government pleasing to the people.  But the widest range of this politic complaisance is confined within the limits of justice.  I would not only consult the interest of the people, but I would cheerfully gratify their humors.  We are all a sort of children that must be soothed and managed.  I think I am not austere or formal in my nature.  I would bear, I would even play my part in, any innocent buffooneries, to divert them.  But I never will act the tyrant for their amusement.  If they will mix malice in their sports, I shall never consent to throw them any living, sentient creature whatsoever, no, not so much as a kitling, to torment.

“But if I profess all this impolitic stubbornness, I may chance never to be elected into Parliament.”—­It is certainly not pleasing to be put out of the public service.  But I wish to be a member of Parliament to have my share of doing good and resisting evil.  It would therefore be absurd to renounce my objects in order to obtain my seat.  I deceive myself, indeed, most grossly, if I had not much rather pass the remainder of my life hidden in the recesses of the deepest obscurity, feeding my mind even with the visions and imaginations of such things, than to be placed on the most splendid throne of the universe, tantalized with a denial of the practice of all which can make the greatest situation any other than the greatest curse.  Gentlemen, I have had my day.  I can never sufficiently express my gratitude to you for having set me in a place wherein I could lend the slightest help to great and laudable designs.  If I have had my share in any measure giving quiet to private property and private conscience,—­if by my vote I have aided in securing to families the best possession, peace,—­if I have joined in reconciling kings to their subjects, and subjects to their prince,—­if I have assisted to loosen the foreign holdings of the citizen, and taught him to look for his protection to the laws of his country, and for his comfort to the good-will of his countrymen,—­if I have thus taken my part with the best of men in the best of their actions, I can shut the book:  I might wish to read a page or two more, but this is enough for my measure.  I have not lived in vain.

And now, Gentlemen, on this serious day, when I come, as it were, to make up my account with you, let me take to myself some degree of honest pride on the nature of the charges that are against me.  I do not here stand before you accused of venality, or of neglect of duty.  It is not said, that, in the long period of my service, I have, in a single instance, sacrificed the slightest of your interests to my ambition or to my fortune.  It is not alleged, that, to gratify any anger or revenge of my own, or of my party, I have had a share in wronging or oppressing any description of men, or any one man in any description.  No! the charges against me are all of one kind:  that I have pushed the principles of general justice and benevolence too far,—­further than a cautious policy would warrant, and further than the opinions of many would go along with me.  In every accident which may happen through life, in pain, in sorrow, in depression, and distress, I will call to mind this accusation, and be comforted.