Of Thurlow it has been said that he was renowned as a swearer even in a swearing age. "He took it as a lad who wishes to show that he has arrived at man's estate. He could not have got on without it."[33] At one time a dispute was pending as to the right to present to a vacant benefice. A certain bishop who claimed the right sent his secretary to argue with Lord Thurlow, who, for his part, obstinately maintained the counter-claim of the Crown. The envoy no sooner opened his case and made known his message, than Thurlow cut short all further argument. "Give my compliments to his lordship, and tell him I will see him damned before he present." "That," remonstrated the secretary, "is a very unpleasant message to deliver to a bishop." "You are right," replied Thurlow, "so it is. Tell him I will see myself damned before he present." Another professor in the same uncompromising school of hard swearers would seem to have been Sir Thomas Maitland, His Majesty's Lord High Commissioner administering the government of the Ionian Islands, at that time and long afterwards under the British dominion. Sir Charles Napier relates that on arriving at Corfu to enter upon a military appointment, and being ushered into his Excellency's presence, he was received with a sullen "Who the devil are you?" and on explaining his business, Sir Thomas rejoined, "Then I hope you are not such a damned scoundrel as your predecessor." Sir Thomas seems to have been in the habit of dealing out abuse the most flagrant towards those with whom he was brought into contact. "On one occasion,"--we may follow Sir Charles Napier's words,--"the senate having been assembled in the saloon of the palace waiting in all form for his Excellency's appearance, the door slowly opened and Sir Thomas walked in with the following articles of clothing upon him: "One shirt, which like Tam o' Shanter's friend, the cutty-sark, "In longitude was sorely scanty." "One red night-cap, "One pair of slippers. "The rest of his Excellency's person was perfectly divested of garments. In this state he walked into the middle of the saloon, looked round at the assembled senators and then said, addressing the secretary, "Damn them, tell them all to go to hell."[34] What reception this outburst provoked from the assembled notables we are not informed. When Thurlow once at a dinner-party administered a similar admonition to a blundering man-servant, telling him he wished he was in hell, the terrified man wearily replied, "I wish I was, my lord! I wish I was."