Here the Bishop resumed his seat, and the Baronet with great assumption of stateliness, rose and spoke in a slow and acrimonious strain.
“The sower went out to sow; and some of his seed fell in stony ground, where it withered, because it took not root; the seed was good, but the land nought. I may justly say so by you, my lord. I have in all things showed myself a friend, my lord; inasmuch that if I had not pointed the way with my finger, whereof I have yet good testimony, your lordship would have been still humble vicar of Llaurhaiader.”
The Bishop, without rising, mildly replied, “You have done me much kindness, Sir John, but no dishonest kindness; nor do I mean to deny you any of your fair requests.”
“I am really much obliged to your lordship, for your present good opinion,” replied the Baronet, with sneering courtesy, “more particularly that you express your opinion before Mr. Martyn. But the words you have just uttered agree only indifferently with others you have at various times used in reference to me.”
“Good Sir John,” replied the Bishop, “you do wrong me very much to say so.”
Sir John replied with much warmth, “I have good proof, my lord, that you protested to your late servant, Thomas Vaughan, that all the good I ever did you, when vicar of Llaurhaiader, was to go to Llandda Church, and with my family add so much to your scanty congregation there; and, forsooth! that I had once on a time sent you a fat ox, on your installation in the See of Asaph; truly, my lord, this is to strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel.”
The good Bishop’s reply was mild and conciliating. “Good Sir John, you wrong yourself as much as me, to believe such idle sayings. If this were not a case of conscience, you should not need to ask me twice; remembering ancient kindness, your request is of great force to me.”
“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.”