Original subtitles

What did the bishop say to you?

I am to become warden of Hiram's Hospital.

- Did he say it in writing? - Yes, I have the letter in my pocket.

We're expected to move in on October the 15th.

I thought it must be officially official,

because Mrs Proudie gave me the measurements of all the principal rooms

and suggested which ones require new curtains.

- Oh, isn't it wonderful, Q? - It is indeed wonderful.

- When does the money start? - Today.

Today?

Oh, Letitia!

You must forgive my arriving so unexpectedly.

Not at all, Dr Gwynne, we're honoured.

And deeply moved that the master of Lazarus

should travel all the way from Plumstead on these quite intolerable roads.

I cannot tell a lie, Your Lordship,

this is not entirely a social call.

I should like to ask a question on business, if you can spare me a moment.

Certainly, master. Pray make no apology.

But do not forget how extremely busy you are.

I shall not delay His Lordship much above a minute.

Does it concern diocesan appointments?

Yes, it does.

The bishop and I have no secrets in these matters.

If your concern is the hospital,

Mr Quiverful has now been confirmed as the new warden.

I was aware that Mr Quiverful's appointment was pending...

And now confirmed.

- My concern is the new dean. - That has not yet been confirmed.

It is very nearly confirmed in this morning's edition of the Jupiter.

- Perhaps you have not read it? - No, I have not.

- One has been rather preoccupied. - What does it say?

It heartily recommends the appointment of Mr Slope!

Slope?

"We hear that Mr Slope's name has been mentioned for this preferment.

"A better man could hardly be selected.

"He is a man of talent, young, active,

"conversant with the affairs of the cathedral

"and, we believe, a truly pious clergyman. "

On the contrary, he is a guttersnipe.

- Really? - In thought, word and deed.

Is that your opinion too, my lord?

Yes.

Yes, in as much as I have not recommended Mr Slope for the deanery,

as I told you at the garden party.

I may not use the same terminology as Mrs Proudie, but...

But the bishop agrees with me.

I welcomed your assurance at the garden party,

I welcome your reassurance today.

There is no question but that...

Oxford would deplore such an appointment.

I cannot imagine what would put such an idea into the head of the Jupiter.

I can. Mr Slope.

He would write to them, telling them what a splendid dean he would make.

And did you enjoy the garden party?

No. It was odious.

Odious? Why? Did it rain?

No, surely not!

The sun shone all day here in Barchester.

The behaviour of... certain people made it odious.

- Was one of them Mr Slope? - How did you know?

I simply asked myself who of all people in Barchester would behave odiously?

Yes, one of them was Mr Slope.

But there was someone else?

Bertie Stanhope?

Oh, I'm sure he wasn't odious.

Silly, perhaps, or embarrassing.

They proposed to me.

Together, or separately?

First Mr Slope, then Mr Stanhope.

How wonderful. Did you accept either?

- Not both? - I will save your guesses, Mary.

I refused them both in very direct terms.

In fact...

I struck Mr Slope.

You mean you hit him?

Yes.

- Excellent. - And as for Mr Stanhope...

Whatever did you do to Bertie Stanhope?

I understand that his sister, Charlotte, who I look upon as a friend,

persuaded him it would be good if we were married,

so my money could pay off his debts.

And I have no doubt that he told you so.

He made the situation fairly clear.

Well, at least he is honest in his deviousness.

That may be so. All I know is I never want to see any of the Stanhope family again.

That sounds very dull.

I'd rather be dull than... corrupted.

Really?

I've been dull for many years now and I sometimes think in my quieter moments

that a little mild corruption...

Tell me about hitting Mr Slope.

Was it with the flat of your hand or a clenched fist?

On the cheek? The eye? The ear?

I slapped him on the left ear.

Bertie? Sweet innocent child...

Am I really a sweet innocent child?

- Yes, of course you are. - Ah.

Would you ask one of the servants to deliver these for me?

Certo.

To Mrs Bold? Mr Arabin and Mr Slope?

Do you always examine other people's correspondence?

Of course. I sometimes steam them open, too.

Why are you writing to these people?

- They are my friends. - And you wish to interfere in their lives?

Why else do I have friends?

I wish to give them the benefit of my sad experience of the world.

Aha. I'm not sure that Mrs Bold will welcome a letter from this house.

Because you proposed to her and she turned you down?

She knows it was more in the nature of a business transaction we had in mind,

rather than love everlasting.

Of course, she's a very sensible woman.

- She deserves my guidance. - Hm.

- Father wants to see you. - Oh, dear.

Is it the voice of impending doom?

I really think it might be, Bertie.

I see.

Excellent.

Bong... bong...

bong... bong...

bong... bong... bong... bong...

Bong.

Charlotte tells me that Mrs Bold has turned you down.

Alas, yes. I charmed with all the eloquence of my silver tongue...

I am delighted.

Allied to the desperation of a near-bankrupt, yet she resisted me.

You are delighted?

Yes, sir. Delighted that a woman as worthy as Mrs Bold

should escape sacrifice to so heartless a reprobate.

- Do you refer to me, sir? - Of course I refer to you, sir.

Huh! Marriage indeed.

What woman of any money or credit or any respect in the world to lose

would even consider marriage to a man like you?

It is true, I am having difficulty in finding one.

Do stop prattling on and sit down.

Now, sir, talking very quietly and sensibly...

like a grown-up human being!

Can you give me some idea as to your present intentions?

- That is rather difficult. - Why?

I have no intentions.

I'll do anything you care to suggest, sir.

I have no suggestions to make.

- Well, then... - I have but one order to give.

An order? I don't recall your ever giving me an order before, sir.

I might find that rather exciting. What is the order?

You will leave my house.

Now? Tonight?

It need not be as immediate as all that.

Tomorrow, perhaps.

Yes, sir! Tomorrow you shall leave this house.

Very well. Will the 4:30pm train be soon enough?

There are earlier trains but the 4:30 is an express...

You may go how and when and where you please. Just go!

You have disgraced me, sir.

You have disgraced yourself and me and your sisters.

I'm glad at least I have not disgraced my mother.

No, no, it's not funny.

I shall go back to my studio in Italy and starve to death.

- Oh. - It is your own fault.

I know. But it's little consolation to the dying man to know it's his own fault.

All you had to do was persuade Mrs Bold

of the depth and sincerity of your passion.

- There is none. - None what?

- His passion has no depths or sincerity. - I must confess, that is a problem.

I must also confess my other mistake.

Tell us, we love confessions.

Well, when I proposed to Mrs Bold, I did briefly refer to the fact

- that it was your idea. - Oh!

That might have been an error of judgment.

- A little unwise, Bertie. - I see that now.

You are quite hopeless.

I cannot help but tell the truth.

If I'm proposing to marry a widow for her money, I tend to say so.

There is something else I remember now.

When Mrs Bold refused me,

she said she almost gave me the same reply as she gave to Mr Slope.

Do either of you happen to know what that means?

Yes.

Mr Slope also proposed to Mrs Bold at the garden party and she hit him.

- Really? - Isn't it wonderful?

- Splendid. - In strictest confidence, of course.

Had I known she was a woman of such spirit,

I might have tried harder with my solemn promises of love everlasting.

You should take it as a compliment that she didn't strike you.

I shall indeed. A rare and precious tribute

to my grace and kindness and generosity of spirit.

And I have completed yet another masterpiece.

- What have you drawn? - I call it...

"The Brave Departure In Temporary Disgrace

"Of Ethelbert Stanhope From The Town Of Barchester,

"Whence He Shall One Day In Triumph Return. "

It's a much too long a title.

- Yes, I suppose so. - What about...

"Goodbye, Bertie"?

Very well.

"Goodbye, Bertie"...

...it shall be. - Oh.

That's beautiful.

It's a new anthem.

To celebrate something special?

Yes.

Mary obviously hopes you will tell her what the music is going to celebrate.

God. Everything I write celebrates God,

I know of no other compelling reason to make music.

Unless you were expecting a tender requiem

for young Bertie Stanhope.

Whatever do you mean?

His father has sent him packing back to Italy

in what we used to call...

...disgrace.

What a shame. We will miss him.

A young man with great ability to entertain his companion.

And without malice.

Yes. Entirely without malice.

We shall miss him.

If Bertie Stanhope has gone,

that means you can accept the Signora's invitation.

Invitation?

I beg your pardon, is it none of my business?

I received a letter from Madeline Neroni, inviting me to pay her a visit.

I see.

No, I don't see.

Am I to infer that you would have been unwilling

to accept the invitation had young Stanhope been present?

- Possibly. - Possibly...

No, I don't understand.

Do you want to explain, or would it be, er...

more convenient for both of us if I remained in ignorance?

The matter is complicated, trivial and... tedious.

Good.

Leave me in my ignorance.

- Miss Bold. - Mr Harding.

The other reason that I make music

is to celebrate the certainty of the Lord,

since there is no other way I can understand

the contradictions and confusions...

that surround me.

Do I really confuse you, Father?

Yes, my dear.

Tenderly and lovingly, you confuse me.

It's very kind of you to accept my invitation, Mrs Bold.

Your letter was very persuasive.

The behaviour of various members of my family has not been of a standard

expected from citizens of Barchester.

It is of no consequence.

Pray, would you move your chair a little bit closer,

so that I can see you better?

Er, a little more.

Good.

We cannot have a proper conversation if we cannot see each other's eyes.

Now, Mrs Bold, I'm going to tell you something

which you may perhaps think indelicate.

But I know that I'm right in doing so.

I believe you know Mr Arabin.

Yes.

I am acquainted with him.

That is, slightly.

He is an intimate friend of Dr Grantly.

Dr Grantly is my brother-in-law, he married my sister Susan.

Well, if you know Mr Arabin, I'm sure you must like him.

I know him and like him very much.

Everybody who knows him must like him.

You say nothing, Mrs Bold.

Do you agree with me?

Or do you disagree?

You must do me the courtesy of answering me,

while I am doing for you all that one woman can do to serve another.

Forgive me, Signora, but I do not find it easy

to discuss such intimate matters.

But you agree with me that to know Mr Arabin is to like him?

- Yes, I agree. - You see, it is easy

to discuss these "intimate matters".

But your questions are so very...

- singular. - Well, then...

I will ask one more singular still.

Do you love Mr Arabin?

Do you love him with all your heart and soul?

For I can tell you that he loves you,

adores you, worships you,

thinks of you and nothing else.

I can tell you that he is thinking of you now,

as he attempts to write next Sunday's sermon.

What would I not give to be loved by such a man in such a way.

What I tell you is God's own truth.

It is for you to use it

as may be best for your own happiness.

He knows nothing of this.

He's as simple as a child in these matters.

He's told me his secret in a thousand ways.

He doesn't dream that he's told it.

You know it now, and I advise you to use it.

And remember, he's not like other men.

You mustn't expect him to come with vows and oaths and pretty presents,

to kneel at your feet and kiss your shoestrings.

If you want that, there are plenty to do it.

And goodness knows how tedious it can become.

But your Mr Arabin is not of that mould.

With him, yea will stand for yea

and nay for nay.

The woman who shall reject him once

will have rejected him for all time.

Remember that, Mrs Bold.

And now I'll not keep you.

I think I can guess what use you will make of what I've said to you.

Heigh-ho, we shall all be far away...

when you become a happy wife

in that good man's house.

But I shall expect you to write to me.

Just one line.

Will you do that, Mrs Bold?

Yes.

Was it a successful interview, Madeline?

- Yes. - Good.

And this afternoon...

I'm sure you all know each other.

Indeed, yes.

We met at your exquisite country house, Mr Thorne.

A most excellent garden party, Mr Thorne.

No, Mr Slope. You must sit there, Mr Thorne,

because surprise visitors are always the most welcome.

Mr Arabin.

This is really very kind, Mr Thorne.

I knew that you promised to visit me but I didn't expect it.

I thought you country gentlemen never kept your pledges.

This country gentleman always keeps his pledges.

Country gentlemen sometimes deceive themselves, do they not, Mr Thorne?

Perhaps.

But I never deceive a lady.

Especially when the gratification of my wishes

is so strong an inducement to keep me true, as it now is.

You see, Mr Slope, Mr Thorne is the master

of a honeyed phrase that delights a lady.

I fancy, with respect, that you've had more experience

than a young clergyman like myself.

But never a greater incentive.

Mr Thorne, I do believe you're making Mr Slope quite jealous.

- Not at all, Signora. - I was only teasing you.

Indeed, I hear you are triumphing on all sides.

- How so? - I hear you carry the day,

in both love and war.

- You hear more than I do. - You're a very lucky man.

Mr Arabin, don't you think that Mr Slope is a very lucky man?

No more so than he deserves, I'm sure.

Only think, Mr Thorne, he's to be the new dean of Barchester.

Indeed, we all know nothing about that.

We know nothing but the newspapers know everything.

- I read nothing in them but your name. - Idle speculation.

He is to be the new dean, there can be no doubt.

Should I say congratulations?

That would be ridiculous and premature.

But we are delighted for you, Mr Slope.

How wise of the Church to select one so young and ambitious.

There are too many old men in the Church.

And how perceptive to pass over the heads of elderly gentlemen

like Mr Harding, Father, Dr Grantly...

I'm sure Dr Grantly would not accept it, even if the offer were made.

Passing over all our heads,

for indeed, I consider myself one of the chapter.

If I am ever dean,

and the possibility lies many years ahead,

if it exists at all, but if I am ever dean,

I would glory in such a canoness.

You must do better than that, Mr Slope.

I can never be a canoness, as well you know.

It is improper of you to suggest such a thing.

- I merely... - There is another canoness

for you to glory in. Lady and gentlemen,

Mr Slope is not only to have the deanery, but a wife to put in it.

- Really... - A wife with a large fortune, too.

It never rains but it pours, does it?

No, never.

When is it to be?

When is what to be?

We all know the affair of the deanery will be settled in a week or so.

The new hat, no doubt, has already been ordered.

But when will the marriage come off?

Tell us, when is the widow to be made Mrs Dean?

Oh, come, come, don't be bashful.

We all know that you proposed to the lady at Mr Thorne's garden party.

Tell us with what words she accepted you.

Was it with a simple yes, or with two no-nos

which we all know make an affirmative?

Perhaps it was silent?

The silence of consent.

I really cannot say.

You cannot say?

What, Mr Slope, no answer?

It cannot be that the lady foolishly refused you. We can't believe that.

Perhaps the widow prefers to wait...

- for a bishop. - Yes, I see how it is.

Widows are cautious.

You should have waited until the hat was on your head,

and then handed her the key of the deanery.

Perhaps you'll favour me by changing the subject.

Certainly, but one word first.

If the lady was foolish enough to refuse you,

go to her again wearing your dean's hat.

And I'll wager my shawl for your shovel she'll not refuse you then.

You're speaking of the lady in an unjustifiable manner.

Very well, I will not speak of the lady.

- My thanks, Signora. - I will sing of the lady.

It's good to be merry and wise, Mr Slope

It's good to be honest and true

It's good to be off with the old love, Mr Slope

Before you are on with the new

Signora!

Mr Slope!

I find your behaviour abominable.

I wish you all a good afternoon.

Did I upset him?

What do you think, Mr Arabin?

I think perhaps you did, a little.

Good. Ambition is so tedious.

The motto of the Stanhope family is "no ambition".

Do you have any ambitions, Mr Arabin?

I must confess, I have one or two, but they are modest

and private.

Indeed, you're a very modest and private man.

But it will be necessary to share your secret ambition

with at least one other person.

To that degree, you must follow Mr Slope's example,

but with more grace and tact.

Forgive me, Mr Thorne, I've been neglecting you.

One is so involved organising other people's lives...

So I have observed.

Warden! Is there anything the matter?

No, nothing is the matter, erm...

- I have something to tell you. - Oh.

- Don't go, Susan, I want you to hear this. - Come here, my dear.

- Is it about the deanery? - Yes.

They have given it to Slope.

No. They have offered it to me.

- Good heavens. - Dear... dear!

I'd give L20 to see Slope's face when he hears this!

- I must admit that I am very gratified... - I should think you are!

But all the same, I'm afraid I can't accept it.

What?

I can't accept it.

What... You're... You can't accept one of the most desirable positions

your profession has to offer, with a sixfold increase in your income?

I... I do not feel myself fit for any new duties.

What new duties are there?

There are none, that's the joy of the appointment.

Nothing could be easier, Papa.

- Did you see the Jupiter the other day? - Jupiter!

It said, "Let the church appoint a young man. " That's what it said.

Like the Jupiter you wish Slope to be appointed?

No! But I see the virtue in favouring the young...

You see the other person's point of view at all times. You should know better.

You'll never understand my feeling!

Because...

we...

we have been cast

in different moulds.

I- I wish...

I wish I had your spirit

and your love of combat...

but I have not.

Every day that is added to my life

increases my wish

for peace and rest.

My dear old friend, where on earth can a man

find peace and rest if not in a deanery?

I feel myself too old

for any new place.

Dear Papa, men ten years older than you

are appointed to new situations every day.

My dear, I lack the force of character which would enable me

to fight against the spirit of the times.

The call on all sides is for young men, young ideas, radical visions,

and in many ways I agree with that.

I... I can see...

everything that is wrong...

with my appointment...

with total clarity.

I can anticipate article after article

in the Jupiter criticising me

for extreme old age and incompetence

and I could not bear with such a thing.

I'm sure...

it would cost me my reason.

Nonsense!

No, no, Archdeacon, it isn't nonsense,

I know my own weaknesses

and... yes, and I know my own strengths, too.

And, erm...

Well...

To tell you the truth I haven't the faintest idea what a dean has to do.

That has got nothing to do with it.

- Please... - You must understand...

Don't! Don't be angry with me, Theophilus.

- Dear Papa... - Please don't.

Don't let us argue about it, Susan.

I am not prepared

to face the slings and arrows...

of the...

outrageous Jupiter.

When I was a young man, yes, but now...

No, peace and rest, that's all.

- I should be delighted. - Oh, what a relief.

Some of my brother's ideas do give me a great deal of trouble.

I have considered having some ideas of my own.

But I expect it's a little too late to start now.

On the contrary, Miss Thorne, it is never too late.

Oh! Oh, I shall enjoy

having you to stay at Ullathorne.

And Wilfred is quite right,

some of our friends are very boring.

Sometimes Wilfred is very boring...

Oh, but I don't think you heard me say that.

I have lived most of my life among clergymen.

I am well accustomed to not hearing things I should not hear.

It's going to be such fun.

I make you a promise, Miss Thorne.

We shall sit on your beautiful terrace at Ullathorne,

look at the trees and the sky,

listen to the birds,

and between us, we shall have ideas.

- Mrs Bold. - Yes?

I have another lively, interesting and new visitor for you to meet.

Good afternoon, Mrs Bold.

Good afternoon, Mr Arabin.

Well, I must have a word with cook.

Do you like Ullathorne, Mrs Bold?

Yes, indeed, very much.

There is something about old-fashioned mansions built like this,

and old-fashioned gardens that is especially delightful.

Oh, I like everything old fashioned.

Old-fashioned things are so much more...

- honest. - I wonder.

I wonder about things old-fashioned.

Some people think we are progressing quickly towards perfection,

while others imagine that virtue is disappearing from the earth.

And you, Mr Arabin? What do you think?

On important subjects I have no fixed opinion.

I think and think, and go on thinking.

Yet my thoughts are forever running in different directions.

I'm able to believe in totally opposed points of view

with equal conviction.

I think, Mr Arabin, you pretend to be confused.

I think you have very strong opinions,

but are reluctant to admit them.

Perhaps.

I believe there's a very fine formal garden here at Ullathorne.

- Yes, there is. - Have you seen it?

This way.

Have you forgiven me, Mrs Bold?

Forgiven you? What is there to forgive?

When we were at Plumstead,

I asked you a highly impertinent question on a personal matter.

I had no right to do so.

As I recall, you asked me

whether I loved Mr Slope.

You do remember.

I remember everything you have ever said to me, Mr Arabin.

You asked me a question and I refused to answer you.

You were quite right to refuse, Mrs Bold.

I will answer you now.

I do not love Mr Slope.

I never have, and I never will.

And you know perfectly well why that is so.

Do I?

And you were forgiven long ago.

Mrs Bold.

Mr Arabin.

Eleanor.

How sad you are.

No, not sad.

I must visit the signora and tell her of the success of her idea.

Her idea? I thought it was your idea, Wilfred.

Hah! Who knows where ideas come from?

I know where they go to.

They're both leaving, of course.

- Leaving? - Yes.

Mrs Bold is dashing back to Barchester to give her father the glad tidings,

and Mr Arabin is returning to his parish.

- Excellent. - What?

I hate visitors, even when they're nice.

I've been thinking, my dear.

Oh, no.

Oh, I've so much to tell you!

My dear, I have so much to tell you, my dear...

they have offered me the deanery.

- Oh! - I wanted to tell you at once

but then I discovered you'd gone to Ullathorne.

That makes everything quite perfect.

But, but, my dear, I think it best to refuse it.

Why do you always refuse things?

I've been explaining that to the archdeacon for the past two days

and to tell you the truth, I don't know myself why I'm refusing it, but I shall.

- You'd be so happy there, the garden... - Shh, shh, hush, my dear.

I shall refuse it.

Now tell me...

tell me your news.

I'm going, that is providing you will give your consent...

You're going to be married.

- Yes. - Tell me who it is.

- Promise you will love him, for my sake. - My dear... I must love anyone

whom you love.

- Mr Arabin. - Mr... Arabin?

That's impossible.

Don't say anything against him if you love me. Don't.

But my child, my daughter, he is... he is good and noble and high-minded.

He is everything that...

that a woman can love and a man admire.

He shall be my son, he shall be my own son.

He shall be my only son.

He shall be as close to my heart as you are.

He shall be...

He shall be...

the dean

of Barchester.

Good heavens!

Eleanor has much more sense

than we gave her credit for.

Good heavens!

Oh... oh!

They must be married here at Plumstead.

They must not get married at Barchester.

But it's impossible. Eleanor and Mr Arabin?

It did take me by surprise but that doesn't make it impossible.

- Good heavens! - And it has prompted me

towards making a suggestion

- which I should like your views on... - Hmm?

...and if possible, your support.

What sort of suggestion?

- Susan, my dear... - Oh, yes, of course!

My suggestion...

my suggestion is... Mr Arabin

as dean of Barchester.

Mind you...

E- Enter!

- You wish to see me, my lord? - Yes, Mr Slope, please.

Pray be seated.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Er, Mr Slope, it has become necessary for me

to speak to you on a matter that has been, er...

pressing itself on my attention.

Is this a matter connected with myself?

It is so, certainly.

It certainly is connected with yourself.

If I may, I'd prefer no discussion to take place in the presence of a third person.

Don't alarm yourself, no discussion is necessary.

The bishop merely intends to express his own wishes.

Yes, I-I-I merely intend to express my own wishes

and no discussion will be necessary.

We cannot be sure of that.

However, I cannot force Mrs Proudie to leave the room

nor can I refuse to remain here, if it is Your Lordship's wish that I remain.

It is His Lordship's wish that I stay

and it is simple necessity that you stay.

My lord.

Mr Slope, it grieves me to find fault with a clergyman,

especially a clergyman in your position.

- What have I done amiss? - Do you dare to ask the bishop that?

Does not your conscience...

Mrs Proudie, I will have no words with you.

Ah, sir, but you will have words.

Just as you have had words with that Signora Neroni.

You've disgraced yourself, consorting publicly with such a married woman,

a woman quite unfit for a clergyman's society.

She's a clergyman's daughter and we were introduced in your drawing room.

Shamefully you behaved then and shamefully you have behaved since.

I should have insisted on your dismissal at that time.

I wasn't aware that you have the power of dismissal.

I am not to have the privilege of saying who shall and who shall not

frequent my own drawing room?

I am not to save my children, my servants

from having their morals corrupted by improper conduct?

I am not to save my own daughters from impurity and contamination!

You will see, Mr Slope.

Oh, yes, you will see

whether I have the power or not.

My lord, may I ask to hear from your own lips

any decision you have come to on this matter?

Certainly, Mr Slope, that is a perfectly reasonable request.

My, er... m-my... er...

my decision is that you had better seek some other preferment.

I do not think that you are well suited to your present situation.

And what has been my fault?

Well y-you hear what Mrs Proudie says.

Signora Neroni...

Abominable and disgraceful.

Fie, Mr Slope, fie.

I shall publish the history of this transaction in the Jupiter,

if only to vindicate myself.

Be careful of what you say and do.

Clergymen have been unfrocked for less than what you have been guilty of.

If this goes on, I shall be obliged to indict this woman for defamation of character.

I think that you had better now retire.

It will be better that you leave the palace as soon as possible.

I will enclose a cheque for any balance due to you.

If you wish to remain in the neighbourhood,

and pledge yourself never again to see that woman,

the bishop will mention your name to Mr Quiverful,

who now requires a curate at Puddingdale.

There is a stipend of L50 a year.

Puddingdale?

May God forgive you, madam, for the manner in which you have treated me.

As to the bishop,

I pity him.

May you both live...

forever.

Round the side.

- Quiverful! - Mr Harding.

Mrs Quiverful, here...

I want to wish you

as much happiness as I enjoyed during all my years here in the hospital.

You're very kind.

Is it true you're going to the deanery?

It's a half-truth, Mrs Quiverful.

I am going to the deanery but not as dean.

Mr Arabin is to be the new dean.

I shall serve as his assistant,

render what advice and assistance I may in diocesan matters.

Mr Harding!

Bunce...

Bunce!

Ha! Bunce, my dear old friend.

So, you got your new warden,

at last.

It won't be the same, Mr Harding.

Nothing is ever the same, Bunce.

But Mr Quiverful is a good man.

He won't be the same, sir.

Not if the bishop sent us an angel right out of heaven, it wouldn't be the same.

How dare you talk like that, Bunce? You should be ashamed of yourself.

I'm a very old man now. I can talk as I please.

I'm an old man, too.

You're a true Christian. That's what you be.

Is that what I be...

...Bunce?

Is that what I be?

Are you going to use Mrs Proudie's horses for the wedding?

My friends...

my wife has given orders that there should be no speeches.

I am responding in the traditional manner by making a speech.

- Not too long! - No, not too long.

But we have so much to celebrate. A new dean.

And not only that, but a new dean who is about to acquire a new wife.

And if she does her duty by you

as her sister has done by me,

you'll be a happy man, I can tell you that.

Well said, Archdeacon.

It's true, it's true. But of course I know you'll all forgive me

if my main topic is my father-in-law,

who during recent months

has given us as much cause for anxiety

as any ten other people I can think of.

Yes, that's quite true. 20, I would say.

I hope you'll forgive the anxieties

when you hear my new anthem.

On the contrary, no man has ever given less cause for forgiveness

than Septimus Harding.

He is not a hero,

not a man who is widely talked about,

not a man who should be toasted at public dinners,

not a man who should be spoken of

with conventional absurdity

as the perfect divine.

He's simply a good man,

without guile,

believing humbly in the religion

he has striven to teach

and guided by the precepts he has striven to learn.

My friends,

I give you...

our Mr Harding.

Our Mr Harding.

Papa.

O, be joyful in the Lord

All ye lands

Serve the Lord with gladness

And come before His presence with a song

Be sure that the Lord, He is God

It is He that hath made us

And not we ourselves

We are His people

And the sheep of his pasture

O, go your way into His gates with thanksgiving

And into His courts with praise

Be thankful unto Him

And speak good of His name

For the Lord is gracious

His mercy is everlasting

And His truth endureth

From generation

To generation