occupied.

I sometimes think
we've been in Barchester too long.

Too long?

Do you remember how we used
to joke about old Dr Pulteney?

Lord, now let us thou
thy servant depart in peace.

Letitia, I do not think...

I'm only trying to say that perhaps
you might retire one day.

Not this year, perhaps,
but sometime soon.

Are you not happy here, Letitia?

It is you I'm thinking of, John.

Have I shown myself to be unhappy
or given others cause to think bitter?

No, John.

Besides, I have my duty.

I could hardly wish the affairs
of the cathedral to fall again

into that state of dereliction
that my predecessor allowed.

I had only thought...

One should avoid
fanciful thoughts, Letitia.

Now, what's this? A letter.

It's not the doctor's hand,
nor his spelling, either.

"I have been expecting to hear
from you these last weeks.

"Bad times. Which way to look
for the rent, we do not know.

"Send £40 or steps will be took
I shall not wish."

What is it, a begging letter?

More than that, I think.

"Seeing as how you was the means of
my losing my place with Dr Pulteney,

"what I could say, if put to it.
Jane Lee."

The maid servant.

There was a portly payment
in the accounts to one JL.

I wondered about that. It started
soon after he became archdeacon.

(Haynes) 'December 6th.

'I do indeed miss Letitia's company.

'The evenings after I have worked
as long as I can are very trying.

'The house is too large for a lonely man
and visitors of any kind are too rare.

'I get an uncomfortable impression
when going to my room

'that there is company
of some kind.

'The fact is,

'I may as well formulate it
to myself,

'that I hear voices.'

(Voices) 'Long life, Dr Pulteney.
Long life.'

(Letitia) 'It seems a stair rod was
missing and she never mentioned it.'

(Echoing woman's laughter)

(Haynes) 'This, I am well aware,
is a common symptom

'of incipient decay of the brain.

'And I believe I should be
less disquieted than I am

'if I had any suspicion
that this was the cause.

'I have none.

'Nor is there anything in my family
history to give colour to such an idea.'

(♪ Organ music)

♪ Lord, now let us thou
thy servant depart

♪ In peace

♪ O glory to thy Lord

♪ Open thine eyes and see... ♪

(Haynes) 'October 11th.

'Candles lit in the choir
for the first time at evening prayers.

'It came as a shock.

'I find that I absolutely shrink
from the dark season.

'Much struck by the character
of the carving on my stall.'

♪...to enlighten the Gentiles...

(Choir voices echoing)

(Cries out)

(Coughs)

Matthew,
do you know anything about these?

They were done before my time, sir.

Nasty little things, I'd say.

No place in the Lord's house,
in my opinion.

I never really noticed them before.
Do you know anything of their history?

Oh, all the carvings here
is very famous, sir.

Amongst those that likes
that sort of thing, of course.

On the south side, there's the angels
and the blessed and that.

And over here... is the damned.

Everlastingly burning, sir.

As is their lot.

There appears to be more conviction
in the figures of the damned.

I dare say you're right, sir.

Course, what a lot of folk
don't notice is these.

Very strange some of these are.

(Haynes) It's one of the seven
deadly sins. Pride, I think.

They must all be along here.

Yes, sir, I'm sure you're right.

Oh, they all have a moral, sir.
If you can understand them, that is.

Of course, I prefer something
a bit more modern myself.

They must be 14th century.

Most of them are, sir.

Of course, yours was done
only about 200 years ago.

There was a fire, you see, sir,
and they had to be restored.

The wood for it came from
the oak trees over to Holywood.

At least, that's what
my father used to tell me.

I had no idea, Dr Haynes,

that you interested yourself
in antiquities of this kind.

I'd imagined that the affairs of the cathedral
occupied all your time.

It was the carvings on my stall
that struck me particularly.

I could not help noting
the uncommon craftsmanship

with which they were executed.

- The devil, death and the cat.
- Yes.

They were done by a local man,
you know, John Austin.

He had a strange reputation.

I believe he rejoiced in the nickname
of "Austin the Twice-Born".

They credited him with second sight.

I suppose there are still parts
of England as yet

imperfectly lightened
by the radiance of Christian thought.

Indeed!

I suspect
the process of enlightenment

is far less advanced
than many imagine.

The trees at the centre of this grove,

which furnished the materials
for the noble structure

in your cathedral, archdeacon,

were used at one time for much
darker rites than those they now fulfil.

In pre-Christian times,
of course, one understands.

Within living memory, my dear sir.

Take, for example, the largest stump

which stands a little apart
from the others.

It is still remembered in my parish
that it was called the Hanging Oak.

The propriety of the title
was confirmed by the fact

that human bones were found
between its roots when it was felled.

There are old people
who still talk of the days

when small images were hung
from its branches

to bring good fortune
in love or commerce.

I hope the grove's destruction
put an end

to the practice
of such... superstitious foolery.

So far as I know,
the old customs have died.

(Bells ringing)

(Haynes) 'January 1st.

'My trouble, I must confess,
is increasing upon me.

'Last night, I returned
from the deanery after midnight.'

(Echoing woman's laughter)

(Rasping voice) 'Let me wish you
a Happy New Year.'

'Let me wish you a Happy New Year.

Let me wish you a Happy New Year.
A Happy New Year...'

(Sighs heavily)

(Haynes) 'January 15th.

'I had occasion to go downstairs
last night for my watch

'which I had inadvertently
left in my study.

'I cannot say that I found it easy
to leave my bedroom.

'I must be firm.'

(Clock chimes)

(Stairs creak)

(Rustling)

(Stairs creak)

(Cat hisses)

(Cat miaows)

(Echoing voice)
'Take care, take care...'

The archdeacon's diary
provides the one outlet

for all his troubles and fears,

although I suspect that
much is concealed even from this.

Look at this now.

"I must be firm, I must be firm,
I must be firm."

Repeated over and over
on subsequent days.

Look how it bites
into the paper here.

Poor man.

Incipient madness.

His loneliness, conscience
and overwork.

His sister Letitia returns in the spring,

and things take on a more
cheerful air for him.

No more dark evenings, I suspect.

"Modest celebration
at the dean's last night.

"My defence of the episcopacy
has been well received.

"The Bishop was heard to say
it displayed in no ordinary degree

"the refinement of the scholar
united with the graces of a Christian."

He's a resilient soul,
our Dr Haynes.

One can't help
admiring him a little.

What a pity that he couldn't wait
for Dr Pulteney

to leave the stage gracefully.

"September 12th.

"Letitia is gone again.
And the house is very empty."

(Haynes) 'A curious thing last night
which I should like to forget.

'Perhaps if I put it down here,
I may see it in its true proportion.

'I worked in the library
from about nine to ten o'clock.'

(Muffled noises)

'The hall and staircase
seemed to be unusually full

'of what I can only call
movement without sound.

'By this I mean there seemed to be
continuous going and coming

'and that whenever
I ceased writing to listen

'or looked out in to the hall,

'the stillness was
absolutely unbroken.'

(♪ Choral singing)

(Haynes) 'October 22nd.

'At evening prayers
I had the same experience

'which I recollect from last year.

'I can assign the moment
at which I became sensible of this.

'The choir were singing
the 109th Psalm...'

♪...and let Satan stand
at his right hand

♪ When sentence is given among ye

♪ Let him be condemned

♪ And let him his prayer
become sin

(Echoing) ♪ Let his days be few

♪ And let another
take his office... ♪

(Voices echo and fade)

♪...and make their bread

♪ Let them seek it also... ♪

'I was going to say that
a change came over the carving,

'but that seems to be attributing
too much importance to what, after all,

'must be due to some
physical affliction in myself.'

(Footsteps echo)

(Footsteps continue)

(Footsteps approaching)

I'm sorry, sir,
I didn't mean to startle you.

I wondered if that was Canon Arnold
you was with, sir.

I wanted to have a word with him.

Canon Arnold?

Yes, sir. I saw both of you
by the tablet a minute ago.

Has he gone in to the chapel?

No one was with me. No one!

I'm very sorry, sir.

I didn't mean to disturb you.

(Haynes) 'November 15th.

'Here again, I must note a matter
I do not understand.

'I am much troubled in sleep.'

(Echoes of woman's laughter)

(Matthew) 'I wondered if that was
Canon Arnold you was with, sir.

- 'I wanted to have a word with him.'
- 'No one was with me. No one!'

(Matthew) 'Nasty little things, I'd say.

'No place in the Lord's house,
in my opinion.'

(Dean) 'Was called the Hanging Oak.

'Human bones were found
between its roots when it was felled.'

(Matthew) 'Everlastingly burning, sir.
As is their lot.'

(Dean) 'Austin the Twice-Born.
They credited him with second sight.'

Oh! Ah!

(Black) "I must be firm."

It would appear that his firmness
is beginning to give out.

Why did he not plead ill health
and join his sister in Brighton?

I suspect that he was a man
who simply would not admit defeat.

He's a confirmed rationalist,
you see.

It's interesting to note
that he never once admits

that the phenomena could be
the product of anything

other than some affliction in himself.

But what else could they have been
than the result of strain?

But these phenomena were witnessed
by people other than himself.

"January 7th.

"I have prevailed
upon my cousin Alan to stay.

"Alan thinks
this is a very noisy house.

"He thinks my cat is an unusually
large and fine specimen

"but very wild."

(Haynes) 'January 18th.

'Alan left yesterday.

'Apart from my servant John,
I am alone.'

Would there be anything else, sir?

John, I should like you to come up
to my room in about an hour's time.

I shall have a letter for the Bishop
which I should like you to deliver

to the Palace early in the morning.

Very well, sir.

(Scratching)

(Male voice) May I come in?

Yes, come in.
I've got the letter.

John? John?

Here I am, sir.

Give me your candle.

- Do we have a cat, John?
- Cat, sir?

A kitchen cat. A large brute.

No, sir.

- Has there never been a cat?
- Not as far as I know of, sir.

- Will that be all, sir?
- Yes. Thank you, John.

(Haynes) 'February 21st.

'I must be firm.

'I must be firm!'

(Cat miaows)

(Miaowing)

(Floorboards creak)

(Cat screeches)

(Cat hisses)

(Stairs creak)

(Cat miaows)

(Echoing laughter)

(Cries out)

"To the distress and horror
of family and friends alike,

"his neck was broken and
his features almost unrecognisable.

"The author or authors
of this mysterious outrage

"are alike bedded in mystery,

"and the most active conjecture has
hitherto failed to suggest a solution

"of the melancholy problem afforded
by this appalling occurrence."

Well, with all due respect,

I feel that your former dean
was quite correct.

I take it that you don't wish me
to publish this in my catalogue?

My dear sir!

Nevertheless, I think
I will take the liberty

of paying a visit
to the cathedral.

- Good night.
- Good night.

(♪ Organ music plays)

(Black) 'The choir stalls were
immediately recognisable

'from the archdeacon's description.

'But of the two carvings,
cat and the hooded figure,

'there was no trace at all.

'The arms of the stall were plain and
appear to have been recently restored.'

'Local enquiries led me to search out
the curator of the town museum,

'whom I was told was more likely
to know the fate of the carvings

'than anyone else.'

Er... Mr Stevens?

- Yes?
- My name is Black. Dr Black.

I've had occasion to do
some work

on the choir stalls
in the cathedral

and was told that you might
be able to help me further.

Of course, Dr Black, I shall be
delighted to give you what help I can.

It was the archdeacon's stall,
in particular.

I read of two extremely unusual figures.

I think I've heard
of the pieces you mean.

I had them from an old man who did
speak to me over some figures.

- Have you seen the figures?
- Oh, no.

I've only heard them described.

But I have something somewhere
appertaining to them.

Let me see, now.
Where, oh, where...?

You see, this old fella dropped it
and it came in two.

Saw it only a week ago.

Oh, it's ridiculous.

Do you know more relics
of Barchester have been lost in here...?

Oh, here we are. I knew I had it.

Erm... it's...
Where was I?

- It broke in two.
- Yes, and this came out.

The old man brought it to me.
He couldn't make head or tail of it.

The only thing I can say
with safety

is that it was written by the man
who did the carving.

The name's known.

Can I see it?

"When I grew in the wood,
I was watered with blood.

"Now in the church I stand.

"Who that touches me with his hand,
if a bloody hand he bear,

"I counts of him, beware.

"Lest he be fetched away,
whether by night or day,

"but chiefly when the wind blows high,
in a night of February.

"This I dreamt 26th February, 1699.
John Austin."

Austin the Twice-born.

Some sort of spell or charm.

Would you say it was
something of that kind?

Yes, I suppose one might.

What happened to the figure
in which it was concealed?

Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you.

The old man told me that
it frightened his children so much

that he burnt it.

(♪ Organ music plays)