_ CHAPTER XXIII. THE CHAPLAIN
In some minds, emotions of joy are always connected with feelings of benevolence and generosity. Lady Delacour's heart expanded with the sensations of friendship and gratitude, now that she was relieved from those fears by which she had so long been oppressed.
"My dear daughter," said she to Helena, "have you at this instant any wish that I can gratify?--Ask any thing you please, the fairy Goodwill shall contrive to get it for you in a trice. You have thought of a wish at this moment, I know, by your eyes, by your blush. Nay, do not hesitate. Do you doubt me because I do not appear before you in the shape of a little ugly woman, like Cinderella's godmother? or do you despise me because you do not see a wand waving in my hand?--'Ah, little skilled of fairy lore!' know that I am in possession of a talisman that can command more than ever fairy granted. Behold my talisman," continued she, drawing out her purse, and showing the gold through the net-work. "Speak boldly, then," cried she to Helena, "and be obeyed."
"Ah, mamma," said Helena, "I was not thinking of what fairies or gold can give; but you can grant my wish, and if you will let me, I will whisper it to you."
Lady Delacour stooped to hear her daughter's whisper.
"Your wish is granted, my own grateful, charming girl," said her mother.
Helena's wish was, that her mother could be reconciled to her good aunt, Margaret Delacour.
Her ladyship sat down instantly, and wrote to Mrs. Delacour. Helena was the bearer of this letter, and Lady Delacour promised to wait upon this excellent old lady as soon as she should return to town.
In the meantime her ladyship's health rapidly improved under the skilful care of Dr. X----: it had been terribly injured by the ignorance and villany of the wretch to whom she had so long and so rashly trusted. The nostrums which he persuaded her to take, and the immoderate use of opium to which she accustomed herself, would have ruined her constitution, had it not been uncommonly strong. Dr. X---- recommended it to her ladyship to abstain gradually from opium, and this advice she had the resolution to follow with uninterrupted perseverance.
The change in Lady Delacour's manner of life, in the hours and the company that she kept, contributed much to her recovery.[9] She was no longer in continual anxiety to conceal the state of her health from the world. She had no secret to keep--no part to act; her reconciliation with her husband and with his friends restored her mind to ease and self-complacency. Her little Helena was a source of daily pleasure; and no longer conscious of neglecting her daughter, she no longer feared that the affections of her child should be alienated. Dr. X----, well aware that the passions have a powerful influence over the body, thought it full as necessary, in some cases, to attend to the mind as to the pulse. By conversing with Lady Delacour, and by combining hints and circumstances, he soon discovered what had lately been the course of her reading, and what impression it had made on her imagination. Mrs. Marriott, indeed, assisted him with her opinion concerning
the methodistical books; and when he recollected the forebodings of death which her ladyship had felt, and the terror with which she had been seized on the night of Mrs. Freke's adventure, he was convinced that superstitious horrors hung upon his patient's spirits, and affected her health. To argue on religious subjects was not his province, much less his inclination; but he was acquainted with a person qualified by his profession and his character 'to minister to a mind diseased,' and he resolved on the first favourable opportunity to introduce this gentleman to her ladyship.
[Footnote 9: we spare the reader the medical journal of Lady Delacour's health for some months. Her recover was gradual and complete.]
One morning Lady Delacour was complaining to Belinda, that the books in the library were in dreadful confusion. "My lord has really a very fine library," said she; "but I wish he had half as many books twice as well arranged: I never can find any thing I want. Dr. X----, I wish to heaven you could recommend a librarian to my lord--not a chaplain, observe."
"Why not a chaplain, may I ask your ladyship?" said the doctor.
"Oh, because we had once a chaplain, who gave me a surfeit of the whole tribe. The meanest sycophant, yet the most impertinent busy-body--always cringing, yet always intriguing--wanting to govern the whole family, and at the same time every creature's humble servant--fawning to my lord the bishop, insolent to the poor curate--anathematizing all who differed from him in opinion, yet without dignity to enforce the respect due to his faith or his profession--greedy for preferment, yet without a thought of the duties of his office. It was the common practice of this man to leap from his horse at the church door on a holiday, after following a pack of hounds, huddle on his surplice, and gabble over the service with the most indecent mockery of religion. Do I speak with acrimony? I have reason. It was this chaplain who first led my lord to Newmarket; it was he who first taught my lord to drink. Then he was
a wit--an insufferable wit. His conversation after he had drank was such as no woman but Harriot Freke could understand, and such as few
gentlemen could hear. I have never, alas! been thought a prude, but in the heyday of my youth and gaiety, this man always disgusted me. In one word, he was a buck parson. I hope you have as great a horror for this species of animal as I have?"
"Full as great," replied Dr. X----; "but I consider them as monsters, which belonging to no species, can disgrace none."
"They ought to be hunted by common consent out of civilized society," said Lady Delacour.
"They are by public opinion banished from all rational society; and your ladyship's just indignation proves, that they have no chance of being tolerated by fashion. But would it not allow such beings too much consequence, would it not extend their power to do mischief, if we perceived that one such person could disgust Lady Delacour with the whole race of chaplains?"
"It is uncommon," replied her ladyship, "to hear a physician
earnest in the defence of the clergy--and a literary philosophic physician too! Shall we have an eulogium upon bishops as well as chaplains?"
"We have had that already," replied Dr. X----. "All ranks, persuasions, and descriptions of people, including, I hope, those stigmatized by the name of philosophers, have joined in admiration of the bishop of St. Pol de Leon. The conduct of the real martyrs to their faith amongst the French clergy, not even the most witty or brutal sceptic could ridicule."
"You surprise me, doctor!" said Lady Delacour; "for I assure you that you have the character of being very liberal in your opinions."
"I hope I am liberal in my opinions," replied the doctor, "and that I give your ladyship a proof of it."
"You would not then persecute a man or woman with ridicule for believing more than you do?" said Lady Delacour.
"Those who persecute, to overturn religion, can scarcely pretend to more philosophy, or more liberality, than those who persecute to support it," said Dr. X----.
"Perhaps, doctor, you are only speaking popularly?"
"I believe what I now say to be true," said Dr. X----, "and I always endeavour to make truth popular."
"But possibly these are only truths for ladies. Doctor X---- may be such an ungallant philosopher, as to think that some truths are not fit for ladies. He may hold a different language with gentlemen."
"I should not only be an ungallant but a weak philosopher," said Dr. X----, "if I thought that truth was not the same for all the world who can understand it. And who can doubt Lady Delacour's being of that number?"
Lady Delacour, who, at the beginning of this conversation, had spoken guardedly, from the fear of lowering the doctor's opinion of her understanding, was put at her ease by the manner in which he now spoke; and, half laying aside the tone of raillery, she said to him, "Well, doctor! seriously, I am not so
illiberal as to condemn
all chaplains for one, odious as he was. But where to find his contrast in these degenerate days? Can you, who are a defender of the faith, and so forth, assist me? Will you recommend a chaplain to my lord?"
"Willingly," said Dr. X----; "and that is what I would not say for a world of fees, unless I were sure of my man."
"What sort of a man is he?"
"Not a buck parson."
"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."
These circumstances, even if he had not precisely resembled Chaucer's character of a benevolent clergyman, would have strongly interested Lady Delacour in his favour. She found him, upon farther acquaintance, a perfect contrast to her former chaplain; and he gradually acquired such salutary influence over her mind, that he relieved her from the terrors of methodism, and in their place substituted the consolations of mild and rational piety.
Her conscience was now at peace; her spirits were real and equable, and never was her conversation so agreeable. Animated with the new feelings of returning health, and the new hopes of domestic happiness, she seemed desirous to impart her felicity to all around her, but chiefly to Belinda, who had the strongest claims upon her gratitude, and the warmest place in her affections. Belinda never made her friend feel the weight of any obligation, and consequently Lady Delacour's gratitude was a voluntary pleasure--not an expected duty. Nothing could be more delightful to Miss Portman than thus to feel herself the object at once of esteem, affection, and respect; to see that she had not only been the means of saving her friend's life, but that the influence she had obtained over her mind was likely to be so permanently beneficial both to her and to her family.
Belinda did not take all the merit of this reformation to herself: she was most willing to share it, in her own imagination, not only with Dr. X---- and Mr. Moreton, but with poor Clarence Hervey. She was pleased to observe that Lady Delacour never omitted any occasion of doing justice to his merit, and she loved her for that generosity, which sometimes passed the bounds of justice in her eulogiums. But Belinda was careful to preserve her consistency, and to guard her heart from the dangerous effect of these enthusiastic praises; and as Lady Delacour was now sufficiently re-established in her health, she announced her intention of returning immediately to Oakly-park, according to her promise to Lady Anne Percival and to Mr. Vincent.
"But, my dear," said Lady Delacour, "one week more is all I ask from you--may not friendship ask such a sacrifice from love?"
"You expect, I know," said Miss Portman, ingenuously, "that before the end of that time Mr. Hervey will be here."
"True. And have you no friendship for him?" said Lady Delacour with an arch smile, "or is friendship for every man in the creation, one Augustus Vincent always excepted, prohibited by the statutes of Oakly-park?"
"By the statutes of Oakly-park nothing is forbidden," said Belinda, "but what reason--"
"Reason! Oh, I have done if you go to reason! You are invulnerable to the light shafts of wit, I know, when you are cased in this heavy armour of reason; Cupid himself may strain his bow, and exhaust his quiver upon you in vain. But have a care--you cannot live in armour all your life--lay it aside but for a moment, and the little bold urchin will make it his prize. Remember, in one of Raphael's pictures, Cupid creeping into the armour of the conqueror of the world."
"I am sufficiently aware," said Belinda, smiling, "of the power of Cupid, and of his wiles. I would not brave his malice, but I will fly from it."
"It is so cowardly to fly!"
"Surely prudence, not courage, is the virtue of our sex; and seriously, my dear Lady Delacour, I entreat you not to use your influence over my mind, lest you should lessen my happiness, though you cannot alter my determination."
Moved by the earnest manner in which Belinda uttered these words, Lady Delacour rallied her no more, nor did she longer oppose her resolution of returning immediately to Oakly-park.
"May I remind you," said Miss Portman, "though it is seldom either politic or polite, to remind people of their promises,--but may I remind you of something like a promise you made, to accompany me to Mr. Percival's?"
"And would you have me behave so brutally to poor Lord Delacour, as to run away from him in this manner the moment I have strength to run?"
"Lord Delacour is included in this invitation," said Miss Portman, putting the last letter that she had received from Lady Anne Percival into her hands.
"When I recollect," said Lady Delacour, as she looked over the letter, "how well this Lady Anne of yours has behaved to me about Helena, when I recollect, that, though you have been with her so long, she has not supplanted me in your affections, and that she did not attempt to detain you when I sent Marriott to Oakly-park, and when I consider how much for my own advantage it will be to accept this invitation, I really cannot bring myself, from pride, or folly, or any other motive, to refuse it. So, my dear Belinda, prevail upon Lord Delacour to spend his Christmas at Oakly-park, instead of at Studley-manor (Rantipole, thank Heaven! is out of the question), and prevail upon yourself to stay a few days for me, and you shall take us all with you in triumph."
Belinda was convinced that, when Lady Delacour had once tasted the pleasures of domestic life, she would not easily return to that dissipation which she had followed from habit, and into which she had first been driven by a mixture of vanity and despair. All the connexions which she had imprudently formed with numbers of fashionable but extravagant and thoughtless women would insensibly be broken off by this measure; for Lady Delacour, who was already weary of their company, would be so much struck with the difference between their insipid conversation and the animated and interesting society in Lady Anne Percival's family, that she would afterwards think them not only burdensome but intolerable. Lord Delacour's intimacy with Lord Studley was one of his chief inducements to that intemperance, which injured almost equally his constitution and his understanding: for some weeks past he had abstained from all excess, and Belinda was well aware, that, when the immediate motive of humanity to Lady Delacour ceased to act upon him, he would probably return to his former habits, if he continued to visit his former associates. It was therefore of importance to break at once his connexion with Lord Studley, and to place him in a situation where he might form new habits, and where his dormant talents might be roused to exertion. She was convinced that his understanding was not so much
below par as she had once been taught to think it: she perceived, also, that since their reconciliation, Lady Delacour was anxious to make him appear to advantage: whenever he said any thing that was worth hearing, she looked at Belinda with triumph; and whenever he happened to make
a mistake in conversation, she either showed involuntary signs of uneasiness, or passed it off with that easy wit, by which she generally knew how "to make the worse appear the better reason." Miss Portman knew that Mr. Percival possessed the happy talent of drawing out all the abilities of those with whom he conversed, and that he did not value men merely for their erudition, science, or literature; he was capable of estimating
the potential as well as
the actual range of the mind. Of his generosity she could not doubt, and she was persuaded that he would take every possible means which good nature, joined to good sense, could suggest, to raise Lord Delacour in his lady's esteem, and to make that union happy which was indissoluble. All these reflections passed with the utmost rapidity in Belinda's mind, and the result of them was, that she consented to wait Lady Delacour's leisure for her journey. _