“And I hope not a pedant, not a dogmatist, for that would be almost as bad. Before we domesticate another chaplain, I wish to know all his qualities, and to have a full and true description of him.”
“Shall I then give you a full and true description of him in the words of Chaucer?”
“In any words you please. But Chaucer’s chaplain must be a little old-fashioned by this time, I should think.”
“Pardon me. Some people, as well as some things, never grow old-fashioned. I should not be ashamed to produce Chaucer’s parish priest at this day to the best company in England—I am not ashamed to produce him to your ladyship; and if I can remember twenty lines in his favour, I hope you will give me credit for being a sincere friend to the worthy part of the clergy. Observe, you must take them as I can patch them together; I will not promise that I can recollect twenty lines de suite, and without missing a word; that is what I would not swear to do for His Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury.”
“His Grace will probably excuse you from swearing; at least I will,” said Lady Delacour, “on the present occasion: so now for your twenty lines in whatever order you please.”
Doctor X——, with sundry intervals of recollection, which may be spared the reader, repeated the following lines:
“Yet has his aspect nothing of severe,
But such a face as promised him sincere.
Nothing reserved or sullen was to see,
But sweet regards, and pleasing sanctity,
Mild was his accent, and his action free.
With eloquence innate his tongue was arm’d,
Though harsh the precept, yet the preacher charm’d;
For, letting down the golden chain from high,
He drew his audience upwards to the sky.
He taught the Gospel rather than the law,
And forced himself to drive, but loved to draw.
The tithes his parish freely paid, he took;
But never sued, or curs’d with bell and book.
Wide was his parish, not contracted close
In streets—but here and there a straggling house.
Yet still he was at hand, without request,
To serve the sick, and succour the distressed.
The proud he tamed, the penitent he cheer’d,
Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear’d.
His preaching much, but more his practice wrought,
A living sermon of the truths he taught.”
Lady Delacour wished that she could find a chaplain, who in any degree resembled this charming parish priest, and Dr. X——promised that he would the next day introduce to her his friend Mr. Moreton.
“Mr. Moreton!” said Belinda, “the gentleman of whom Mr. Percival spoke, Mrs. Freke’s Mr. Moreton?”
“Yes,” said Dr. X——, “the clergyman whom Mrs. Freke hanged in effigy, and to whom Clarence Hervey has given a small living.”