“You plead conscience when you should give, and make no pains to receive courtesy of your friends,” replied Sir John. Then, changing from the sarcastic tone in which this was uttered to one of vehemence, he proceeded. “But I appeal to Him who searches the consciences of all men, whether you have used me well; and whether conscience, which you have ever in your mouth, be the sole hindrance of my request. I will avow and justify it before the greatest divines in England, that has always been the usage, now is, and ever will be, that a man may with a safe conscience be a farmer of a living, paying in effect for the same as much as it is worth. I stand on your word, my lord of St. Asaph, your sacred word of promise, the confirmation of my lease and the advowson.”
Temperate and patient still was the Prelate’s reply. “I made no such promise; my words were ‘that I would be very loath to confirm any lease upon any presentative benefice; that I would do as much, and more for you, than for any other; that if I would confirm any lease, yours would be the first.’ In conclusion, I never did confirm any, nor do I mean so to do; therefore is such conditional promise void, and my honour and word sufficiently vindicated.”
The Baronet tenaciously urged,—“It is well known that your Lordship has favoured others in such a matter.”
“Not so,” replied the Bishop, rather more impatiently; “you well know there is a difference between granting a lease of our own, and confirming the lease of another; between a presentative benefice and an impropriation; between a public usage and a private one: still you refuse to note these distinctions, and exclaim that I have confirmed the lease, and will not, according to my promise, confirm yours.”
The last remark of the Bishop’s appeared to be unanswerable, and Sir John seemed to think so too, as, instead of replying to the argument directly, he began to beg the question, and give way to the overbearing petulance of a spoiled child of fortune.
“It is not,” replied he, “the loss of the thing that I regard a dobkin, but your unkind dealing; it shall lessen me hereafter to expect no sweet fruit from so sour a stock. But my lord of St. Asaph, you know my stand in the world. I never have been a man to make requests and be denied; therefore having never failed before in my requests, my grief is the greater.”