Richard Chartres, Bishop of London since 1995, is the right age to be the next Archbishop of Canterbury and certainly has the ability. His foremost qualities are a quite remarkable self-assurance, charm, and speed of thought.

There are those who say that this speed comes from the fact that he has never had an original idea in his life, but in fact his ideas are so old-fashioned as to appear startlingly new in a modern context. Unlike most modern traditionalists, he has roots going back a long way further than the early 20th century.

The chief drawback for his candidature is his opposition to the ordination of women, expressed with the simple and charming opacity that once distinguished Cardinal Hume. When he says that he would welcome the ordination of women if the Orthodox would accept it too, is he saying that he is himself in favour, or is he saying "never in hell"? The answer is that he is saying both simultaneously. Either way, he will be telling the truth.

That sounds like his mentor Lord Runcie, to whom he was chaplain for eight years, and who was often accused of ambiguity on this and other matters. But in fact the two men's style is very different. Though they share a sound diplomatic instinct and a great deal of charm, Chartres does not have Runcie's curious gift, or blight, of intimacy. He radiates discipline, and self-discipline. He is also good at loyalty, both upwards and downwards.

The gay clergy of London, whose behaviour he does not publicly condone nor even acknowledge, trust him to play by the rules. If they remain out of sight, he will protect them, though seldom promote them; at Lambeth he praised the Nigerian Bishop Chukwama who attempted to exorcise Richard Kirker.

He put a quick end to the tradition whereby the Bishop of London's staff sniped at the performance of the Archbishop of Canterbury. There has never been a whisper of disloyalty towards the archbishop in public.

On the other hand, there has been no need of it. He, rather than the archbishop, was invited to confirm the princes at Eton; and he has been to lunch at Highgrove with Charles and Camilla, though he would not spend the night under their adulterous roof. He shares with Charles a fondness for the prayer book and a distaste for a great deal of modern life. It is generally believed, however, that he is a much more sincere Christian.

He is very proud of the fact that church attendance in London has risen while he is the bishop. There is no need to draw obnoxious comparisons with the fate of the decade of evangelism elsewhere. The real question is whether he wants the job. Since he is sane, the answer is probably not, but he may very well be persuaded that God thinks him the best man. His wife, Caroline, is unaffectedly grand and funny, too.

It is not well enough known that he is related to the Mayor of Cork, Terence MacSweeney, who died on hunger strike in pursuit of Irish Independence in 1921.

Illustration: John Richardson / Funny Business
© Ship of Fools 2000