DOI Heft:
July 24, 1880
DOI Seite / Zitierlink:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.17764#0035
low 24, 1880.] PUNCH, OK THE LONDON CHARIVARI. 27
“JUST OUT!”-(.AT ALL THE LIBRARIES.)
First Young Lady. “ How did you like Convict Life, dear?”
Second Young Lady. “Pretty well. 'We’ve just begun Ten Years' Penal Servitude. Some of us like it, but-”
Old Lady (mentally). “ Good gracious ! What dreadful Creatures ! So young, too !” \_LooTcs for the communicating cord !
THE BEADLE!
OR,
THE LATEST CHRONICLE OF SAIALL-BEERJESTER.
BY
ANTHONY DOLLOP.
Author of " The Chronicles of Barsellsliire,” ‘1 Beer jester Brewers'’
'''‘The Half-way House at Aleinton," “ Thorley Farm for
Cattle," “ Family Parsonage," “ The Prying Minister,"
“ Pearls Before Swine; or, Who Used His Diamonds f"
"Bub the Hair," “ The Way We Dye Now," " Fishy Fin,"
" Fishy as Wildux," “ Dr. Thorne and David James," "Star
and Garter, Richmond," "Rachel Hooray!" " The Jellies of
Jelly," “ The Bertrams and Roberts," “Lady Pye-Anna,"
" Tails of All Creatures," " ' Arry ' Otspur," " Mary Grea-
sily," “ Vicar of Pullbaker," " McDermott of Balladsingerun,"
“ Can't You Forget Her?" "He Knew He Could Write,"
Src
CHAPTER VIII.
CORAM EPISCOPO.
Dr. Dowdie, Bishop of Small-Beerjester, was a quiet, easy-going;,
silent-voting prelate, tenacious of such authority as he possessed,
and patiently ambitious of attaining to Archiepiscopal splendour;
tolerant of dissent, yet ever ready to kill the fatted calf on the con-
version of a prodigal or a pretty-gal, and still more ready, whenever
the weal of the Church Established might he intrusted to his hands,
to cut a good fat slice out of it for himself.
In person Dr. Dowdie is a decidedly good-looking man; and
though somewhat below the middle height, he is considered as in
himself equal to an entire episcopate of sixty-two bishops, being
exactly five feet two inches high, and every inch a bishop. He is
not, therefore a bishop, in partibus, but in toto. He is somewhat
deficient in nose, as this episcopal organ is so frequently submitted
to the process of being snapped off, I regret to say, by his better half,
who in reality rules the roast in the Palace—Dr. Dowdie himself
being the roast—and directs the diocese from her husband’s sanctum :
while he himself, seated on his throne in Small-Beerjester Cathedral,
has no more real power in his hands than have the recumbent stone
effigies of his predecessors on their Gothic tombs.
Dr. Dowdie is remarkable neither for great talent nor for any
brilliant social qualities, and so his swift but steady rise in his pro-
fession, and subsequently his preferment from one See to another, in
rapidly improving succession, was an enigma to the world outside;
and he himself was as unintelligible as an inscription on a Moabite
stone, except to Mrs. Dowdie, who had so often translated him into
various diocesan dialects, from Land’s End to Northumberland,
that by the time of his latest instalment on account of his Small-
Beerjester Bishopric, he might well have been intoxicated with his
success, having been in England half-sees over within the first three
years of his Prelacy. <
As the great Earl of Warwick had earned the title of King-maker,
so Mrs. Dowdie had thoroughly deserved the honourable sobriquet
of “Eminent Translator,” which had been conferred on her by all
the ecclesiastics, their wives and families in all the dioceses. Once
having completed the rough translation, this worthy woman set her-
self to carefully adapting the bishop to the new stage where he had
to appear. The Bishop was entirely in her hands ; he never moved,
proprio motu, but only when she pushed him forward; whatever
she made him take, he took, including a black draught, or white one,
if either were in the game on the board; and when not in action he
was only too glad to remain upright, and always on the square.
Yet, perhaps, he inwardly groaned under the domestic tyranny
which, to all outward appearance, he seemed to accept with philoso-
phic contentment. But for her promptings his ambition might have
taken quite another turn, on the military parade, or in Westminster
Hall, and, indeed, he would never have accepted his first Mitre, had
not his spouse pointed out to him that he " might err if he refused it.”
Perhaps, Ladies, he was silently sighing for an opportunity to
break away from these bonds, which gave him so little interest, to
“JUST OUT!”-(.AT ALL THE LIBRARIES.)
First Young Lady. “ How did you like Convict Life, dear?”
Second Young Lady. “Pretty well. 'We’ve just begun Ten Years' Penal Servitude. Some of us like it, but-”
Old Lady (mentally). “ Good gracious ! What dreadful Creatures ! So young, too !” \_LooTcs for the communicating cord !
THE BEADLE!
OR,
THE LATEST CHRONICLE OF SAIALL-BEERJESTER.
BY
ANTHONY DOLLOP.
Author of " The Chronicles of Barsellsliire,” ‘1 Beer jester Brewers'’
'''‘The Half-way House at Aleinton," “ Thorley Farm for
Cattle," “ Family Parsonage," “ The Prying Minister,"
“ Pearls Before Swine; or, Who Used His Diamonds f"
"Bub the Hair," “ The Way We Dye Now," " Fishy Fin,"
" Fishy as Wildux," “ Dr. Thorne and David James," "Star
and Garter, Richmond," "Rachel Hooray!" " The Jellies of
Jelly," “ The Bertrams and Roberts," “Lady Pye-Anna,"
" Tails of All Creatures," " ' Arry ' Otspur," " Mary Grea-
sily," “ Vicar of Pullbaker," " McDermott of Balladsingerun,"
“ Can't You Forget Her?" "He Knew He Could Write,"
Src
CHAPTER VIII.
CORAM EPISCOPO.
Dr. Dowdie, Bishop of Small-Beerjester, was a quiet, easy-going;,
silent-voting prelate, tenacious of such authority as he possessed,
and patiently ambitious of attaining to Archiepiscopal splendour;
tolerant of dissent, yet ever ready to kill the fatted calf on the con-
version of a prodigal or a pretty-gal, and still more ready, whenever
the weal of the Church Established might he intrusted to his hands,
to cut a good fat slice out of it for himself.
In person Dr. Dowdie is a decidedly good-looking man; and
though somewhat below the middle height, he is considered as in
himself equal to an entire episcopate of sixty-two bishops, being
exactly five feet two inches high, and every inch a bishop. He is
not, therefore a bishop, in partibus, but in toto. He is somewhat
deficient in nose, as this episcopal organ is so frequently submitted
to the process of being snapped off, I regret to say, by his better half,
who in reality rules the roast in the Palace—Dr. Dowdie himself
being the roast—and directs the diocese from her husband’s sanctum :
while he himself, seated on his throne in Small-Beerjester Cathedral,
has no more real power in his hands than have the recumbent stone
effigies of his predecessors on their Gothic tombs.
Dr. Dowdie is remarkable neither for great talent nor for any
brilliant social qualities, and so his swift but steady rise in his pro-
fession, and subsequently his preferment from one See to another, in
rapidly improving succession, was an enigma to the world outside;
and he himself was as unintelligible as an inscription on a Moabite
stone, except to Mrs. Dowdie, who had so often translated him into
various diocesan dialects, from Land’s End to Northumberland,
that by the time of his latest instalment on account of his Small-
Beerjester Bishopric, he might well have been intoxicated with his
success, having been in England half-sees over within the first three
years of his Prelacy. <
As the great Earl of Warwick had earned the title of King-maker,
so Mrs. Dowdie had thoroughly deserved the honourable sobriquet
of “Eminent Translator,” which had been conferred on her by all
the ecclesiastics, their wives and families in all the dioceses. Once
having completed the rough translation, this worthy woman set her-
self to carefully adapting the bishop to the new stage where he had
to appear. The Bishop was entirely in her hands ; he never moved,
proprio motu, but only when she pushed him forward; whatever
she made him take, he took, including a black draught, or white one,
if either were in the game on the board; and when not in action he
was only too glad to remain upright, and always on the square.
Yet, perhaps, he inwardly groaned under the domestic tyranny
which, to all outward appearance, he seemed to accept with philoso-
phic contentment. But for her promptings his ambition might have
taken quite another turn, on the military parade, or in Westminster
Hall, and, indeed, he would never have accepted his first Mitre, had
not his spouse pointed out to him that he " might err if he refused it.”
Perhaps, Ladies, he was silently sighing for an opportunity to
break away from these bonds, which gave him so little interest, to