fret him with a
feverish being, tainted with the jail-distemper of a contagious
servitude, to keep him above ground an animated mass of putrefaction,
corrupted himself, and corrupting all about him.

The act repealed was of this direct tendency; and it was made in the
manner which I have related to you. I will now tell you by whom the bill
of repeal was brought into Parliament. I find it has been industriously
given out in this city (from kindness to me, unquestionably) that I was
the mover or the seconder. The fact is, I did not once open my lips on
the subject during the whole progress of the bill. I do not say this as
disclaiming my share in that measure. Very far from it. I inform you of
this fact, lest I should seem to arrogate to myself the merits which
belong to others. To have been the man chosen out to redeem our
fellow-citizens from slavery, to purify our laws from absurdity and
injustice, and to cleanse our religion from the blot and stain of
persecution, would be an honor and happiness to which my wishes would
undoubtedly aspire, but to which nothing but my wishes could possibly
have entitled me. That great work was in hands in every respect far
better qualified than mine. The mover of the bill was Sir George
Savile.

When an act of great and signal humanity was to be done, and done with
all the weight and authority that belonged to it, the world could cast
its eyes upon none but him. I hope that few things which have a tendency
to bless or to adorn life have wholly escaped my observation in my
passage through it. I have sought the acquaintance of that gentleman,
and have seen him in all situations. He is a true genius; with an
understanding vigorous, and acute, and refined, and distinguishing even
to excess; and illuminated with a most unbounded, peculiar, and original
cast of imagination. With these he possesses many external and
instrumental advantages; and he makes use of them all. His fortune is
among the largest,--a fortune which, wholly unincumbered as it is with
one single charge from luxury, vanity, or excess, sinks under the
benevolence of its dispenser. This private benevolence, expanding itself
into patriotism, renders his whole being the estate of the public, in
which he has not reserved a _peculium_ for himself of profit, diversion,
or relaxation. During the session the first in and the last out of the
House of Commons, he passes from the senate to the camp; and seldom
seeing the seat of his