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T K I H U T E 
 
 MASSACHUSETTS IIISTOIUCAL SOCIETY, 
 
 vTo M)r i-Hrnioin 
 
 EDWARD EVERETT, 
 
 JANUAKV 30, 18fi.-,. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 M ASM AC H r S ETT S IIISTOUICAL SOCIETY. 
 

 ^Op« c. 
 
Til I r. r I' i: 
 
 MASS.VCIirsKTTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY, 
 
 A Special Meeting of tlic Ma^sacluisctts Historical Society was 
 licKl in tlie Dowse Lil>rary on Monilay evening, January 30, 
 18(55, to conimeinorate tlieir late illustrious associate, Kilwnnl 
 Everett. The attendance was very large. 
 
 The ineetini' was called to order at 7i o'clock I)V the President, 
 the Hon. Robert C. \\'infhrop, who spoke as follows : — 
 
 Gentlemen of the Massachusetts Historical Society: 
 
 The occasion of tliis meeting is but too well known to 
 vou all. None of ns were strangers to the grief which 
 pervaded this community on the recent announcement of 
 the death of Kdward Everett. Not a few of us liave liad 
 the privilege of uniting with the public authorities, wlio 
 hastened to assume the whole charge of liis funeral, in 
 paving the last tribute to his honored remains. And 
 more than one of tjs have already had an opportunity of 
 giving some feeble expression to our sense of the loss 
 which has been sustained I)y our city, our Common- 
 wealth, and our whole country. 
 
 Hut we are here this evening to take up im iiiimi- 
 again somewhat more deliberately, as a Society of wlii<h 
 
4 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 he was so long one of the most vahiable, as well as one 
 of the most distinguished members. We are here not 
 merely to unite in lamenting the close of a career which 
 has been crowded with so many good words and good 
 works for the community and the country at large, but 
 to give utterance to our own particular sorrow for the 
 breach which has been made in our own cherished circle. 
 
 Mr. Everett was elected a member of this Society on 
 tlie 27th of April, 1820, when he was but twenty-six 
 years of age ; and, at the time of his death, his name 
 stood second in order of seniority on the roll of our 
 resident members. I need not attempt to say to you how 
 mixch we have prized his companionship, how often we 
 have profited of his counsels, or how deeply we have been 
 indebted to him for substantial services which no one 
 else could have rendered so well. 
 
 His earliest considerable effort in our behalf was a lec- 
 ture delivered before us on the 31st of October, 1833. It 
 was entitled " Anecdotes of Early Local History," and will 
 be found in the second volume of his collected works, — 
 now lying upon our table, — with an extended note or 
 appendix containing many interesting details concerning 
 the Society, its objects and its members. But it is only 
 within the last nine or ten years, and since his public life — 
 so far as office is necessary to constitute public life — was 
 brought to a close, that he has been in the way of taking 
 an active part in our proceedings. No one can enter the 
 room in which we are gathered without remembering how 
 frequently, during that period, his voice has been heard 
 among us in rendering such honors to others, as now, 
 
MEMOUUr. OK KDWAKK KVKKKrr. D 
 
 aliis, we arc so unexpectedly called to pay to himself. No 
 one can forget his admirable tributes to the l)el(»vtd Pres- 
 cott, to the excellent Nathan Hale, to the venerated 
 Quincy, among our immediate associates; — to Daniel I). 
 IJarnard of Albany and Henry I). Gilpin of Philadelphia, 
 to Washington Irving, to Hallam, to Humboldt, to Ma- 
 caulay, among our domestic and foreign honorary members. 
 Still less will any one be likely to forget the noble 
 eulogy which he pronounced, at our request, on the !)th 
 of December, 1.S5S, upon that remarkable self-made man 
 whom we have ever delighted to honor as our largest 
 benefactor, and in whose pictured presence we are at this 
 moment assembled. Often as I have listened to our la- 
 mented friend, since the year l^'il. — ulien I followed 
 liiin with at least one other whom I see before nif to 
 Plymouth Rock, and heard his splendid discourse on the 
 Pilgrim Fatlicrs, — I can hardly recall anything of his, 
 more striking of its kind, or more characteristic of its 
 author, than that elaliorate delineation of the life of 
 Thomas Dowse. No one, certainly, who was present on 
 the occasion, can fail to recall the exhibition which he 
 gave us, in its delivery, of the grasp and precision of his 
 wonderful memory, — when in descrilnng the collection 
 of water colors, now in the Athenienm gallery, whicli was 
 the earliest of Mr. Dowse's possessions, he repeated, 
 without faltering, the unfamiliar names of more than 
 thirty of the old masters from whose works they were 
 copied, and then turning at once U) the description of 
 the lilirary itself, as we see it now around us, proceeded 
 to re( ile tlie names of fift\tliree of the ancient authors 
 
6 MASSACHUSETTS IIISTOEICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 of Greek and Eoman literature, of nineteen of the modern 
 German, of fourteen of the Italian, of forty-seven of the 
 French, of sixteen or seventeen of the Portuguese and 
 Spanish, making up in all an aggregate of more than one 
 hundred and eighty names of artists and authors, many of 
 them as hard to pronounce as they were difficult to be 
 remembered, but which he rehearsed, without the aid of 
 a note and without the hesitation of an instant, with as 
 much ease and fluency as he doubtless had rolled off 
 the famous catalogue of the ships, in the second book of 
 Homer's Iliad, with the text-book in his hand, as a col- 
 lege student or as Greek professor, half a century before ! 
 
 I need hardly add that with this library, now our most 
 valued treasure, the name of Mr. Everett will henceforth 
 be hardly less identified than that of Mr. DoAvse himself. 
 Indeed, he had been associated with it long before it was 
 so munificently transferred to us. By placing yonder por- 
 trait of him, taken in his earliest manhood, upon the 
 walls of the humble apartment in which the books were 
 OTiginally collected, — the only portrait ever admitted to 
 their companionship, — our worthy benefactor seems him- 
 self to have designated Edward Everett as the presiding 
 genius or patron saint of this library ; and as such he will 
 be enshrined by us, and by all who shall succeed us, as 
 long as the precious books and the not less precious 
 canvas shall escape the ravages of time. 
 
 I may not omit to remind you that our lamented friend 
 — who was rarely without some labor of love for others 
 in prospect — had at least two matters in hand for us 
 at the time of his death, which he was hoping, and which 
 
mi:mokiai, oi' i'.i)\v.\i;i) kveuktt. 7 
 
 wc all were hopin;^, thiit he would soon be uble to com- 
 plete. Oue of them was ii mcniDir of that noble patriot 
 of South Carolina, James Louis Petigru, wliose lifelong 
 devotion to the cause of the American Union, alike in the 
 days of uuUitication and of secession, will secure him the 
 grateful remembrance of all to whom that Union is dear. 
 The other was a volume of Wasiiington's private letters, 
 whicjj he was preparing to publish in our current series 
 of historical collections. It is hardly a month since he 
 told me that the letters were all copied, and that lie was 
 sorry to be obliged to postpone the printing of them a 
 little longer, in order to find time for the annotations 
 with which he desired to accompany tliem. 
 
 But you do not require to be told, gentlemen, that what 
 Mr. Everett has done, or has proposed to do, specifically 
 for our own .Society, would constitute a very small part of 
 all that he has accomplished in that cause of American 
 history in which we are associated. It is true that he 
 has composed no independent historical work, nor ever 
 jiublishcd any volume of biography more considerable 
 than the excellent memoir of Wasliinyton, which lie pre- 
 l»ared, at the suggestion of iiis friend Lord Macaiday, 
 for the new edition of the Encyclopiedia 15ritannica. 15ut 
 there is no great epoch, — tiiere is hardly a single great 
 event, — of our national or of our colonial history, wliich 
 he iias not carefully depicted and brilliantly illustrated 
 in his occiisional discourses. I iiave .sometimes thought 
 that no more attractive or more instructive iiislory of our 
 country could be preMiited to tlie youth of our land, tiian 
 is found in the series of annivcrsarv orations wliich hu 
 
8 ■ MASSACHUSETTS HISTOKICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 has delivered during the last forty years. Collect those 
 orations into a volume by themselves ; arrange them in 
 their historical order : " The First Settlement of New 
 England, " " The Settlement of Massachusetts," " The 
 Battle of Bloody Brook in King Philip's War," 
 " The Seven Years' War, the School of the Eevolution," 
 " The First Battles of the Revolutionary War," -' The 
 Battle of Lexington," "The Battle of Bunker Hill," 
 "Dorchester in 1630, 1776, and 1855;" combine with 
 them those " Anecdotes of Early Local History," which 
 he prepared for our own Society, and add to them his 
 charming discourses on " The Youth of Washington," and 
 " The Character of Washington," on " The Boyhood and 
 the Early Days of Franklin," and his memorable eulogies 
 on Adams and Jefferson, on Lafayette, on John Quincy 
 Adams and on Daniel Webster, and I know not in Avhat 
 other volume the young men, or even the old men, of 
 our land could find the history of the glorious past more 
 accurately or more admirably portrayed. 1 know not 
 Avhere they could find the toils and trials and struggles 
 of our colonial or revolutionary fathers set forth with 
 greater fulness of detail or greater felicity of illustration. 
 As one reads those orations and discourses at this mo- 
 ment, they might almost be regarded as successive chap- 
 ters of a continuous and comprehensive work which had 
 been composed and recited on our great national anni- 
 versaries, just as the chapters of Herodotus are said to 
 have been recited at the Olympic festivals of ancient 
 Greece. 
 
 Undoubtedly, however, it is rather as an actor and an 
 
MKMOKIAI. OK KDWAKl) KVKKKTT. \) 
 
 orator in soiir- of the later scenes of our comitrv's 
 liistorv, than as an author, tliat Mr. I'.verett will bo 
 louijest remembered, hulccd, since he lirst entenil on 
 the stage of mature life, there has hardly been a scene 
 of any sort in that fj;reat historic drama, which of latt', 
 alas, has assumed the most terrible form of tra<;edv, in 
 which he has not been called to play a more or less 
 conspicuous part ; and we all know how perfectly every 
 part which has been assif,'ned him has been performed. 
 If we follow him from the hour \\lieii he left the 
 University of Cambridge, witli the highest academic 
 honors, at an age when so many others are hardlv ]>re- 
 pared to enter there, down to the fatal day wluii lie 
 uttered those last impressive words at I'aneuil Hall, we 
 shall find him everywhere occupied with the highest 
 duties, and everywhere discharging those duties with 
 consummate ability and unwearied devotion, ^'aried and 
 brilliant accomplishments, laborious research, coi)ious 
 diction, marvellous memory, magnificent rhetoric, a gra- 
 cious presence, a glorious voice, an ardent i)atriotism 
 controlling his public career, an unsullied jturifv < rown- 
 ing his j)rivate life, — what element was there wanting 
 in him for the complete embodiiiicnt of the (lassie orator, 
 as Cato and Quinctilian so ters(l\ and yet so compre- 
 hensively defined him eighteen liundred years ago — 
 " Vir honii.s, ilicenili peritus ! " 
 
 Hut I may not occupy more of your time in tlicsc 
 introductory remarks, intended onlv to exhiltit our dc- 
 part«'d friend in iiis relations to our own Society, and to 
 open the way for those who are prc-pared to do better 
 
10 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 justice to his general career and character. Let me 
 only add that our Standing Committee have requested our 
 associates, Mr. Hillard and Dr. Lothrop, to prepare some 
 appropriate resolutions for the occasion, and that the 
 Society is now ready to receive them. 
 
 Mr. Hillard then proceeded as follows : — 
 
 The Psalmist says, " The days of our years are three- 
 score years and ten, and if by reason of strength they be 
 forescore years, yet is their strength labor and sorrow." 
 The latter part of this sentence is not altogether true ; at 
 least, it is not without exceptions as numerous as the 
 rule. To say nothing of the living, we who have wit- 
 nessed the serene and beautiful old age of Quincy, pro- 
 tracted more than twenty years after threescore years and 
 ten, will not admit that all of life beyond that limit is of 
 necessity " labor and sorrow." But in these words there 
 is much of truth as this, that he who has lived to be 
 threescore and ten years old should feel that he has had 
 his fair share of life, and if any more years are dropped 
 into his lap he must receive them as a gift not promised 
 at his birth. And thus no man who dies after the age of 
 seventy can be said to have died unseasonably or prema- 
 turely. But the shock with which the news of Mr. 
 Everett's death fell upon the community was due to its 
 unexpectedness as well as its suddenness. We knew 
 that he Avas an old man, but we did not feel that he was 
 such. There was nothing either in his aspect or his life 
 that warned us of departure or reminded us of decay. 
 His powers were so vigorous, his industry was so great, 
 
MEMUKI.VL OK KOWAIIl) EVKUKTT. H 
 
 his svnipatliics wore so active, his eloquence was so ridi 
 and jj;lowin-;, his elocution still so uihniral)le, that hv ap- 
 peared helore us as a man in the very jiiinie of life, ;iii(l 
 when he died it was as if the sun had i^one down at nuoii. 
 The impression made by his death was the highest tril»- 
 nte that could he paid to the worth of his life. 
 
 lu 1.^19, after an absence of nearly five years, Mr. 
 Kverett returned from Europe at the age of twenty-five, 
 tlie most finished and accomplished man tiiat had been 
 seen in New England, and it will be generally admitted 
 that he maintained this superiority to tiie last. I'roni 
 that year down to the hour of his death he was constantly 
 before tlie public eye, and never witliout a marked and 
 ])eculiar influence upon the community, especially upon 
 students and scholars. You and I, Mr. President, are old 
 enough to have come under the spell of the magician at 
 that early period of his life, when he presented the most 
 attractive combination of graceful and blooming youth 
 with mature intellectual power. The young man of to- 
 day, familiar witli that expression of gravity, almost of 
 sadness, which his coinUenancc has habitually worn of 
 late, can hardly imagine what he then was, wlitn liis 
 "bosom's lord sat light upon his throne," when tlie uiiids 
 of hope filled liis sails, and his looks and movements were 
 informed with a spirit of morning freshness and vernal 
 ])romisf. 
 
 In the forty-five years which jjassed between his return 
 home and his death, Mr. Everett's industrv was unlirin"', 
 and the amnutit of work he a(•^ompli^'lled w:is immen»e. 
 What lie published would alone entitle him to llie praise 
 
12 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 of a very industrious man, but this forms but a part of 
 his labors. Of what has been called the master-vice of 
 sloth he knew nothing. He was independent of the 
 amusements and relaxations which most hard-working 
 men interpose between their hours of toil. He was 
 always in harness. 
 
 Some persons have regretted that he gave so much time 
 to merely occasional productions, instead of devoting 
 himself to some one great work ; but without speculating 
 upon the comparative value of what we have and what we 
 might have had, it is enough to say that with his genius 
 and temperament on the one hand, and our institutions 
 and form of society on the other, it was a sort of necessity 
 that his mind should have taken the direction that it did. 
 For he was the child of his time, and was always in har- 
 mony with the spirit of the age and country in which his 
 lot was cast. He was pre-eminently rich in the fruits of 
 European culture ; Greece, Eome, England, France, Italy, 
 and Germany, all lielped by liberal contributions to swell 
 his stores of intellectual wealth, but yet no man was ever 
 more national in feeling, more patriotic in motive and 
 impulse, more thoroughly American in grain and fibre. 
 Loving books as he did, he would yet have pined and 
 languished if he had been doomed to live in the unsym- 
 pathetic air of a great library. The presence, the com- 
 prehension, the sympathy of his kind were as necessary 
 to him as his daily bread. 
 
 " Two words," says Macaulay, " form the key of the 
 Baconian doctrine, Utility and Progress." I think these 
 two words also go far to reveal and interpret Mr. 
 
MKMoltlAI, OK KI)\V.\l;0 KVKUKTT. 13 
 
 Everett's motives and charartcr. Xot tliat lie did not 
 seek honorable di>;tinrti()n, not that he did not take 
 pleasnre in the a])jilause which he had fairlv lariied ; 
 but stron<»er even than these propcllini^ inipjilses was 
 his desire to be of service to his fellowmen, to do jjood 
 in his day and "iencration. He loved his conntrv with a 
 fervid love, and he loved his race with a generons 
 and comprehensive philanthropy. He was alwavs readv 
 to work cheerfully in any direction when he thouijht 
 he could do any pood, thou<jh the labor iniixht not be 
 jiarticularly congenial to his tastes, and would not add 
 anything to his literary reputation. The themes which 
 he handled, during his long life of intellectual action, 
 were very various, they were treated with great afhu- 
 ence of learning, singular beauty of illustration, and 
 elaborate and exquisite harmony of stvle, but alwavs in 
 such a way as to bear jiractical fruit, and contribute 
 to the advancement of society and the elevation of 
 humanity. 
 
 So, too, Mr. Everett was a sincere and consistent 
 friend of progress. lie was, it is true, conservative in 
 his instincts and convictions ; I mean in a large and 
 liberal, and not in a narrow and technical sense. Itiit 
 that he was an extreme conservative, or that he valued 
 an institution simply because it was old, is not oulv 
 not true, but, I think, the reverse of truth, lie had a 
 distaste to extreme views of any kind, and liy the 
 constitution of his mind, was disposed to taki' that 
 middle ground which partisan zeal is prone to idiiilifv 
 with timidilv or indiffennr e. Hut lie was a man of 
 
14 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 generous impulses and large sympathies. No one was 
 more quick to recognize true progress, and greet it 
 with a more hospitable welcome. Xo man of his age 
 would have more readily and heartily acknowledged the 
 many points in which the world has advanced since he 
 was young. 
 
 It would not be seasonable here to dwell upon Mr. 
 Everett's public or political career, but I may be per- 
 mitted to add that I think he had a genuine faith in the 
 institutions of his country, which did not grow fainter as 
 he grew older. He believed in man's capacity for self- 
 government, and had confidence in popular instincts. He 
 was fastidious in his social tastes, but not aristocratic ; 
 that is, if he preferred one man to another it was for 
 essential and not adventitious qualities, for what they 
 were, and not for what they had. He was uniformly 
 kind to the young, and always prompt to recognize and 
 encourage merit in a young person. 
 
 Mr. Everett, if not the founder of the school of 
 American deliberative eloquence, was its most brilliant 
 representative. In his orations and occasional discourses 
 will be found his best title to remembrance, and by 
 them his name will surely be transmitted to future 
 generations. In judging of them, we must bear in 
 mind that the aim of the deliberative orator is to treat a 
 subject in such a way as to secure and fix the atten- 
 tion of a popular audience, and this aim Mr. Everett 
 irever lost sight of. If it be said that his discourses 
 are not marked by originality of construction, or philo- 
 sophical depth of thought, it may be replied that had 
 
MEMOKIAI. OK KUWAHP EVEKF.TT. 15 
 
 they been so, tlicy would huvc bccu less attractive to his 
 hearers. They are remarkable for a combination of 
 qualities rarely, if ever before, so liappily lilendeil, and 
 especially for tlie grace, skill, and tact with wliicli tlie 
 resources of the widest cultivation are so used as to 
 instruct the common mind and touch the common 
 heart. For, whatever were tiie subject, .Mr. Everett 
 always took his audience along with him, from first 
 to last. He never soared or wandered out of their 
 sight. 
 
 I need not dwell upon the singular beauty ami finish 
 of his elocution. Those who have heard him speak 
 will need no descri|)tion of the pecidiar ciiarm and 
 grace of his manner, and no description will give any 
 adequate impression of it to those who nevei heard him. 
 It was a manner easily caricatured but not easily imitated. 
 His power over an audience remained unim])aire(l to the 
 last. At the age of seventy he spoke with all the anima- 
 tion of youth, and easily filled the largest hall witli tliat 
 rich and Hexible voice, tiie tones of which time had 
 hardly touched. 
 
 His organization was delicate and refined, his tem- 
 perament was sensitive and symjiathetic. Tlie opinion 
 of those whom he loved and esteemed was weighty willi 
 him. Praise was ever cordial to him, ami more neces- 
 sarv than to most men who had achieved siuh high and 
 assured distinction. Doubtful as the statement may seem 
 to those who knew liim but sliglifly, or only saw liim on 
 the i)latform witli iiis '• roljcs and singini: garlands" about 
 him, he was to the last u modest and self-distrustful 
 
16 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 man. He never appeared in public without a slight 
 flutter of apprehension lest he should fall short of that 
 standard which he had created for himself. His want 
 of self-confidence, and", in later years, his want of animal 
 spirits, sometimes produced a coldness of manner, which, 
 by superficial observers, was set down to coldness of 
 heart, but most unjustly. 
 
 His nature was courteous, gentle, and sweet. Few men 
 were ever more worthy than he to wear " the grand 
 old name of gentleman." His manners were graceful, 
 moie scholarly than is usual with men who had been 
 so much in public life as he had been, and sometimes 
 covered with a delicate veil of reserve. Conflict and 
 contest were distasteful to him, and it was his disposition 
 to follow the things that make for peace. He had a true 
 respect for the intellectual rights of others, and it was no 
 fault of his if he ever lost a friend through difl"erence of 
 opinion. 
 
 Permit me to turn for a moment to Mr. Everett's public 
 life for an illustration of his character. In forensic con- 
 tests, sarcasm and invective are formidable and frequent 
 weapons. The House of Commons quailed before the 
 younger Pitt's terrible powers of sarcasm. An eminent 
 living statesman and orator of Great Britain is remarkable 
 for both these qualities. But neither invective nor 
 sarcasm is to be found in Mr. Everett's speeches. I 
 think this absence is to be ascribed not to an intellectual 
 want but to a moral grace. 
 
 Great men, public men, have also their inner and 
 private life, and sometimes this must be thrown by the 
 
MKMKUIAL o| I !>\VA!!li KVKKKTT. 17 
 
 honest painter into shadow. But in Mr. Kvcrctt's case 
 there was no need of this, lor his private lite was spotk'ss. 
 In conduct and conversation lie always conformed to 
 the highest standard which pulilic opinion exacts of 
 the menihcrs of that profession to which he originallv 
 helonged. As a hrother, luu^band, father, and friend, 
 theic was no duty that he did not discharge, no call th..t 
 he did not obey. lie was generous in giving, and equally 
 generous in sacriticiug. Where he was most known 
 lie was best loved. lie was wlmlly free from that 
 exacting temper in small things which men, eminent 
 and otherwise estimable, sometimes fall into, llis dailv 
 life was made beautiful by a pervading spirit of thought- 
 ful consideration for those who stood nearest to him. 
 His household manners were delightful, and his house- 
 hold discourse was brightened by a lambent play of wit 
 and humor; qualities which he possessed in no common 
 measure, though they were rarely displayed before the 
 public. Could the innermost circle of Mr. Everett's life 
 be revealed to the general eye, it could not fail to deepen 
 the sense of bereavement which his death has awakened, 
 and to increase the reverence with whi< h his memory is 
 and will be cherished. 
 
 Xo man ever liore liis faculties and liis einiiniu <• 
 more meekly than he. He never declined the lowly 
 and commonplace duties of life. He was always ap- 
 proachable and accessiltle. The constant and various 
 interruptions to which he was exposed by the innu- 
 merable calls made upon his time and thnughts were 
 l)orne by him with singular patience and swcefnos. 
 
18 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 His industry was as methodical as it was uniform. How- 
 ever busy lie might be, he could always find time for 
 any service which a friend required at his hands. He 
 was scrupulously faithful and exact in small things. He 
 never broke an appointment or a promise. His splendid 
 powers worked with all the regularity and precision of 
 the most nicely adjusted machinery. If he had under- 
 taken to have a discourse, a report, an article, ready at a 
 certain time, it might be depended upon as surely as the 
 rising of the sun. 
 
 I feel that I have hardly touched upon the remark- 
 able qualities of Mr. Everett's mind and character, and 
 yet I have occupied as much of your time as is becoming. 
 1 have only to offer a few resolutions, in which I have 
 endeavored briefly and simply to give expression to what 
 we all feel. 
 
 ]Mr. Hillard then presented the following resolutions : — 
 
 Resolved, That as members of the Massachusetts His- 
 torical Society, we record, with mingled pride and sorrow, 
 our sense of what we have lost in the death of our late 
 illustrious associate, Edward Everett, the wise statesman, 
 the eloquent orator, the devoted patriot, the finished 
 scholar, whose long life of singular and unbroken intel- 
 lectual activity has shed new lustre upon the name of our 
 country in every part of the civilized world, and whose 
 noble powers and unrivalled accomplishments were always 
 inspired by an enlarged and enlightened philanthropy, 
 and dedicated to the best interests of knowledge, virtue, 
 and truth. 
 
MEMUUIAL OF LDWAKD KVKltKlT. 19 
 
 Resolved, Tlmt wc recall with peculiar sensiiiilitv tlio 
 personal qualities and private virtues of our depaitcd 
 friend, the purity and beauty of his daily life, his strict 
 allegiance to duty, the strength and tenderness of his 
 domestic afiectitjus, the uniform conscientiousness which 
 regulated his conduct, his spirit of self-sacrifice, his 
 thoughtful consideration for the rights and happiness of 
 others, and the gentleness with which his great faculties 
 and high honors were borne. 
 
 liesolced. That the President of the Societv be re- 
 quested to transmit these resolutions to the familv of 
 our lamented associate, with an expression of our deep 
 sympathy with them in their loss, and of our trust tliat 
 they nuiy find consolation not merely in the remembrance 
 of his long, useful, and illustrious career, but in the 
 hopes and promises of that religion of which he was a 
 firm believer, and which was ever to liim a sfafl" of 
 support through life. 
 
 The rcsoiiitions were secoiulcd liy tlic Hcv, I>r. Lutlimp, \\\n> 
 tlif'n addrt'sjctl the niectinir, as foljuw.s : — 
 
 Mk. PuismE.NT: I rise, at ynur request and at that of 
 the standing committee, to second the resolutions wliic li 
 have just been offered, and to pay my portion (t( tlie triliulc 
 of profound, grateful, and affectionate res|»ect, which the 
 Societv would offer this cvenin*; to the memorv of our cmi- 
 nent deceased associate. .\nd as we gather within tiu'sc 
 walls and in this room, where we have so often welcomed 
 his presence, I feel brought back upon me afresh that 
 sense of loneliness and of personal bereavement, which, in 
 
20 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 common with so many, I had when I first heard that one 
 Avho for niore than forty years had been the object of my 
 youthful and my mature admiration, one whose speech 
 never disappointed me, but had often stirred my heart 
 with pure and noble emotions, and to whom I and others 
 had so long been accustomed to turn upon all occasions of 
 public interest and importance, as the person who could 
 do and say, in the best way, the best things to be done and 
 said, was really dead, and that the utterances of his wis- 
 dom and eloquence would never more be heard by us on 
 earth. My sorrow, however, at his departure, the sorrow 
 of all of us, I think, must be greatly softened by the 
 extraordinary felicity of the time and manner of his death, 
 and by the recollection of the grand and noble career of 
 which that death was the close. 
 
 In view of ray profession and the pulpit which it has 
 been my honor and happiness to occupy in this city, it 
 may be permitted me, in glancing at his career, to speak 
 with some particularity of that which was the beginning 
 of it before the public — his brief but honorable connec- 
 tion with the clerical profession, and his short but brilliant 
 pastorate at Brattle Street Church. Mr. Everett has said, 
 I believe, that on leaving college his strongest preferences 
 were for the law ; but the influence and advice of friends, 
 combining with the promptings of his own heart, the deep 
 religious instincts of his nature, determined his choice of 
 the Christian ministry. That determination must now be " 
 regarded as fortunate for him and for us. He left the 
 pulpit, indeed, shortly after he had entered it; but no 
 true man ever forgets that he has stood in it, and the 
 
MF.MOUUL OF KDWAUD KVEnKTT. 21 
 
 stiulies, the spiritual discipline and culture of his earlv 
 profession seem to me to have exerted upon Mr. Mverdt's 
 mind and heart blessed and important inHuenccs. whii li 
 affected his whole subsequent career, and imprej^jnated his 
 life and character with the simple l)ut "rand disnitv of 
 l)urity. (Jraduatin-:; in 1811, at the age of seventeen, he 
 spent two years and a few months at C'ambri(l','e, ptirsuing 
 theological studies, and discharging at the same time the 
 onerous duties of a tutorship. On the 10th of December, 
 181:3, a mere youth, wIki had not yet nuinhcrt'd twenty 
 winters, he first stood in Brattle Street pulpit to preacii 
 as a candidate. Fame had preceded him, and told of his 
 talents rich and rare, of his great learning and his great 
 capacity to learn, — marvellous even then in the judgment 
 of his peers and of the University. — of liis exfraonliiiarv 
 gift of golden speech, his powers of winning, persuasive 
 oratory. 
 
 The great, though vague and undefined expectations 
 thus awakened, were not disappointed. I have been told 
 by many who distinctly remember the occasion, that when 
 he rose in the pulpit that morning, a youthful modesty, 
 almost timidity, blending with the dignity which a grave 
 and reverent sense of the importance of his office inspired, 
 lent a fascinating charm to his manner, and that from the 
 moment he opened his lips, the audience were held spell- 
 bound to the end of the service. When the days of his 
 c-ngagcment were numbered, the universal cry was, 
 *' Come unto us in tlic name of the Lord ; break unto us 
 the bread of life, and let all these rich gifts find their 
 usefulness and their glory in the service of the ^^aster 
 .1 
 
22 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 here among us." He heard the cry as the leadings of 
 Providence, and came. His ordination, on the 9th of 
 ^February, 1814, was an occasion of as deep interest as 
 any event of the kind ever excited. The most eminent 
 and excellent men of that day took part in it. It brought 
 a perfect satisfaction to the people. It awakened the 
 most brilliant anticipations. It was accompanied not 
 simply with the hope, but Avith the conviction, that the 
 former glory of that pulpit, which the death of Buckmins- 
 ter had veiled for a season, would be revived with in- 
 creased and increasing splendor. That conviction was 
 vei-ified. As the months rolled on. Brattle Street Church, 
 then near the residences rather than the business of the 
 people, was crowded Sunday after Sunday Avith audiences 
 of the intelligent and the cultivated, who went away 
 charmed, instructed, religiously impressed ; and the 
 records of the communion show that it was a season of 
 spiritual growth as well as of outward prosperity. But 
 the year had not reached its close before painful rumors 
 began to prevail that this was not to last, and at the end 
 of thirteen months after his ordination, he resigned his 
 charge, to accept the Eliot Professorship of Greek Litera- 
 ture in the University at Cambridge, to which he had 
 been appointed by the corporation, with leave of study 
 and travel for five years in Europe, in further preparation 
 for its duties. 
 
 He left the clerical profession, and virtually the pulpit, 
 when he thus left Brattle Street Church. On his return 
 from Europe, indeed, and for two or three years subse- 
 quently, he preached occasionally, some ten or fifteen, 
 
MIMiii;! AI. nK KDUAIM) FVI Id IT 23 
 
 perhaps twenty times in all. I may be permitted a hrit f 
 allusion to some of these occasions, which I rememlier. 
 First, of course, he preached in uliat had been iiis own 
 ]>ulpit, Brattle Street, in the summer of l!Sl!), a few weeks 
 after his return. I was one of the mighty company tiial 
 thronged the aisles of that church on that dav, and, stand- 
 ins? ou the window-seat nearest the door in tiie north 
 gallery, heard him for the first time when I was just old 
 enough to receive my first idea of eloquence, to understand 
 and feel something of its power. A month or two later, 
 in December of that year, I think, he preached a famous 
 Christmas sermon at King's Chapel, and on the first Sun- 
 day in December, 1820, the Quarterly Charity Lecture, at 
 the Old South Church, which was crowded to overflowing 
 to licar him. Another memorable and impressive sermon 
 of his, preached several times in different pulpits in this 
 vicinity, and which several gentlemen present must dis- 
 tinctly remember, was on the text, " The time is short." 
 lie preached the sermon at the funeral of the Rev. Dr. 
 Ijeutlcy, of Salem, on the 3d of January, IStiO, President 
 Kirkland and Dr. Ware of the University officiating in 
 tlie other parts of the service. This arrangement was 
 probably made in the expectation that Dr. Ik-ntley had left 
 his valuable library to Harvard College. l?iit the doc- 
 torate from Cambridge was conferred too late, and it was 
 fnund that the lilirary had been becpieathed to Alleghany 
 College; so, to the deep regret of those who heard it, 
 Mr. Kvcrctt's sermon on this occasion was never puli- 
 li.shed. On the 19th of .January, IHJl, he preached the 
 sermon at the dedication of tin- I irst Congregational 
 
24 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 Church in the city of New York, of which the late Rev. 
 William Ware subsequently became pastor. This sermon 
 was published, and is, I believe, the only sermon he ever 
 ])ublished. It is the only one I have ever seen. In style 
 it is simple and grave, less rhetorical than his orations. 
 It is liberal, but conservative, in its theology, broad and 
 catholic in its charity, fervent in tone and spirit, evidently 
 the product of a devout heart. This dedication at New 
 York was the last or among the last occasions on which 
 he preached. I feel quite confident that he did not preach 
 after 1821, because the next year, as some who hear me 
 will remember, in addition to the lectures connected with 
 his professorship, and other duties at Cambridge, he was 
 occupied with a course of lectures, whose preparation, 
 judging' from their learning and brilliancy, must have cost 
 him no little time and study, on Art and Architecture, — 
 more especially, if my memory serves me, on Greek and 
 Egyptian Architecture, — which he delivered at what was 
 then called the Pantheon Hall, on Washington Street, a 
 little south of the Boylston Market. Lectures of this 
 kind were then unusual in Boston, and these, having in 
 addition to their novelty the strong attraction of the name 
 and fame of the lecturer, \vere attended by an audience 
 as cultivated and appreciative as ever assembled for a 
 similar purpose. 
 
 From this review it appears that his whole connection 
 with the pulpit, including his preparatory studies and 
 pastorate before he went to Europe, and the period 
 during which he preached occasionally after his return, 
 was only about five years. His exclusive connection 
 
MK.MOKI Al. of KDWAIM) EVKKKTr. !>5 
 
 with it as pastor was only one year and a month lacking 
 four days, from the Dth of February, 1^1 I. to the Tith 
 of March, l!Sl'). In tliis brief period he made an 
 impression, a-; a preacher, which abides distinct and 
 clear to this hour in many hearts, lie left the pul|)it 
 with the reputation of being the most eminent and 
 elo([uent man in it ; and he left in and with the ])ro- 
 fession one book — his "Defence of Christianity" — 
 which at the time it was published was justly regarded 
 as one of the most learned and important theological 
 works that had then been written in America, and which, 
 considering its contents, the circumstances under which 
 it was prepared, and tlie extreme youth of tlie author, 
 nuiy still be regarded as one of the most extraordinary 
 books j)roduccd at any time in any ])rofcssion. It is 
 one of those books, of which the paradox may be uttered, 
 that its success caused its failure. It so perfectly 
 accomplished its work that it almost dropt out of exist- 
 ence. I'ew of the present generation ever heard of it, 
 fewer still know anything about it. Copies of it can 
 now be found only here and there, on the slielves of 
 Pid»lic Libraries, or among the hooks of aged clergymen. 
 It was jirepared, as some gentlemen here will remend)er, 
 in re[ily to a work liy Mr. (icorge IJethune English, 
 who graduated at Cambridge in 1807, the year Mr. 
 Kverett entered. This gentleman, not without talents, 
 but erratic in his career, which his death terminated in 
 IH'iH, remained at Cambridge four or five years after 
 graduating, studied theology, and I belieye, preached 
 fftr a brief |)eriod. Heim^ led, appan-nfly by the study 
 
26 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 of the deistical works of Anthony Collins, to adopt 
 opinions unfavorahle to Christianity as a divine revela- 
 tion, he published a book entitled, "The Grounds of 
 Christianity Examined by Comparing the New Testament 
 with the Old." This work, plausible in spirit, having 
 the appearance of great candor in statement and fairness 
 in argument, attracted attention and was much read. 
 It unsettled the faith of many, and, if left unanswered, 
 seemed destined to do this for many more. 
 
 Mr. Everett did, what several older men, I have 
 heard, attempted without success ; he made a triumphant 
 answer to Mr. English's book, in a volume of nearly 
 five hundred pages, which to this day must be regarded 
 as replete with the learning bearing upon its partic- 
 ular point. Cogent in argument, clear and close in its 
 reasoning, eloquent often in the fervor and glow of a 
 devout faith, keen yet kind in its wit and satire, conclu- 
 sive in its exposition of the ignorance of his opponent, 
 his plagiarism, and his dishonesty in the use of his 
 materials, this book so completely extinguished Mr. 
 English and his disciples, that it soon ceased to be 
 read itself. It died out, as I have said, and is now 
 known only to few of the older members of the commu- 
 nity and the profession. It is a book of such a charac- 
 ter, that any man at any period of his life might be 
 pardoned the manifestation of some little self-complacency 
 at finding himself the author of it. Many have passed 
 a long life in the profession, and held a high and honor- 
 able position in it, without giving any evidence of the 
 
MEMORIAL OF KDWAUD F.VKItETT. 27 
 
 mastery of so murh of the learning that hclongs to it as 
 is contained in tliis work. 
 
 His " Defence of ("hri>tianit\ , " written partly lufore 
 his ordination and iinl)lished six months afterwards, in 
 Augnst, \^\i. was Mr. Kverett's legacy to tlie clerical 
 profession, bequeathed to it before he was invested 
 with a legal manhood. I am aware that their opinions on 
 the Prophets and the Old Testament generally, do not 
 permit some eminent theological scholars to put a 
 very high estimate ui)on Mr. Kverett's " Defence of 
 Christianity," but, for myself, without disparagement of 
 the good he has done, and the honors he has attained 
 in other departments, I cannot but tliink, that if there 
 be any one event, work, or labor of liis varied and 
 useful life, of which he may, on a just e.stimatc of things, 
 be most proud, it is that in the days of his early youth, 
 on the very threshold of his career, he prepared and 
 j)ublished this book, which silenced the voice of infi- 
 delity and gave peace, satisfaction, and a firm faith to 
 tliousands of minds in a young and growing communitv. 
 
 We arc not surprised that a career, which began in 
 such industry, in the exhibition of so much learning and 
 such fidelity in improving ojjportunity, should liave gone 
 on to the close increasing in honor and usefulness. I 
 do not ])ropose to follow this career wifli such minute- 
 ness all through, nor would it be proper in me to <lo so 
 here ; but as I have spoken of the clergyman, I mav lie 
 permitted to sny something of the Professor at ('aml)ridge, 
 as I am the only memlier of the Society present, who, as a 
 pupil in the Academi*- Department "f tl.. T'l.iv.i.;*, 
 
28 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 had the benefit of his instructions and lectures. Cam- 
 bridge and the family of President Kirklaud having been 
 my home for several years before I entered college in 
 1821, not long after he entered upon his professorship, 
 I knew something about the college, and had ample 
 opportunity of knowing also the fresh impulse which he 
 gave to the study of Greek, by the general influence of his 
 reputation as a Greek scholar, by his occasional presence 
 at our recitations to the tutors in Greek, by his suggestive 
 direction or advice to such students as wished to give 
 special attention to this department, but chiefly by his 
 lectures on the Greek language and literature, which 
 were delivered to the senior class, in what was then, there 
 being three, the second or Spring Term of the college 
 year. The class graduating in 1825, of which I was a 
 member, was the last of the six classes who had the 
 benefit of these lectures. From my recollection of them, 
 from notes taken at the time, and from the printed synop- 
 sis which was furnished for our guidance, I have a strong 
 impression of the extraordinary character of those lec- 
 tures, as profound, comprehensive, discriminating, and 
 largely exhaustive of all the learning connected with 
 their theme. Had he published them when he resigned, 
 he would have left in his Professor's chair a legacy as 
 remarkable, in its kind, as his legacy to the pulpit in 
 his " Defence of Christianity," and secured to himself 
 such a reputation as a Greek scholar, master of all the 
 learning appertaining to the history and criticism of 
 Greek literature, as many a man would have been willing 
 to rest upon for the remainder of his life. 
 
Mi'MoiMvi .,)■ 11, w VIM' rvi"i;i;rr '29 
 
 15iit while professor at Camljriil-^c, Mr. Kvorett was 
 interested not simply in his iiniiiediate duties, hut in 
 whatever tourhed tiie welfare and improvement of the 
 college. In all departments his intlueuee was felt, and 
 in one direction he was active in a way which had some 
 connection, I snjjpose, with his resiy;nation of his j)rofes- 
 sorship to enter upon political life. In \X'2'-], some 
 of the eminent i^entlenien at C'amtiriilge, then resident 
 ])rofessors. took n[t the thought, not without some (juite 
 substantial reasons, that the " I'ellows," as they are 
 termed in the Charter, " Meml)ers of the Corporation," 
 as we commonly designate them, should he chosen from 
 among themselves ; that the authoritative body controlling 
 the college, having primarily the charge of all its inter- 
 ests, and the conduct of all its affairs, should he comi)osed 
 of the working men on tiie spot, who best understood its 
 condition and its wants, an<l were most competent to 
 carry it on successfully, rather than of gentlemen engaged 
 in other occupations, and living in Boston, Salem, or some 
 more distant place. In lS'i4, they prepared a memorial 
 to this effect, addressed to the Corporation, who referred 
 tliciii to the Hoard of Overseers, before which lunh, 
 a hearing, asked for and granted, was subse(|uently 
 h< Id. Ihe lati- .Andrews Norton, Dexter Professor of 
 Sacred Literature, and Mr. llverett, were selected to 
 represent ihe memorialists at this hearing. Mr. Norton 
 read a very able paper, marked by the concise accuracy 
 of statement and closeness of reasoning for which he 
 was distinguished. Mr. Everett, williout manuscript, 
 with onlv a (rw brief memoraiula. su( h a.s a lawver 
 
30 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 would use before a jury, addressed the Board in a 
 speech occupying more than two hours. He was inter- 
 rupted at times by gentlemen of the Board adverse to the 
 position of the memorialists, the accuracy, or pertinence, 
 or propriety of his statements questioned, and in one 
 instance, if not more, the decision of the Chair, (Lieut. 
 Gov. Morton presiding,) that he was " not in order," 
 required him to change his line of argument and 
 remark. Nothing, however, seemed to confuse or discom- 
 pose him. The situation was novel and trying, yet he 
 sustained himself with an admirable degree of self-posses- 
 sion, and conducted his cause with great ability. I have 
 always supposed that it was the exhibition of his powers 
 on this occasion, the coolness and tact with which he 
 conducted himself in an argument, and sometimes almost 
 a debate, before a body of eminent men, some of whom 
 were opposed to his position, that first suggested his 
 nomination to represent Middlesex in Congress, and that 
 his splendid and eloquent oration before the Phi Beta 
 Kappa Society, in August, 1824, only helped to confirm 
 the purpose of his nomination, and secure his election. 
 Thus much at least is clear, any distrust that may have 
 been felt in any quarter as to his fitness or competency 
 for congressional service, in view of his scholastic train- 
 ing and habits, found a conclusive answer in the manner 
 in which he bore himself in this hearing before the Board 
 of Overseers. 
 
 But whatever suggested the nomination, it was made, 
 and he was elected in the autumn of 1824, and, delivering 
 his lectures for the last time in the spring of 1825, he 
 
N[KMo!;iAL <)v i:ii\vAi;i) i;\i:ici;rr 31 
 
 lesiiined and took liis seat in Conj»rcss in DorpniluT of 
 that vcar. The deep regret felt and expressed 1)\ niunv 
 at tliat time, that so iiuuh leaininj;, snch various abilities, 
 persuasive eloquence, and rare comi)ination of qualities, 
 were lost to the direct service of literature and relii^ion, 
 must be lar:;elv diminished, if not entirelv extin<ruished bv 
 his eminent and brilliant success, by his wide spread use- 
 fulness in varied departments of public and political life, 
 by the sini^ular nobleness and purity of his whole career, 
 and by his constant fidelity and devotedness to the interests 
 of truth, virtue, and reli<j;ion. For he seems to me to have 
 been thus faithful and devoted. I feel disj)osed to main- 
 tain that Mr. Everett was true always to the spirit of his 
 early vows, and though he did not continue in the aduiin- 
 istration vf reliijion as an institution of society, he 
 continued to cultivate its spirit and jjower in his heart, 
 and to make it the controlling inspiration and energy of 
 his life. It is not necessary, nor would it be projjcr for 
 me here, to go into an analysis of his speeches, votes, 
 or conduct at various junctures in our public affairs during 
 tlie liist forty years, but it seems to me, that whatever 
 difference of judgment party predilections may dispose us 
 to entertain about portions of his jiublic career, a broad, 
 generous, just, and fair review of the whole of it. will lend 
 every one to concur in the position, that it was all niuler- 
 laid and impregnated from tlie beginning to the end \vith 
 a simple, honest, conscientious, ])atriotic purpose. 'I'lic 
 very admirable and beautiful analysis of liis character, 
 which Mr. Hillard has just read before us, seemed to me 
 fi> confirm this p(»>itiou. and to i,'i\c the trur ixpl;Mintiou 
 
32 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 of his course. From his entrance upon public life in 
 1825, to the spring of 1861, all through those more than 
 thirty years, in which the struggle between the antago- 
 nistic elements of liberty and slavery in our government 
 and institutions came up in various forms, he, in common 
 with many of our greatest statesmen and large masses of 
 our people, felt that a certain line of policy was the 
 wisest and the best, most adapted to keep the peace, to 
 preserve the Union from dissolution, and the Government 
 and the country from ruin. Therefore, adhering to this 
 policy, adopted on conviction, he was for patience, for- 
 bearance, compromise, concession, for yielding anything 
 and everything that could, not simply in justice, but in 
 generosity and honor, be yielded to satisfy those who 
 were perpetually holding over us the menace of dissolu- 
 tion. Honestly, and in the spirit of a broad patriotism, to 
 disarm this menace of all occasion and all justification, 
 was the purpose of his action and policy while in public 
 office, and of his efforts as a private citizen, and especially 
 of that grand national pilgrimage which he made with the 
 life and character of Washington as the theme of a magni- 
 ficent discourse, which he delivered so many times to such 
 vast assemblies in all the principal cities of the land, in the 
 hope that under the shadow of that august name, and by 
 the glory of a memory so sacred to all of us, he might 
 allay sectional prejudice and the strife of parties, and 
 bind all together in a common love and devotion to the 
 Union. But when this hope failed, and he found that 
 treason had developed its plans, that rebellion, unfurling its 
 standard, had inaugur.Ued civil war, then the policy that 
 
.Mi;.M<>!;l \I "I !li\\ AIM) r.VKUKTT. ;J;J 
 
 had hitherto fjjuidcd liis life was instantly ahandoni-d. 
 lie felt that there was nu longer aiiv room lur concession 
 or compromise, and so ■;jave himself, time, talents, wis- 
 dom, strength, all that he had, in all the wa\s that he 
 conld, to support the legitimate (jovernment of the 
 United States, in all the action and policy hy which that 
 (.Jovernment sought to nuiintain at all hazards and at 
 any cost the integrity of the Union and country whicli 
 that (Jovernment was instituted to preserve. But in all 
 this he was under the inspiration of a patri(Jti>m that 
 always dwelt in his heart, though in these latter years 
 he seems to have hecn raised to an energy, enthusiasm, 
 and earnestness of effort, that indicate a deeper and 
 stronger conviction that he was right tiian he exhiliited 
 or perhaps ever experienced hcfore. 
 
 This is the true interprctati(m, I comcivr, to l>e piil 
 upon Mr. Everett's political course as a puhlic man. 
 In our estimate of him intellectually, it will not he 
 maintained, I presume, that Mr. Everett was one of 
 those grand, original, creative, inventive, ])roductivc 
 minds, that strike out new paths in science, philoso])liv, 
 or the jiolicies of States. Such minds come upon tlie 
 world only in the cycle of centuries. I'ut lie had a 
 mind of vast j)owers, capahle of com|)reheu(ling prin- 
 ciples, gathering up details, and making use of hnth. 
 He had a conscientious, unwearied industry, and conse- 
 quently accumulated vast stores of knowhdge in all the 
 departments of art, science, history, and literature. He 
 ha<l a wonderful memory, raised to its highest power liy 
 constant (ulfurc nnd exercise. \\i- liad a ran- (om- 
 
34 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIKTV. 
 
 bination of intellectual, moral, and physical faculties, and 
 above all, he luid tlic power of using all his faculties 
 and all Ills acquisitions with grace, beauty, and dignity, 
 so tliat he touched nothing that he did not illustrate 
 and adorn, and came before us ever, on all occasions, 
 Avith a freshness and force that charmed and instructed. 
 As is well known to his intimate friends, he was singu- 
 larly kind, tender, faithful and true in every domestic 
 relation of life, and to all the claims of kindred and 
 friendship, with a warm heart under a reserved manner, 
 and a sympathizing spirit under lips often reticent ; and 
 if, remembering this, we do justice to his private, per- 
 sonal character, and then look at his ])ublic career, at 
 the wide circle of varied offices which he successively 
 held, at the labor performed, the ability displayed in 
 each ; if we add to these his works as a scholar and a 
 literary man, — his magnificent orations, all of them such 
 masterpieces of eloquence, pure and elevating in their 
 impression ; broad, noble, generous in their thoughts ; 
 breathing ever the spirit of piety and patriotism, fitted 
 to instruct om- people and unfold our history, while they 
 adorn our literature, — liis numerous contributions to the 
 periodical press, especially those to the North American 
 Review, often profound discussions of grave questions in 
 literature and philosophy ; if we then crown all with the 
 noble and patriotic labors of the last four years, we find 
 enough surely in this survey to win for him alike our 
 admiration and our gratitude ; enough, and more than 
 enougli, to dispose us to bow before liis memory in rever- 
 ence, and accord to him the name and the fame of being a 
 
MKMouiAi. oi rnw Mil) KVLUKir. ;J5 
 
 great man. ^\ lit-re shall wf find one who in sucli varied 
 s[)beres lias done so niucli and done it so well { His 
 was a noble lite and charaeter, and his eareer, followed 
 fioin tlie beginning to the end, was niaivellons in its 
 early pieeocity, its growing wisdom, its ever increasing 
 breadth, and its grand couelnsion. He was a I'ranklin 
 Medal scholar in the old North Cirammar School at the 
 age of ten, a Franklin Medal scholar at the I'nblir Latin 
 School at thirteen, chief in his class at Canibridgc at 
 seventeen, a tutor in tlie University at eighteen, an 
 ordained minister of the Gospel before he was twenty, 
 appointed to a professorship of d'reck literature before he 
 was twenty-one, elected a member of Congress at thirty ; 
 and thence, after a few years' service in the halls of na- 
 tional legislation, he was called to the Chief Magistracy 
 of this State, all of whose affairs he directed with wisdom, 
 dignity, and usefulness, — and thence to rejiresent his 
 country abroad in one of its most important and honorable 
 foreign embassies, — and thence, on his return to his 
 native land, to preside over the interests of learning at its 
 oldest and most advanced University, — and thence to a 
 seat in the National Cabinet for the Department of State, 
 — and thence to a seat in that august body, the Senate of 
 the United States, — and thence, through nolde and patri- 
 otic labors, to a higher and Itroader place than he liad 
 ever held before, in the hearts of his countrymen ; and 
 when he had attained to this grand preeminence, to be 
 the foremost j)rivate citi/en in all the land, holding no 
 pul)li<- otiicc, but wielding a power and doing a service 
 <vlii(h mere office couhl never do. wrariu'' this !,'reat 
 
36 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 distinction with unaffected modesty, walking among us 
 with none of the infirmities but all the glory of age upon 
 his person, and the wisdom of age in his speech, — then 
 the beautiful and fitting end came, and Avithout a linger- 
 ing sickness, without a shadow upon his noble faculties, 
 suddenly he died. Alone in his solitary preeminence, 
 alone, as it were, he died ; and that cold Sunday morning 
 air, that brought a chill to our bodies, as it swept through 
 our streets and by our doors with its sad announcement, 
 " Edward Everett is dead ! " brought a chill to our hearts 
 which the warmth of many summers will not dispel, and 
 left an image and a memory there that will abide with all 
 of us, beautiful and bright, so long as we live. Mr. 
 President, I second the resolutions. 
 
 The Hon. John C. Gray then spoke as follows : — 
 
 Mr. President : Apart from the intimation with 
 which I have been honored through you and other 
 respected friends, I might have been prompted by my 
 own feelings to offer a few remarks on this most solemn 
 and interesting occasion. One of the few remaining 
 companions of my youth has departed. An uninterrupted 
 friendship of nearly sixty years has been dissolved. 
 But I am not here to speak of my own loss or my own 
 feelings, but to contribute in doing justice to the memory 
 of the deceased. The theme is a most copious one. 
 It is not my purpose to analyze the character of our 
 friend, still less to indulge in vague and extravagant 
 eulogy. I prefer to speak briefly of those points in his 
 character which have stamped themselves most deeply 
 
MlMiiKI \I. Ill i;|i\\ \l;li l.VKKKTT. 37 
 
 on my own memory. ^^ e were of the same class in 
 college, and for two years of onr college life occupied 
 the same apartment. 1 have ever looked back on that 
 association us one of the most valuable, as well as one 
 of the most gratifying, of my early days. liis ripeness 
 of judgment was uot less remarkable than the precocity 
 of his genius. But there is yet higher praise. 
 
 I can say, and you perceive that I had some means 
 of knowing, that I never knew one who preserved a 
 more unrutfled temper. Not a single instance can I 
 recollect of irritability. Such a temper must of neces- 
 sity be its own reward, and I think we may fairlv 
 ascribe to it niucli (jf his subsequent greatness. I'or, 
 sir, among the many weighty truths wliicli fell tVoiii 
 his lips, I recollect none more striking than a remark 
 in his lecture to the working-men, while recommending 
 the improvement of their leisure hours. " Generally 
 speaking," he observes, " our business allows us time 
 enough, if our passions would but spare us." Never 
 man more faitlifully practised as he preached. In the 
 course of his life he had his sliare of those chastening 
 dispensations which come in various shapes and degrees 
 to every one. iiiit none of them caused the sliglitest 
 remission in his unwearied industry. Tiie great sum- 
 uums wliich awaitis us all found liitri at his wurk, and 
 so it would have done, come wlien it might. I shall 
 sav little more of his college life. New l',n''land cdu- 
 cation was not then what it has since becotnt-. Mr. 
 Ilverett improved his literary advantages to the utmohl, 
 and bore off the first honors. 
 
38 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 I pass over his short but brilliant ministry in the 
 pulpit and his years of assiduous study in foreign 
 countries. Shortly after his return he assumed the post 
 of editor of our leading review. It was at a most inter- 
 esting period. This country and Great Britain had 
 closed their contests by an honorable peace, and there 
 was on our side a general disposition to cultivate a 
 friendly and respectful feeling towards our late adver- 
 saries. This certainly was not fully reciprocated. The 
 leading British reviews seemed to agree in nothing so 
 much as in speaking of our country and its institutions 
 with hatred or contempt. Mr. Everett felt it his duty 
 to stand forth in defence of our good name. It is not 
 a little to his praise that while he did this most ably 
 and earnestly, he always preserved the dignity befitting 
 his cause and himself, and never descended to meet his 
 antagonists with their own Aveapons. There is good 
 reason to believe that his candid and manly appeals to 
 the good sense of the people of England were not in 
 vain, and that they contributed to create among educated 
 Englishmen a feeling better becoming them and more 
 just to us, a feeling which for a long time seemed prev- 
 alent, and which we had hoped would have been general 
 and permanent. Mr. Everett's able and eloquent defences 
 of the good name of his country naturally led to invi- 
 tations to serve her in public trusts. 
 
 I will not pretend to say that such invitations were 
 unacceptable. Suffice it to remark that, if he desired 
 public life, he never accepted an office which was not 
 properly offered, never purchased one by pledges in 
 
MEMDUIAI. OF EUWAUU KVKHKTr. 39 
 
 advance, direct or indirect, and never for a moment 
 used his position for the emohiment of himself or his 
 friends. ^Vhat 1 have more to say will hi- devoted to 
 his personal character A spotless private character has 
 ever heen considered in New England, and I trust not 
 in New EnjLjland alone, as one of the elements of true 
 greatness, and Heaven forbid that it should ever he held 
 in light estimation ! This merit was his beyond impeach- 
 ment, — not his alone, most certainly, but his eminence 
 in other respects rendered his example in this more 
 conspicuous, and thus more widely beneficial. Of this 
 character I shall notice one leading feature, — I mean 
 Ins wakeful and unremitted disposition to benefit others. 
 If judged by his fruits, we must allow that Edward 
 Everett was a most benevolent man. Ilis exertions and 
 resources of mind, body, or estate were most freely 
 imparted on every reasonable call, — I should say on 
 every reasonable opportunity. Whether the applicant 
 was a friend or a stranger, the occasion conspicuous or 
 unconspicnous, it was enough for liim that he could 
 serve or oblige in great or small. And now, sir, 1 
 will close by a few inquiries. No one will suspect me 
 of disparaging any of our eminent men, departed or 
 surviving, when I ask — 
 
 Has any one among tis ever been more distinguisheil 
 by a noble use of nol)le endowment? Has there been 
 any one less obnoxious to the charge of talents wasted 
 and time misspent ; any one who could say with more 
 truth in words he once felt compelled to utter, tiiat he 
 knew not how tlie bread of idleness tasted! Has any 
 
40 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 one done more, by his wise and eloquent productions, to 
 elevate, instruct, and refine the minds of his countrymen ] 
 Finally, has any one been more distinguished by exem- 
 plary fidelity in public office and by constant kindness 
 and benevolence in private life 1 Few higher eulogies 
 can be uttered than the reply which must rise to the 
 lips of every one. 
 
 George Ticknor, Esq. then addressed the meeting as follows : — 
 
 Mr. President : I ask your permission to say a few 
 words concerning the eminent associate and cherished 
 friend whom we have lost, — so sadly, so suddenly lost. 
 It is but little that I can say becoming the occasion, so 
 well was he known of all ; for, in his early youth, he rose 
 to a height, which has led us to watch and honor and 
 understand, from the first, his long and brilliant career. 
 
 On looking back over the two centuries and a half of 
 this our New England history, I recollect not more than 
 three or four persons who, during as many years of a life 
 protracted as his was beyond threescore and ten, have so 
 much occupied the attention of the country, — I do not 
 remember a single one, who has presented himself under 
 such various, distinct, and remarkable aspects to classes 
 of our community so separate, thus commanding a de- 
 gree of interest from each, whether scholars, theolo- 
 gians, or statesmen, which in the aggregate of its popular 
 influence has become so extraordinary. For he has been, 
 to a marvellous degree successful, in whatever he has 
 touched. His whole way of life for above fifty years 
 can now be traced back by the monuments which he 
 
MEMOUIAI. OF F.nWAUI) KVKKKTT. -11 
 
 erected with his own h-.iml as he advanced ; eaeh seem- 
 ing, at the time, to he sufheient for the repntation of one 
 man. Few here are oUl enou^di to remember whi u the 
 first of these gracefnl monnments rose l)efore ns ; none 
 of us I apprehend is so yonng, that he will survive the 
 splendor of their long line. And, now that we have 
 come to its end, and that it seems as if the wlude air 
 were tilled with our sorrowful and proud recollections, as 
 it is with the lij^ht at noonday, we feel witli renewed 
 force that we have known him as we have known very 
 few men of our time. .\nd this is true. How, then, 
 can I say anythini; that shall he worthy of memory ; 
 still less anything that is tit for record { 
 
 When he was ten or eleven years of age and 1 was 
 about three years older, his family came to live within a 
 few doors of my father's house and subsequently removed 
 to a contiguous estate. But, at this time, Mr. President, 
 when the City of Boston, I suppose, was not one fifth as 
 large as it is now, neighborhood implied kindly accjuaint- 
 ancc. I soon knew his elder brother, Alexander, then 
 the leader of his class at Cambridge, while I was a 
 student in a class one year later, at Dartmouth College. 
 1 at once conceived a strong admiration for that remark- 
 able scholar: — an admiration, let me add, whi'h has never 
 lieen dimini>lied since. The younger brotlier, of wliom 
 1 saw little, was tlien in that linmble school in Short 
 Street which he has made classical by his occasional 
 allusions to it, and to the two Websters who were his 
 teachers there. From the elder of these, wlio was fre- 
 •pic-nfly at my father's house, I used to hear mm b ationt 
 
42 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 the extraordinary talents and progress of this younger 
 Everett ; praise which my admiration of his brother jjre- 
 vented me, I fear, from receiving, for a time, with so 
 glad a welcome as I ought to have done. During the 
 two or three subsequent years, while the younger brother 
 was at Exeter or beginning his career at Cambridge, I 
 knew little of him, though I was much with the elder 
 and belonged to at least one pleasaut club of which he 
 was a member. 
 
 The first occasion on which the younger scholar's de- 
 lightful character broke upon me, with its true attributes, 
 is still fresh in mv recollection. It was in the summer of 
 1809. Mr. Alexander Everett was then about to embark 
 for St. Petersburg, as the private secretary of Mr. John 
 Quincy Adams, and a few nights before he left us, he 
 gave a supper — saddened, indeed, by the parting that was 
 so soon to follow, but still a most agreeable supper — to 
 eight or ten of his personal friends, one of whom (Dr. 
 Bigelow) I now see before me ; — the last, except myself, 
 remaining of that well remembered symposium. The 
 younger brother was there, so full of gayety — unassum- 
 ing but irrepressible — so full of whatever is attractive in 
 manner or in conversation, that I was perfectly carried 
 captive by his light and graceful humor. And this, let 
 me here say, has always been a true element of his char- 
 acter. He was never at any period of his life a saturnine 
 man. In his youth he overflowed with animal spirits ; 
 and, although from the time of his entrance into political 
 life, with the grave cares and duties that were imposed 
 upon him, the lightheartedness of his nature was some- 
 
.MKMi'l;I\I. UK ri>\VVI;li r\- I'l.l IT 43 
 
 wliiit oppressed or obscured, it was always there. 'Iliere 
 was never a time I tliink — exeepting in tliuse days of 
 trial and sorrow that come to all — in w hicli. among the 
 private iViends with whom he was most intimate, he was 
 not cheerful, nay eharmingly amusing. It was so the 
 very day before his death. He was suffering from an 
 oppression on the lungs; and, as I sat with him, he 
 could speak only in whispers ; l)ut, even then, his natural 
 playfulness was not wanting. 
 
 IJut from the time of that delightful su]i|icr in l^iOQ, 
 mv regard never failed to be fastened on him. At lirst, 
 during his undergraduate's life, at Cand)ridge, I saw liim 
 seldom. But in that simpler stage of our society, when 
 the interests of men were so different from what they 
 have become since, all who concerned themselves about 
 letters, were familiar with what was done and doing in 
 Cambridge. Everett, youthful as he was, was eminently 
 the first scholar there, and we all knew it. AVe all — or, 
 at least, all of us who were young — read the" Harvard 
 hyceum," which he edited, and which. I may almost say, 
 he filled with his scholarship and humor. 
 
 In 1811 he was graduated with the highest honors, 
 and pronounced, with extraordinary grace of manner, a 
 short oration, on — if I rightly remember — •• Tlic Diffi- 
 culties attending a Life of Letters," which delighte<l a 
 crowded audience, attracted more than was usual bv the 
 cxpectiitions that waited on what is called " Tlie first 
 part. " I5ut thus far, what was most known nf his life 
 was strictly academic, and was only more widely spread 
 than an academic reputation is wont to be because he 
 
44 MASSACHUSETTS lllSTOIUCAL SOCIETY. 
 
 was himself already so full of recognized promise and 
 jjower. His time, in fact, was not yet come. But the next 
 year it came, lie was invited to deliver the customary 
 poem at Commencement, before the " I'hi Beta Kappa 
 Society." It was not, perhaps, a period, when much 
 success could have been auticii)ated for anybody, on a 
 merely literary occ^asion. The war with England had 
 been declared only a few weeks earlier and men felt 
 gloomy and disheartened at the prospect before them. 
 Still more recently Buckminster had died, only twenty- 
 eight years old, but loved and admired, as few men ever 
 have been in this community; — mourned, too, as a loss 
 to the beginnings of true scholarship among us, which 
 many a scholar then thought might hardly be repaired. 
 But, as in all cases of a general stir in the popular feel- 
 ing, there was an excitement abroad which permitted the 
 minds of men to be turned and wielded in directions 
 widely different from that of the prevailing current. The 
 difficulty was to satisfy the demands in such a disturbed 
 condition of things. 
 
 Mr. Everett was then just in that "opening manhood" 
 which Homer, with his unerring truth, has called "the 
 fairest term of life." And how handsome he w^as, Mr. 
 President! We all know how remarkable was Milton's 
 early beauty. An engraving of him — a fine one — by 
 Vertue, from a portrait preserved in the Onslow family, 
 and painted when the poet was about twenty, is well 
 known. But, sir, so striking was the resemblance of this 
 engraving to our young friend, that I remember often 
 seeing a copy of it inscribed with his name in capital let- 
 
MKMi»UI\l. "F ! M\\ Aid) EVKKKTT. 45 
 
 tors, ami am uii:il)k' to say that the inscription was amiss. 
 Itadiant, then, with such personal attractions, he rose 
 before an audience already disposed to receive him with 
 e.vtraordinary kindness. 
 
 His subject was, " American I'octs," certainly not a 
 very promising; one. Of course his treatment of it was 
 essentially didactic ; but tliere was such a mixture of 
 good-natured satire in it, so much more praise willingly 
 accorded than was really deserved, such humorous and 
 happy allusions to what was local, personal, and familiar 
 to all, and such solemn and tender i)assagcs about the 
 condition of our society, and its anxieties and losses, — 
 that it was received with an ai)plause which, in some 
 respects, I have never known equalled. (i raver and 
 grander success I have often known to be achieved, on 
 greater occasions, not only by others but by himself. But 
 never did I witness such clear, unmingled delight, livery- 
 thing was forgotten but the speaker and what he chose 
 we should remember. 
 
 This success, it should l)e recollected, was gained when 
 Mr. Mverett was only a little more than eighteen years 
 old. IJut, sir, in fact, it had been gained earlier. 'I'he 
 poem had been read when he was only about seventeen, 
 before a club of college friends in the latter part of his 
 senior year, and had now been fitted bv a few additions, 
 for its final destination. Its pul)licati<m was immediately 
 demanded and urged I5nt on the whole it was deter- 
 mined not to give it fully to the world. Tour cnpies. 
 however, were privately struck off on large paper, one of 
 wiiidi 1 received at the time from the author, and thirt\- 
 
46 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 six more in common octavo, which were at once dis- 
 tributed to other eager friends. But this was by no means 
 enough. A little later, therefore, there were printed, 
 with slight alterations, sixty copies more, of which he 
 gave me two, in an extra form, marked with his fair 
 autograph. I know not where three others are now to 
 be found ; though I trust, from the great contemporary 
 interest in the poem itself, and from its real value, that 
 many copies of it have been saved. 
 
 It is written in the versification consecrated by the 
 success of Dryden and Pope ; and if it contains lines 
 marked by the characteristics of the early age at which it 
 was produced, there is yet a power in it, a richness of 
 thought, and a graceful finish, of which probably few men 
 at thirty would have been found capable. At any rate, in 
 the hundred and more years during which verse had then 
 been printed in these Colonies and States, not two hundred 
 pages, I think, can now be found, which can be read 
 with equal interest and pleasure. 
 
 It was only a few weeks afterwards, as nearly as I 
 recollect, that he began to preach. I heard his first two 
 sermons, delivered to a small congregation in a neighbor- 
 ing town, and I heard him often afterwards. The effect 
 was always the same. There was not only the attractive 
 manner, which we had already witnessed and admired, 
 but there was, besides, a devout tenderness, which had 
 hardly been foreseen. The main result, however, had 
 been anticipated. He was, in a few months, settled over 
 the church in Brattle Street, with the assent and admira- 
 tion of all. 
 
MKMolJIAT. OK KDWAIU) IVKKKIT. 47 
 
 But. in the midst of his success in the pulpit, he was 
 turned aside to become a controversial theologian. Karly 
 in the autumn of 1S1:3, Mr. (Jcorge B. Englisii published 
 a small book, entitled, "The (jnninds of Christianity 
 Examined by Comparing the New Testament with the 
 Old."' It was. in fact, an attack on the truth of tlie Chris- 
 tian religion, in the sense of Judaism. Its author, whom 
 I knew personally, was a young man of very pleasant 
 intercourse, and a great lover of books^ of which he had 
 read many, but witii little order or well-detined purpose. 
 He would. I tliink. have been a man of letters, if such a 
 path had been open to him. .\ profession, liowever, was 
 needful. He studied law, l)ut became dissatisfied witli it. 
 He studied divinity, but was never easy in his course. 
 His mind was never well balanced, or well settled upon 
 anything. He was always an adventurer — just as much 
 so in the scholarlike period of his life, as he was after- 
 wards, when he served under Ismail Pasha, in Egypt, and 
 attempted to revive the ancient war-chariots armed with 
 scythes. 
 
 His ill-constructed book received several answers, direct 
 and indirect, from the pidpit and the jiress ; but none of 
 them was entirely satisfactory, because tlieir authors had 
 not frequented the strange by-paths of learning in wliich 
 Mr. English had for some time been wandering with 
 perverse preference. Mr. Everett, however, followed 
 him everywhere witli a careful scholarsliip and exact 
 h)gic unknown to his presumptuous adversary. His 
 '• Defence of Christianity" was publishid in I'^l I. and I 
 still po.sscss one, out of half a dozen copies of it that were 
 
48 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 printed for the author's friends, on extra paper, and are 
 become curious as showing how ill understood, in those 
 simpler days, were the dainty luxuries of bibliography. 
 But the proper end of the book was quickly attained. 
 Mr. English's imperfect and unsound learning was demol- 
 ished at a blow ; and, as has just been so happily said by 
 Dr. Lothrop, the whole controversy, even Mr. Everett's 
 part of it, is forgotten, because it has been impossible 
 to keep up any considerable interest in a question which 
 he had so absolutely settled. Mr. Everett's " Defence," 
 however, will always remain a remarkable book. Some 
 years after its publication. Professor Monk, of Cambridge, 
 the biographer of Bentley, and himself afterwards Bishop 
 of Gloucester, told me that he did not think any Episcopal 
 library in England could be accounted complete which 
 did not possess a copy of it. 
 
 In the winter following the publication of this book — 
 that is, in the winter of 1814-15 — he was elected Pro- 
 fessor of Greek Literature. I was then at the South, 
 having made up my mind to pass some time at the Uni- 
 versity of Gottingen, and was endeavoring, chiefly among 
 the Germans in the interior of Pennsylvania, to obtain 
 information concerning the modes of teaching in Ger- 
 many, about which there then prevailed in New England 
 an absolute ignorance now hardly to be conceived. With 
 equal surprise and delight, I received letters from my 
 friend telling me of his appointment, and that, to qualify 
 himself for the place offered him, he should endeavor to 
 go with me upon what we both regarded as a sort of 
 adventure, to Germany. Perhaps I should add that this 
 
MK.MOKIAI. <il IPW \I!I) KVKlir.TT. 49 
 
 siulden tbange in his roursc of life excited no small coin- 
 inent at the time, and that, especially l>y a part of the 
 jiarish whose brilliant anticipations he thns disappointed, 
 it was not accepted in a kindly spirit. Bnt of its wisdom 
 and rightfulness there was soon no douht in the mind of 
 anybody. 
 
 We embarked in .\pril, Isl."), and passed u few weeks 
 in London, during the exciting period of Bonaparte's last 
 campaign, and just at the time of the battle of Waterloo. 
 Bnt we were in a hurry to be at work. M'e hastened, 
 therefore, through Holland, stojiping chieHy to buy books, 
 and early in August were already in the chosen place of 
 our destination. It was our pur[>ose to remain tliere a 
 year. But the facilities for >tu(l\ wore such as we liud 
 never heard or dreamt of. My own residence was in 
 consccjuencc protracted to a year and nine months, and 
 Mr. Everett's was protracted yet six months longer — 
 both of us leaving the tempting school at last sorry and 
 unsatisfied. 
 
 How well he employed his time there the great results 
 shown in his whole subsecpient life have enabled the 
 world to judge. I witnessed the process from day to day. 
 We were constantly together. Kxcei>t for the first few 
 months, when we could nut make convenient arrange- 
 ments for it, we lived in contiguous rooms in the same 
 house — the liou.se of JJouterwek, the literary histr)rian, 
 and a favorite teacher in the university. Durim; the 
 vacations — except one, when he went to the liai^iie. to 
 see his brother .Vlexauder, then our Secretary of I.e;,Mtion 
 in Holland — we travelled together about (;ermau\ ; and 
 
50 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 every clay in term time we went more or less to the same 
 private teachers, and the same lecturers. But he struck 
 in his studies much more widely than I did. To say 
 nothing of his constant, indefatigable labor upon the 
 Greek with Dissen, he occupied himself a good deal with 
 Arabic under Eichhorn, he attended lectures upon modern 
 history by Heeren, and upon the civil law by Hugo, and 
 he followed besides the courses of other professors, whose 
 teachings I did not frequent and whose names I no longer 
 remember. 
 
 His power of labor was prodigious ; unequalled in my 
 experience. One instance of it — the more striking, per- 
 haps, because disconnected from his regular studies — is, 
 I think, worth especial notice. We had been in Gottin- 
 gen, I believe, above a year, and he was desirous to send 
 home something of what he had learnt about the modes 
 of teaching, not only there but in our visits to the univer- 
 sities of Leipzig, Halle, Jena, and Berlin, and to the great 
 preparatory schools of Meissen, and Pfrote. He had, as 
 nearly as I can recollect, just begun this task. But how 
 so voluminous a matter was to be sent home was an 
 important question. Regular packets there were none, 
 even between New York and Liverpool. We depended, 
 therefore, very much on accident — altogether on tran- 
 sient vessels. Opportunities from Hamburg were rare 
 and greatly valued. Just at this time our kind mer- 
 cantile correspondents at that port gave us sudden notice 
 that a vessel for Boston would sail immediately. There 
 was not a moment to be lost ; Mr. Everett threw every- 
 thing else aside, and worked for thirty-five consecutive 
 
MEMOHIAL OF KDWAUU EVERETT. i)l 
 
 hours on his k-ttor, despatching it as the mail was closing. 
 But. though sadly exhausted hy his labor, he was really 
 uninjured, and in a day or two was fully refreshed and 
 restored. I need not say that a man who did this was in 
 earnest in what he undertouk. But let me add, Mr. 
 President, that, by the constant, daily exercise of dispo- 
 sitions and powers like these, he laid during those two or 
 three years in Ciottingen, the real foundations on which 
 his great subsequent success, in so nuiny widely different 
 ways, safely rested. I feel as sure of this as I do of any 
 fact of the sort within my knowledge. 
 
 When I left Gcittingcn, he and a young American 
 friend (Stephen II. Perkins) — tluu under his charge, and 
 who still survives — accompanied me on my lirst day's 
 journey. At Hesse CasscI we separated, thinking to 
 meet again in the south of Europe, and visit together 
 Greece and Asia Minor, which, from the time of the 
 appearance of '• Childe Harold," four or five years earlier, 
 had been much in our young thoughts and imaginations. 
 But " lorth rushed the Levant and the Ponent winds." 
 A few months afterwards, at Paris, I received the ai)poiut- 
 ment of Professor of French and Spanish Literature, at 
 Cambridge; and, fiom that moment, it was as ])lain that 
 my destination was Madrid, as it was that he was bound 
 to go to Athens and Constantinople. We did nut, there- 
 fore, meet again (uitil his return home, in the autumn of 
 \H\9, where I had preceded him by a few months. 
 
 From this time Mr. Kverett's life has been almost con- 
 stantly a public one, and all have been aide to judge hini 
 freclv and fiillv. He began lii> lectures on (ireek lilera- 
 
52 MAHHAr;niISK-TTH (llsrouiCAl, HOCIKTV. 
 
 Uwc. Hi C'iiiiil)ii(l^<: flu; iH.'Xt, Slimmer, find I wcnl frotti 
 UdHtofi rc^'iihirly (o licir tlicni, foe Ihc pleasure und 
 itiMtriietioii t.liey ^iive me. 'I'Ik' iioU-s I llien took nf tlierii, 
 and vvlileli I nlill prcHcrve, will licjir wilrie.ss U> Ihe merit 
 jllHt UHcrilird lo iIkiii hy llie I'l iiiid on iiry left, wlio heard 
 the H(im(; eoiirM(! Hoirurvvlint hitei'. 
 
 r*iil Mr. I'lvcretl was, in aiiotlier h<;iih(>, iiln^udy ii |tiililie 
 man. I'Vnni Ihe naliir;il conccin lir (ell, in Ihc (ale of a, 
 eiHuiliy he had ho recfiritly vi.siled, hi' took a. f^M'eaJ. inh^rest, 
 (IH cai'ly iiH 1H21-2;', in the fiicck Ifcvohition, and wrote; 
 tind Hpoke on it. hr)lli an a |ili ilani iiro|ii(' and as a political 
 (incHtioii. Ill \^'i\ he was elected to ('()n;j;ress. 'I'Ikk; 
 and eliiewhcrc, like olher pidilic m<'n of emiii(MiC(r, he has 
 had his political ti'ials and his political opponents; some- 
 times ^eiieroiiH, sometimes unworthy, Iml, ne\cr tonch- 
 in" till' nnspoltcd |tniily oC his clinraeter and purposes. 
 All Hiieli diHeuHHioiiH, liowc'Ver, lind no hecomin;^; place; 
 wilhin (lic,c doors. W'e rec();^ni/c here no snch divisions 
 (if opinion i<'speclin[^ onr laminlcd associaU'. We rcmem- 
 her lllH great, talents, and tlii' jnaitleiiess that added to 
 their power; his c.xtraoi'dinary scliolarshi|), and the rich 
 Irnits it hore ; iiis manifold piddic Mervi(:(;H, and the jnst 
 honors tiiat have lollowed them. .All this we rememher. 
 In all of it wc rejoice. W'e recollect, too, tiiat for five-and- 
 lorly NcaiM, he has heen onr pride and ornament, as a 
 memher of liiis Society. Hut we r<'co;^ni/.e no extermd 
 distnrhinj^' element in these onr happy reeolleclions. 'I'o 
 ns, he has always heen the same. At an\ meetin;^ liiiit 
 \yt' liave iirld i.inee lie liecaine fnlU' known to ns ;nid to 
 Ihe (onnliy, the l)eantif'nl, appropriate, and (rnthl'nl reso- 
 
MEMOUIAL OF EDWAUl) KVKRETT. 53 
 
 lutions now on your tabic, might — if ho had just been 
 taken from us as he has been now — have been passed by 
 us with as raucli earnestness and unanimity, :ls tliey will 
 be amidst our sorrow to-night. They do but fitly complete 
 our record of what has always been true. And let us feel 
 thankful, as we adopt this record and make it our own, 
 that — grand and gratifying as it is — neither the ne.\t 
 generation nor any that may follow will desire to have a 
 word of it obliterated or altered. 
 
 Hull. Juliii II. Clitl'ord tlien pnjcccdcd as follows : — 
 
 >[r. Pkesident: Having been unable to participate in 
 the last offices of respect to the remains of our departed 
 associate, and feeling obliged to decline the distinguished 
 senice to which I was invited, of pronouncing a more 
 elaborate address upon his life and character before the 
 two Houses of the Legislature, I could not forego the 
 opportunity of uniting in this office of commemoration, with 
 an Association in which he took so generous an interest, 
 and of which he was so eminent a member. 
 
 However inadequate must be any expression of niv 
 sense of the loss we have sustained, I cannot doubt that 
 the assurance of a simple, heartfelt tribute of personal 
 affection and gratitude, when he was to be remembered 
 in a circle like this, would have been more grateful to him 
 than any studied words of eulogy, though they were pol- 
 ished into a rhetoric as brilliant as his own. 
 
 It is thus only, that I desire to speak of him — my hon- 
 ored (hief, my wise and trusted counsellor — my ever 
 constant friend. It was from his hands that I received, 
 
54 MASSACHUSETTS UlSTOKICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 now just thirty years ago, my first commission in the 
 service of the State ; and from that period up to tlie 
 close of the last month of the last year, he honored 
 me with a correspondence which I have carefully pre- 
 served as a precious possession for myself and for my 
 children. You will pardon me, Mr. President, if, in 
 this brief review of what I owe to the influence of his 
 friendship and his counsels, I shall invoke his presence, 
 still to speak to us, by a free and unreserved reference 
 to this correspondence. 
 
 Admitted to the intimate intercourse of a member of his 
 military family, during the entire term of his service as 
 Governor of the Commonwealth, he never afterwards 
 ceased to manifest the interest in me which that inter- 
 course implied, and the value of which no poor words 
 of mine, of public or of private acknowledgment can 
 ever measure or repay. Of that military family, Mr. 
 President, — and " we were seven," — who bore his com- 
 mission during those four years of brilliant service to his 
 native Commonwealth, you and I are the only survivors, 
 to render these last honors to our illustrious chief. 
 
 In the review of his remarkable career, to which, 
 since its triumphant close on earth, the minds of so 
 many have been turned who never knew him otherwise 
 than in his public character, I am persuaded that some 
 impressions respecting him, Avhich those who were 
 . brought nearest to him know to be utterly unfounded, 
 are certain to be corrected when the materials of a just 
 judgment of all that he was, and all that he did, are 
 open to the examination of his countrymen. 
 
MEMORIAL OF EDWARD EVEREIT. 55 
 
 It has been said of him that he was of a cold and 
 unsyinpathizing natuio. There never was a more mis- 
 taken judgment of any public man than this. If 
 he possessed any trait more distinctly marked than 
 another, it was his unfaltering fidelity to his friends, 
 and his warm and generous interest in everything that 
 touched their happiness and welfare, as well in the 
 trials and the sorrows, as in the successes and the sun- 
 shine of life. 
 
 While he was representing the country with such 
 signal ability at the Court of St. James, and in the 
 midst of the grave and perplexing questions which he 
 there discussed and disposed of with such masterly 
 skill, I had occasion to communicate to him the death 
 of a much loved child, in whom he had taken great 
 interest, and who bore his name. In a letter written 
 on the receipt of the intelligence, and under circum- 
 stances that might well have excused him from an 
 immediate reply, — and which would have excused him, 
 if that reply had been prompted by anything less than 
 a sincere and unaffected sympathy, wliicli does not 
 belonj' to a cold and formal nature, — he says : " I was 
 staying at Sir Ri)l)ert IVel's, with a very agreeable 
 party, consisting of several of the cabinet ministers, and 
 my diplomatic brethren, when I received your letter, 
 wliidi has cast a shade of sadness over my visit that 
 I feel as little inclination as ability to throw off. 
 . . . But let tis not speak of our beloved ones as 
 taken from us. 'I'liey are, in truth, not lost, but gone 
 lnfore. They have accomplished, in the dawn of hie 
 
56 MASSACHUSETTS mSTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 the work wliicli grows harder, the longer the time that 
 is given us to do it." 
 
 Equally erroneous, in my judgment, is the opinion that 
 Mr. Everett, as a xiublic man, was lacking in moral 
 courage. There were occasions in his life when it would 
 have required less courage, and have cost a smaller sacri- 
 fice to escape this imputation, and secure to himself the 
 popular favor, than it did to invite it. But his resolute 
 adherence to his own conscientious convictions, his large 
 and comprehensive patriotism, his unswerving nationality 
 and love of the Union, and the knowledge which a schol- 
 ar's studies and a statesman's observations had given him 
 of the perils by which that Union was environed, closed 
 many an avenue of popularity to him, which bolder, but 
 not more courageous, public men than he could consent 
 to walk in. 
 
 If timidity consists in an absence of all temerity and 
 rashness, of entire freedom from that reckless spirit which 
 fjo often leads " fools to rush in where angels fear to 
 tread," let it be ever remembered to his honor, that Mr. 
 Everett was a timid statesman. But if the virtue of 
 moderation is still to be counted among the excellent 
 qualities of a ruler or counsellor, in conducting the com- 
 plex and delicate questions of policy which affect the 
 Avell-being of a country like ours, and which bear upon its 
 future fortunes as well as its present favor, let it also be 
 remembered that our departed statesman, while he ad- 
 hered inflexibly to his convictions of the right, was not 
 " ashamed to let his moderation be known unto all men." 
 In this aspect of his character, it has seemed to me that 
 
MKMOrjAL OK F.nWAItD KVKKKTT. 57 
 
 the great Pater Patrice, wliom he had so dihgcntly studied, 
 and his oration nj»ou whom wrought as great a work 
 npon his countrymen as liis unsurpassed hiographical 
 sketch of him in tlie " Encyclopa'dia IJritannica" lias had 
 upon the foreign estimate of Washington, was " liis great 
 example, as he was his theme." 
 
 It has heen not an luifrequent criticism upon Mr. I-lver- 
 ett's career, that it was in a certain sense a failure, 
 because, with his scholarly tastes, his patient industry, liis 
 atHuent learning and his great opportunities, he would 
 leave behind him no " great work" as the fruit of all his 
 accomplishments and ])owers. If it be a worthy ainl)ition 
 in one of great endowments and liberal culture, to do the 
 greatest good to the greatest number of his fellow-men, 
 and to make the world better for his having lived in it, 
 this is a mistaken criticism. It is true his resources were 
 ample to have accomplished any " great work," such as this 
 criticism implies, in any of the fields of intellectual activ- 
 ity, from which great scholars gather their ripened har- 
 vests. He could have graced the shelves of our libraries 
 with precious octavos of history, or science, or literature. 
 Ihit to have done this he would have foregone that 
 " greater work " which he did accomi)lish, and of which 
 the three volumes already jmblished, to be followed we 
 trust by many more, will stand forever as the witii(\ss and 
 the memorial — " ^Vc;;j omnia jiossumus onines." And ho 
 appointed to himself the nobler task of elevating tlie \nih- 
 lic taste, — of bringing before a working people the hifjli- 
 est truths of philosophy in a style of adaptation to thiir 
 wnnt.s before unknown — of ditiusin;; tiirougliout the com- 
 
58 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 munity a knowledge of great historical events and their 
 application to the duties of living men, — of implanting in 
 the breasts of the people a reverence for their God-fearing 
 ancestors, and in justifying the ways of Providence to 
 them and their posterity, — of displaying before them the 
 brightest deeds and the most heroic sacrifices of patriot- 
 ism, and thereby inspiring in them the warmest love of 
 their country, and instructing them in the duties they 
 owed to her, — all these, and more, of the glorious proofs 
 that his life was a noble success and in no sense a failure, 
 glow in every page of his writings, not one of which in 
 dying would he need to blot, from that first lecture 
 before the Mechanics' Institute in Charlestown, down to 
 that last fervid. Christian appeal in Faneuil Hall. 
 
 Mr. President, I speak in the faith of the clearest con- 
 viction, that whatever of unjust, or censorious, or honestly 
 mistaken judgment, has ever been passed upon our de- 
 parted friend, will be surely modified, if not entirely 
 reversed, in all candid minds, under the lights with which 
 a true and complete history of his life will illuminate it, 
 from its earliest promise to its latest most glorious record. 
 Already one of his contemporaries, who has made his 
 own name " imperishable in immortal song," in words of 
 manly confession, as honorable to their author as they are 
 just to the memory of him of whom they were spoken, 
 has anticipated the verdict of history. 
 
 " If," says Mr. Bryant, " I have uttered anything in 
 derogation of Mr. Everett's public character at times when 
 it seemed to me that he did not resist with becoming 
 spirit the aggressions of wrong, I now, looking back upon 
 
MEMOUIAL OF EDWAUD EVEHETT. 59 
 
 his noble locoicl of the hist four years, retract it at his 
 "rave, — I hiv upon his hearse tlie dechiratioii of inv 
 sorrow that I saw uot tlien the cleptli of liis worth. — tliat 
 I did not discern under the conservatism that formed a 
 part of his nature, that generous courage whicli a great 
 emergency couUl so nobly awaken." 
 
 But the praises of men were now of little wortli. had 
 we uot one source of pride and affection open to us in tlie 
 contemplation of this beneficent life, the value of which 
 no words of eulogy, apt as they are to run into exaggera- 
 tion, can express too strongly. The manifold temptations 
 of public life, whether insinuating themselves tlimugli 
 our domestic politics, or the social and political ethics of 
 the national capitol, in the arts of diplomacy or through 
 the enervating allurements of foreign courts, which in 
 some of their Protean forms are so apt to assail the home- 
 taught virtue of our public meu, never left a trace of their 
 influence upon the purity of his unsullied character. To 
 those who had the closest view of him, there was always 
 ajjparent his constant rccognitiou of the presence and 
 direction of a Higher Power in all the concerns of life. 
 Abundant illustrations of this, indeed. nia\ be found in his 
 pul)lished works. Who that has read it, who especially 
 that had )our privilege and mine, Mr. President, of listen- 
 ing to it as it fell from his lij)s, (an have forgotten that 
 magnificent passage, in my judgment the most elorpient 
 he ever uttered, in his speech at the centennial celei)ration 
 at Banistablc in 1839? — a passage which the late Chief 
 Justice Shaw, who was present, declared to me was, in his 
 opinion, unsurpassed in modem history. 
 
60 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. . 
 
 After describing the condition of " the Mayflower 
 freighted with the destinies of a continent, as she crept 
 almost sinking into Provincetown harbor, utterly inca- 
 pable of living through another gale, approaching the 
 shore precisely where the broad sweep of this remarkable 
 headland presents almost the only point at which for 
 hundreds of miles she could with any ease have made a 
 harbor," he adds : " I feel my spirit raised above the 
 sphere of mere natural agencies. I see the mountains of 
 New England rising from their rocky thrones. They rush 
 forward into the ocean, settling down as they advance ; 
 and there they range themselves, a mighty bulwark 
 around the heaven-directed vessel. Yes, the everlasting 
 God himself stretches out the arm of his mercy and his 
 power in substantial manifestations, and gathers the meek 
 company of his worshippers as in the hollow of his 
 hand." 
 
 But a more striking, because a more spontaneous 
 expression of the same characteristic spirit, is contained 
 in a letter of farewell which I received from him, dated at 
 New York on the day before his embarkation for Europe 
 with his whole family in the summer of 1840, and of 
 course written amidst all the distractions incident to the 
 preparations for his voyage. 
 
 The intelligence of the burning of the packet ship 
 Poland at sea, and the rescue of her passengers from 
 imminent peril by a passing vessel, had then just been 
 received in this country. " The fate of the Poland," he 
 writes, " makes me feel strongly how near to death we 
 ar3 in the midst of life. I embark with all my treasures 
 
MEMORIAL OK KDWAKD KVEKKTT. 61 
 
 with sonic misgivings. 15iit having nndcrtakpii the voyage 
 from j)roi)er motives, I seem to be in the j)atli of dnty, 
 ami I am sure I am in the Iianil of God. Tliere are many 
 paths to his presence. And wlietlier they lead us singly, 
 or in families, or companies, — whether liv a Ited of lan- 
 guishing on land, or the blazing deck of a burning vessrl, 
 or the dark abyss of the sea, can be of l)ut little conse- 
 quence in the existence of an undying spirit. 
 
 'When his own hour had come, Mr. President, it was 
 through no such avenue of suspense and sufferings as 
 these that his Heavenly Father took him to himself. But 
 in welcoming him, as our faith assures us, to the rewards 
 of a " good and faithful servant." He bore liiiii from our 
 sight so graciously as to leave us nothing to regret from 
 him, either in his death or in his life, ^^'hy should we 
 mourn over such a death, — the serene close of such a life 
 on earth, the entranrn u]ion the .Ksnrpd rcwnrd-; of the 
 Life Eternal ? 
 
 •' If ever lot was prosperously cast, 
 If ever life was like the Icugthcncd flow 
 Of some sweet music, cwcctncss to the last, 
 'T was his." .... 
 
 Not the music of that matchless voice alone, whose 
 inspiring cadences seem still to linger in our ears, as we 
 assenjble in this room, where it so often charmed and 
 instructed us, but the diviner harmony to which he gave 
 such magnificent expression bv a rounded and completed 
 liie, — a life that was mercifully s]>areil to liis coinitry for 
 its greatest work during its dosing years ; whose music, 
 
62 MASSACHUSETTS HISTOIUCAL SOCIETY. 
 
 during those years of a nations regeneration, was but a 
 prolongation of the music of the Union, by which he 
 marched, himself, and inspired his countrymen to march, 
 to the great conflict with treason and with wrong. 
 
 Here, and wherever throughout the world, in all 
 coming time, the gospel of constitutional liberty is 
 preached among men, shall this, his last, greatest work, 
 •' be told as a memorial of him." One word more, Mr. 
 President, and my grateful task is done. 
 
 In the correspondence from which I have so freely 
 quoted, I found, a day or two ago, a striking passage, 
 which seems to me a fitting close for this feeble tribute to 
 the memory of a loved and honored friend. In a letter 
 written to me from Washington early in 1854, the year 
 that he resigned his place in the Senate of the United 
 States, he says : "I have never filled an ofiice which I did 
 not quit more cheerfully than I entered. I am not sure 
 that it is not so in most cases with the last great act of 
 retirement, not from the offices and duties of life, but 
 from life itself." 
 
 Brethren, to what far-off sphere of celestial fruition 
 may we not, without presumption, in that spirit of faith 
 which he so strongly cherished, follow ovir departed 
 associate, and hear again the music of that voice, repeat- 
 ing this sentiment, now verified and made certain in the 
 supreme experience of that last Sabbath morning? 
 
 Dr. Walker spoke as follows : — 
 
 Mr. President: Leaving it for others to speak of Mr. 
 Everett's eminence as a scholar and as a statesman, and 
 
MEMOKIAI. OF EHWARD F.VEnETT. 63 
 
 of the purity and beauty of his daily Hfe, I ask |iermis- 
 sion to sav a few words of his admiuistration as President 
 of Harvard CoUege. There is, I believe, a jjrevailing 
 impression in the community, that this part of liis jjublic 
 career was less successful than the rest. If so, it is 
 to be imputed, in no small measure, to three causes 
 which have hindered his merits and services as Head 
 of the University from being duly appreciated. 
 
 The first of these causes was his known distaste for the 
 office. Most of us remember, that when he was api)ointed 
 to the place, the community were of one mind as to his 
 being precisely the man to fill it, — with a single excep- 
 tion ; but tliat was an important exception, for it was 
 himsi'If. Tliis distaste was never entirely overcome ; and 
 there arc those who have construed it into evidence of 
 want of success. They might have done so with some 
 show of reason, if it had grown up in the office ; for, in 
 that case, it might be regarded as resulting, at least in 
 some degree, from disappointed hopes. But when it is 
 considered that the distaste was as strong, and perhaps 
 stronger, when he accepted the office, than when he laid 
 it down, there would seem to be no ground for such a 
 construction. 
 
 The second cause which has hindered the pul)lic from 
 didv appreciating Mr. Everett's services to the College as 
 I'resident, is found in the nature of the reforms and 
 improvements attempted and actually introduced by him. 
 With his accustomed method and thoroughness, he could 
 not do otherwise than begin at the beginning. Accord- 
 ingly, one of his first un<lertakings was to prepare and 
 
64 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 publish, under the proper authorities, a careful revision 
 of the college laws. This was a most important and 
 necessary work, which cost months of anxious labor ; yet 
 not likely to attract public attention, nor even to be known 
 beyond the precincts of the University. Again, he be- 
 lieved that all improvements in the college, to be of much 
 solidity, must have their foundation in its improA'ed moral 
 and religious condition. No president ever labored more 
 assiduously or more anxiously for this end, nor, consider- 
 ing the time occupied, with more success. Indeed, I 
 cannot help thinking that it is for the measures he insti- 
 tuted or suggested with a view to promote the moral 
 elevation of the college, that its friends have most reason 
 to hold him in grateful remembrance. Yet these also 
 were matters which, from their very nature, did not admit 
 of display, and some of them not even of publicity ; nay 
 more, in the beginning they were not unlikely to occasion 
 some degree of opposition and trouble. 
 
 But the principal cause hindering a due appreciation of 
 Mr. Everett's presidency of the college, brief as it was, is 
 doubtless this very brevity. If his health had permitted 
 him to retain the office ten years, I have no doubt that 
 many things which were offensive to him would have 
 disappeared. His attention, meanwhile, would have been 
 turned to proper academical reforms, noticeable in them- 
 selves, and bringing the college into notice by extending 
 its influence and fame. And this, together w'ith the just 
 pride taken in his distinguished name, and the unsur- 
 passed dignity with which he represented the University 
 on all public occasions, would have made his administra- 
 
JlKMdKIAL OF EDWAKl) EVKKKTT. G5 
 
 tion forever illustrious iu the annals of the college ; anil 
 even, within its limited scope, as illustrious for him as any 
 other part of his public career. Nor is this all. It wouhl 
 then have been seen that the first four years, those \vlii( h 
 ■Nve really had, were an ajipropriate and necessary intro- 
 duction to the whole: and as such, t/iri/ would have come 
 in for their full share <>f thr Ldoiy. 
 
 l)r. II. 'lines read the following Poem: — 
 
 OIR FIRST CITIZEN. 
 
 Wixtkk's cold drift lies gii.steiiinj^ oVr liia Ijrea^-t ; 
 
 For liini no !<|iring >liall bid tlie loaf iinfolil ; 
 Wliat Love could speak, by sudden grief oppressed, 
 
 Wliat swiftly summoned Memory tell, is told. 
 
 Even as the bells, in one consenting eliime. 
 Filled with tlicir sweet vibrations all the air. 
 
 Ho joined all voices, in that mournfid time. 
 Ilia genius, wisdom, virtues, to declare. 
 
 What place is left for words of measured praise, 
 Till calm-eyed History, with her iron pen, 
 
 tJroovcd in the unchanging rock the final phrase 
 That shapes his image in the souls uf men ? 
 
 Yet wliilc the cch«X!8 still repent his name. 
 
 While countless tongues his full-orbed life rehearse. 
 
 Love, by his beating pulses Uiiight, will claim 
 
 The breath of song, the tuneful throb of vtr.-i-, — 
 
66 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 V^erse that, in ever-changing ebb and flow, 
 
 Moves, like tlie hiboring heart, with riisii and rest, 
 
 Or swings in solemn cadence, sad and slow, 
 Like the tired heaving of a grief-worn breast. 
 
 This was a mind so rounded, so complete, — 
 No partial gift of Nature in excess, — 
 
 That, like a single stream where many meet. 
 Each separate talent counted something less. 
 
 A little hillock, if it lonely stand, 
 
 Holds o'er the fields an undisputed reign, 
 
 While the broad summit of the table-land 
 Seems with its belt of clouds a level plain. 
 
 Servant of all his powers, that faithful slave. 
 Unsleeping ]Memory, strengthening with his toils. 
 
 To every ruder task his shoulder gave. 
 And loaded every day with golden spoils. 
 
 Order, the law of Heaven, was throned supreme 
 O'er action, instinct, impulse, feeling, thought ; 
 
 True as the dial's shadow to the beam. 
 
 Each hour was equal to the charge it brought. 
 
 Too large his compass for the nicer skill 
 
 That weiglis the world of science grain by grain ; 
 
 All realms of knowledge owned the mastering will 
 That claimed the franchise of his whole domain. 
 
 Earth, air, sea, sky, the elemental fire, 
 
 Art, history, song, — what meanings lie in each 
 
 Found in his cunning hand a stringless lyre. 
 
 And poured their mingling music through his speech. 
 
MEMOKIAL OF KDWAUD KVEliKTT. (17 
 
 Tlicnce Howeil tliose autlieiiis of our IVstal days, 
 
 AVliosL" ravisliing division laid apart 
 Tlie li[i,s of listening throngs in suttt amaze, 
 
 Moved in all hroa-^ts tiie self-same linnian heart. 
 
 SuUhied his accents, ns of one who tries 
 
 To press some care, some haunting sadness <lu« n ; 
 
 His smile half shadow ; and to stranger eves 
 The kin;;lv forehead wore an iron erown. 
 
 lie was not armed to wrestle with the storm. 
 To fight for homely truth with vulgar power; 
 
 (inice looked from every feature, shaped his form, — 
 The rose of Academe, — the perfect Hower ! 
 
 Such was the stately scholar whom wc knew 
 
 In those ill days of soul-enslaving calm, 
 IJefore the blast of Northern vengeance blew 
 
 Her snow-wreathed i)ine against the Southern palm. 
 
 Ah, God forgive us ! did wc hold too cheap 
 
 The heart we might have known, hut would nut .-ee. 
 
 And look to find the nation's friend a.sleep 
 Though the dread hour of her Gethsemane? 
 
 That wrong is past; we gave him u[> to l)eatli 
 AVith all a hero's lu)nors round his name ; 
 
 As martyrs coin their lilood, he coined his breath. 
 And dimmcil the scholar's in the patriot's lame. 
 
 So shall wc blazon on the sii.itt "c i;ii-i-, — 
 
 Telling our grief, our j>r!de, to unborn years, — 
 
 " He who Imd lived the mark of all men's praise 
 I)ied with the tribute of a nation's f<'ars." 
 
68 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 The Hon. Richard H. Dana tlien spoke as follows : — 
 
 Mr. President : This full tide of grief and admiration 
 has carried along with it all there is of eulogy, and there 
 seems nothing left for me to-night — not wishing to say 
 over what has been so well said — but a single, common- 
 place suggestion, exciting no feeling, and entirely below 
 the demands of the hour. I would simply remind you, 
 brethren, that the fame of Mr. Everett has been fairly 
 earned. 
 
 It seems to me that he has earned his fame as fairly as 
 the painter, the poet, the sculptor, and the composer earn 
 theirs. The artist submits his picture or statue, the 
 composer his oratorio, and the poet his epic or lyric to 
 the judgment of time, and abides the result. Mr. 
 Everett, for fifty years, year by year, submitted to the 
 judgment of his age orations, essays, lectures, speeches, 
 and diplomatic letters, and abided the result. If the 
 judgment has been favorable to him, what can have been 
 more fairly earned 1 
 
 It has not only been earned without fraud on the public 
 judgment, or mistake or accident, but it has been earned 
 in strict compliance with the primeval law of labor — that 
 in the sweat of the brow all bread shall be eaten. It has 
 not been the result of a few happy strokes of genius. He 
 never did anything except with all the might his mind 
 and body could lend to it. He was first scholar at Har- 
 vard, because four years of competition left him so. If 
 he was in anything more learned than other men, it was 
 because he did his best with great natural powers. No 
 
MEMOKIAI. UK KDWAliD EVKliKri. 69 
 
 occasions occurrotl t(i hitii that may not occur to all. 
 What other men nuick' little of, ho made evcrythiug of. 
 lie never trusted to genius or to chance. lie owes as 
 little, too, as any man, to the posts he has tilled. Many 
 derive importance from holding offices that connect 
 them with great events. He stands upon his work, irre- 
 spective of office ; and, indeed, his best and brightest acts 
 have been those of a private citizen. Yes, brethren, 
 every stone in the monument he has builded to himself 
 has been quarried, fashioned, and polished by his own 
 hand and eye. 
 
 Fairly earned, his fame is also firmly fixed. His style 
 of thought and expression in written address has been 
 tried by the tests of novelty and of familiarity, of same- 
 ness and of variety, in old communities and in new 
 communities ; and that style which forty years before, 
 in its freshness, charmed the choice spirits of a critical 
 community of readers and scholars, was found iii its 
 maturity, nay, almost in its age, equal to the coufiict 
 with the trained diplomatists of Europe, before the forum 
 of nations. 
 
 So of his elocution. An orator mav, bv accidental 
 charm of voice or manner, or by tricks of speech, gain 
 celebrity for a time ; but the crucial test comes, and he is 
 found wanting, or he palls and stales by mere custom. 
 IJut Mr. Everett's style of speech has l)een tried by 
 every test, applied to every variety of topic, in difi'ereut 
 countries, and has survived tlif clianges and chances of 
 ta.ste and opinion, as potent with the sons and daughters 
 a-i with their fathers and mothers. \l threescore and 
 
70 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 ten the spell of his elocution was as effective as in the 
 freshness of his youth or the vigor of his manhood. The 
 eloquence which forty and fifty years ago tilled Brattle 
 Street Church to the window-tops, which, in its new-born 
 beauty, charmed the select assemblages at Cambridge, Con- 
 cord, and Plymouth, was found in its gray and bent age, 
 equal — more equal than any other — to the exigencies 
 and shocks of the most vast and momentous popular 
 canvass the world ever knew. 
 
 The Hon. B. F. Thomas spoke as follows : — 
 
 Mr. President: If I had consulted my own judgment 
 only, it would have been to listen to the gentlemen around 
 me, the early, the life-long companions of the illustrious 
 dead. I may not claim to have been of Mr. Everett's 
 intimate friends. Though I have met him occasionally 
 in private life, my means of knowledge are, after all, 
 those of a reader and hearer of his public discourse. 
 Nor have I, during a portion of his public life, been 
 drawn to him by ties of political affinity and sympathy. 
 Possibly, following the courtesies of parliamentary assem- 
 blies, these considerations may have led to the request 
 that I should say a word this evening. 
 
 If the object of these services of commemoration were 
 indiscriminate eulogy, the custom were more honored in 
 the breach than in the observance ; such service being 
 good neither for the dead nor the living. If we had no 
 higher or nobler purpose, we might well turn to the 
 pressing duties of life and of the hour, and let the dead 
 bury their dead. 
 
MKMOUIAI. OF EDWAUU EVEUETT. 71 
 
 But if we believe the siiying of an old historian, cited 
 by Bolingbroke, that history is pliilosophy teaching by 
 examples ; if, rejecting tlie godless speculations of Buckle, 
 we recognize in history the power and influence of the 
 individual spirit; if we see in tlic lives of great and good 
 men not only beacon lights on the line of human progress, 
 but the most efficient of motive powers, the causce caua- 
 antes; that great and good men not only make history, but 
 constitute history, and the best part of history ; no work 
 can be more appropriate to an historical society tliau the 
 commemoration of such a life. 
 
 As von well observed. Mr. President, tlie other day in 
 Faneuil Hall, in a speech, let me say, so worthy of its 
 theme, one knows hardly where to begin or wliere 
 to end. If we liad but one word to say, it would Ije per- 
 haps that Mr. Everett was the most accuinplished man 
 our country had produced ; of the widest, most varied and 
 finished culture. That using the word " orator," in tin- 
 sense in which it has come to us from classic times, he was 
 our most finished " orator," in fertility of resources, in apt- 
 ness of use in grace of manner, in compass and music of 
 voice, in curious felicity of diction, seldom if ever surpassed. 
 Not always evincing magnetic power or projectile force, 
 or the ars artium cehirr artem ; but in his best and ha])piest 
 moods recalling the lines in wliich Milton, with such 
 marvellous beauty, has described .\dam, wrai»t, entranced 
 with the liist accents that fill fnun tin- lips df ]{:i|)li:i(] : — 
 
 "The angel ended; but lu .VJnm'.- car 
 So chaimiug left liin vuioc that he awhile 
 Thought him Rlill xpraking — Htill stood fixed to hear." 
 
72 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 Though it was as a graceful and eloquent orator that 
 Mr. Everett was most widely known to his day and gener- 
 ation, we feel that in saying this we have not got very near 
 to our subject ; that we have not touched upon the lines of 
 character which make the life of a great or good man the 
 worthy subject of study and contemplation. 
 
 Outside of revelation, Mr. President, men make their 
 own gods. They project them from within. They clothe 
 them with their own passions, they dwarf them by their 
 own infirmities. So it is in the construction of our lieroes 
 and great men. We not only admire chiefly the qualities 
 in which we discover some resemblance to our own ; but 
 we are very apt to dwell on them as the salient points of 
 character. We insist upon casting men into the moulds 
 of our own minds. This may be natural, but it is neither 
 manly nor just. That only is a manly and catholic criti- 
 cism which appreciates and admires qualities utterly 
 diverse from our own ; which recollects that our antipodes 
 stand also on the solid earth ; that there may be diversities 
 of gifts but the same spirit, diff"erences of administration 
 but the same Lord ; that the eye cannot say to the hand, 
 I have no need of thee, nor the head to the feet, I have 
 no need of you ; that this diversity of gifts and tendencies 
 is part of God's economy for the well-being and progress 
 of the race. 
 
 It is by the conflict and balance of forces that the plan- 
 ets know their places and " each in his motion like an 
 angel sings." A like conflict and balance of forces is the 
 law of human life and progress. In the shallow philoso- 
 phy of Pope, there is not a shallower commonplace, than 
 
MEMOHIAL (1F KDW'ARD EVEKETT. 73 
 
 "Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined." You may 
 twist and distort the growth of the tree, you may jjrune 
 it into fantastic shapes, but the tree as God meant it to be 
 lies wrapt in the germ, before the warm embrace of earth 
 sends it up to greet the sun. The natural ditterences of 
 men overcome and outgrow all culture and discipline. 
 These two sons of the same parents, bred at the same 
 fireside, trained in the same schools, surrounded by the 
 same influences, ripened into manhood, tlu> one shall be- 
 come in politics a radical, the other a conservative. In re- 
 ligion one shall be the most protesting of protestant-^, tlie 
 other repose with a child's trust on the bosom of the church. 
 
 In all free governments political parties are formed, 
 and though they spring up sometimes for local and 
 temporary purposes, yet as a general fact and in their 
 last analysis, they will be found to be radical and con- 
 servative, the one having progress as its constant aim, 
 the other dwelling upon the limitations of progress. 
 
 In the best sense of the word Mr. Everett was a con- 
 servative. Xo man more thoroughly understood or more 
 fully appreciated the free institutions which the toils and 
 sacrifices of good and wise and true men of twenty gen- 
 erations had secured to us. He had faith that whatever 
 of error and imperfection was to be found in the work 
 of the fathers would be removed by jjcaceful methods, 
 bv the progress of science, and art, and Christian cul- 
 ture and civili/ation. With his conservatism was found 
 a broad, liberal, and catholic spirit. I'nd in the extreme 
 school of Protestantism, he did not understand by liln-ral 
 Christianity the negation of things divine, the Iniwiug of 
 
74 MASSACIlllSK'I'l'S llISroUK.'AI, SOCIKTV. 
 
 rclif^ioii out of llir (■ii('lc of llic Iniinin iiiiiid. He did 
 not cxcIihIc IVoiii his idc.i, oC mcnlnl lihcily llic " lihcrly 
 (if olicdiciicc ;" llic lilx'ily with wliicli (!|iii.s(, niiikcs men 
 (Vcc. 
 
 IWcil ill III'' scIiodI oI' llic i'liiitiiiis, illiiMt.nitiiij^- llicir 
 virtucN, iidiiiiriii^- (heir siiMiinc dcvolioii lo duty, lu; could 
 iiol li;i\i' loved I'liiiliiiiisiii llic less l)ec;iiisc il, wiiH usso- 
 ciiilcd wilii llic vciieiuMc piisl, liecaiisc (iriic hiid sodciicd 
 ;nid hiilluwcd ils iii(U-e nif^i^nd featuroH, hccjuisc distmico 
 Iciil ciiehanliiiciiL lo Ihe view. 
 
 I'lred ill ;i school of |)olilics, wliicli, l.hoii^h of (he lii^li- 
 cs(, iut(';j;ri(-y, liiid s(,r(jii^ Hec(ioii;d (cndeiicics, lie wiis 
 lunou}^ (Ik' iiiDst niitioiiiil of our Mtiitcsincu. No piirt, of 
 (he laml was sluit oul, (Voiii his symjiathy and ret;ard. 
 His jialiiolisiii covered tiic country, however hounded. 
 No \\ord dro|)|)ed Ironi his lips or pen to |)roiiiol(^ sec- 
 tional hale or strife. His |iuldic lifo wiis ii ministry of 
 concord and peace. He niiderslood the coni|ii'oniis(>s oi 
 the ( !ousli(u(ioii, and was ready I'ailhfully (<) altide hy 
 Iheiii. He appreciated and admired this marvellous frame 
 of }j;ovcrnmciit, hy which, for Ihe lirsl, time in history, 
 central power was reconciled with local iiulcpcndeuco, the 
 immiinilies of free States with Ihe ciipiicitics of ii {jfroiit 
 empire. I'roin tlu^ lirst to llu; last, throiij^h evil report 
 and lliidii^h f;dod report, he cluuf^ to the Union of iJicsi! 
 Stiilds and lo lli(" ( 'oustituLioiMis its only bond. No man 
 labored iikuc eainestly and devotedly to iivcrt the coming 
 strife. His dread of civil conllict seemed to wciir ;it times 
 ulmost tli(> aspect of limidily. I>ut if he felt more strongly 
 it was because he loresaw more clearly. 
 
MKMOKIAI, OK KDWAHl) KVKKKIT. ( O 
 
 No greater injustice can lie done to Mr. I.verett, tliaii 
 1)V tlie siigsicstion that in the la^t three or four years <if 
 his life liis opinions had undergone a radical change, and 
 that the services of the [last three years were a sort of 
 propitiation and atonement for those that had gone hefore. 
 Some of the views of pnhlic j)olicy developed by Mr. 
 P>verett within the last two years did not command my 
 assent. That was e(iually true with some of his earlier 
 opinions. But I can see no necessary conHict between 
 Mr. Everett the conservative statesman, the lifelong de- 
 fender of the Union and the Constitution, and Mr. Jlverctt 
 the ardent su])portcr of a war to secure from destruction 
 that Union and Constitution. Difference of judgment as 
 to what might be effected by force of arms might l»e the 
 result of changes in the condition of the country, in the 
 unity of sentiment and action in the loyal States. What 
 seemed to him impossible in l>^f)l, might, from the success 
 of our arms, seem feasible in 18G4. So measures that he 
 deemed to be impolitic at the first period might seem to 
 him to be demanded by the necessities of the second. 
 Those differences marked no radical cliange of principles; 
 and one, ^^ho differed from him on some few (piestions of 
 policy while adhering to his general views, may be 
 pardoned a word to save him fVotn the too great kindness 
 of his later friends. 
 
 Honor, as the heart shall prompt, his lal>r)rs to uphold 
 the arm of government against secession, to give unity to 
 its counsels and efforts, to bring all men to its standard. 
 We may honor none the less a life given to what his 
 nephew and my friend has fitly called llie ministry of 
 
76 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 conciliatioa, to the victories of peace. Nor will we forget 
 how, at the first glimpse of opportunity, he turned to his 
 lirst love ; how, when the cry of suffering came from a 
 conquered city, his heart went out to meet and to help it ; 
 how naturally he recurred to the power of Christian sym- 
 pathies and kindness ; how the blessed words of the 
 royal preacher of Israel sprung to his lips, " If thine 
 enemy hunger, feed him ; if he thirst, give him drink." 
 
 Blessed close of a great and good life. Blessed privi- 
 lege to forget for a moment the horrors and glories even 
 of war, the shouts and waving banners of triumph, to sit 
 again at the feet of the Divine Master, to lean upon his 
 bosom, to be kindled by and to radiate his divine love. 
 
 Hon. James Savage made the following remarks : — ■ 
 
 Mr. President: I am a little surprised to be called up ; 
 and yet, sir, as the catalogue of the Society shows. Mr. 
 Everett's name stood next to mine, I hope I may be ex- 
 cused if the infirmity of age is more apparent than any- 
 thing else in what I say. I can refer to the early days of 
 Mr. Everett, which has not been more than once alluded 
 to, and that before he had adopted the resolution of taking 
 the profession of a preacher of the Everlasting Gospel. 
 In this he was most eminently successful, and before that 
 I remember well, sir, that the boy was father to the man. 
 
 No one who then looked at him and heard him, would 
 have failed to foretell the success which attended him. Of 
 Mr. Everett, I supposse it can be said as of other men, 
 that he touched nothing that he did not adorn. I cannot 
 
MEMOUIAI. OK KDWAUl) EVEUETT. 77 
 
 givp you tlie Latin, sir, but it is one of the very strou;j; 
 illustrations of human grace ami felicity. It was very 
 observable. When I was in England I hud the advantage 
 of great attention from Mr. Everett. When their chief 
 statesman, Sir Robert I'lel, was suddenly stricken down 
 i»y instant death — and when the Earl of Aberdeen, 
 another great friend of our country, succeeded him, con- 
 tinuing to maintain .:11 our just rights consistent with the 
 rights of his own country. — I had the advantage of 
 meeting at Mr. llvcrctt's, more than once or twice, some 
 of the tirst gentlemen of England, chietly official persons, 
 and there to observe that no man of their own country 
 was more attended to or less inclined to [)resumc upon 
 that attention. He seemed to be always the servant of 
 the public in private as well as in public. I believe that 
 our country has never had a superior minister anywhere 
 at any court. I only wish that (uu' present representative, 
 tny younger friend, may make Mr. Everett's place good. 
 
 Hull. EiiKiry \\';i.«lilim'ii :u](lre.<.«e(l tlie meeting us fiillow.-i : — 
 
 Mil. I'uEsiDENT : I shall not presume, in sucii a pres- 
 ence, to speak of Mr. Everett as a scholar, for I should 
 feci that, by so doing, I was trespassing upon ground 
 which would lie so much more properly occnjiied by 
 others. Nor will the time allotted me, admit of my dwell- 
 ing upon the promiiu'ut ])art which he has taken in the 
 historic events of the last thirty \ears of his life. 
 
 On the other hand, I cannot pretend to that intimate 
 relation in the a.ssociations with him with which I have 
 l)een favored, which woiihl justify my attempting to draw 
 
78 MASSACHUSETTS IIISTOEICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 the nicer shades of character which intimacy alone en- 
 ables one to analyze and trace. The most I can hope to 
 do, is to give, in general terms, the results upon mv own 
 mind of the observation of more than forty years, chieflv, 
 of his public life. And yet I have too often shared in 
 his acts of personal kindness and courtesy, not to feel that 
 I have a right to speak, also, of some of those traits of 
 private character which stand out so prominently in the 
 history of his life. 
 
 The impression which my study and observation of Mr. 
 Everett's career have left most strongly defined upon my 
 own mind, is its harmony and completeness in all its parts 
 and characteristic qualities. In no field of honor or use- 
 fulness which he was called upon to occupy, did he ever 
 fail to meet its reasonable requirements, nor did he ever 
 shrink from the labor which its duties imposed. Many 
 men have been great in one department of intellectual 
 power or excellence, without possessing any claims to 
 distinction in any other. Some cultivate one set of their 
 powers or faculties, at the expense of the others. And of 
 many, the judgments which we fornr, are but the balanc- 
 ing of one quality against another, the good against the 
 evil, in order to ascertain at what point in the scale of 
 moral worth we are to place them, in the estimate which 
 we form of their character. The great warrior may be 
 the brutal tyrant or the sordid miser. The brilliant poet 
 may not soar above the atmosphere of his own vices, and 
 the splendid orator while arousing and wielding the pas- 
 sions of others, at his will, may be the veriest slave of 
 his own. Examples like these serve to mark the contrast 
 
MEMOUIAL UK KDW.VHO EVKKiyiT. 79 
 
 of "ood and evil which arc found in so in;inv of tlio nu>n 
 whom the worUl h;is called famous. 
 
 But in the Hfe of Mr. Everett, we seek, in vain, for any 
 such contrasts as these. It was not because there were 
 not, in the constitution of his mind and character, prominent 
 and strikiuLT ([ualities, hut because there was no occasion 
 to go through the process of bahmcing tliese (pniHties 
 against each other, in order to determine tlie rehitive rank 
 of merit in which he is hereafter to be hehl in the judgment 
 of posteritv. His character in this respect was homoge- 
 neous in its eh>mcuts, and complete, as well in its parts, as 
 in the relations of these to each other. 
 
 That which must have struck every one wlio knew Mr. 
 Everett as worthy of special notice, was the fiUing iij). if I 
 may so say, which ijavc to liis life and character that 
 roundness of proportion which renders it difficult, as we 
 now look upon it, to say which of the traits for which he 
 was distinguished, stand out most prominently upon the 
 cinvas. The picture is therefore in dangi-r of being 
 indistinct, from the al)sencc of shade by which to bring 
 out its features into bolder relief. lie was the scholar at 
 the same time that he was the orator of the pulpit and of 
 tbc senate, lie was the statesman and the diplomatist, 
 file administrative officer, and, for many years of his Hfe, 
 the leading citizen in all the land. He was the Christian 
 gentleman and the patriot; — and he won in them all, tlic 
 respect and admiration of the country. .\n<l yet, who is 
 nr)W ready to .say in whi( h r»f these he transcended his 
 own excellence in any other trait into which bis <liaract(r 
 mnv be divided? Had he l)een ciflier of these altmr, 
 
80 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIEIY. 
 
 there would have been, in the graces and accomplish- 
 ments which he would have brought to its duties, enough 
 to have given to his life in that sphere, the seeming 
 finish of completeness. This is what I mean by that 
 filling up which gave such an admirable fulness and 
 consistency of proportion, in his character and life. 
 
 I might illustrate this thought further by referring to 
 what is familiar, perhaps, to us all. It is more tlian forty 
 years since 1 first heard him in the pulpit. I need not 
 say with how much delight I listened to the rich and 
 varied thought, the beauty of diction, the inimitable power 
 of description, the affluence of illustration, and the pathos 
 of appeal which gave so much life to his sermons of that 
 day. These qualities of high pulpit oratory may not 
 have been peculiar to him. But there was added to 
 these, a beauty of countenance, a grace in action, a 
 sweetness in voice, and an impressive, though almost 
 measured modulation in tone and cadence, which lelt 
 upon the mind of the hearer the conviction that he was 
 unsurpassed as a rhetorician and an orator. 
 
 I afterwards heard him on the floor of Congress, and 
 there he was no less at home than in the pulpit. And 
 the dignity of his bearing, the mastery he showed of his 
 subject, and the eloquence of the language he uttered, 
 conunanded the willing attention of that body, while it 
 Avas yet dignified by men of eloquence and a national 
 fame. 
 
 We all know how faithfully and conscientiously he 
 performed the duties of the Executive of this Common- 
 wealth. Nothing was left undone Avhich courtesy, or 
 
MEMOIUAL OF KUWAKU EVEHETT. SI 
 
 kiiuliicss, or etiquette, claimed at his liaiul, from patiently 
 listcniug to the broken language of tlie wife or iiuitlur 
 pleading for the pardon of a wayward husband or son, to 
 those dignified state pa[»ers whicli came from his pen 
 perfect in all their parts. The same may be said of the 
 manner in which he bore himstif at the court of St. 
 James, and as successor of Mr. Webster, at the head of 
 our American court at Washington. 
 
 And in this, I do not mean to refer so much to great 
 exhibitions of skill and power as a diplomatist and a 
 statesman, as to the qualities which belonged to him per- 
 sonally as a man, and Avhich helped to grace and fill up 
 the measure of his official character. 
 
 But this character for completeness to which 1 have 
 alluded, may perhaps be better illustrated in tlie personal 
 tpialities which he exhibited in the amenities of private 
 life. We have heard him called cold in his sympatiiies, 
 and ungenial of manners, in his intercourse with others ; 
 and I confess that, till I knew liim, I thoui'lit his seeminj; 
 reserved, if not austere. But I need not say. in this 
 presence, how soon this impression was corrected when 
 one came in direct contact with him, either socially, or in 
 the ordinary intercourse of private life. There was in 
 his organization something of that shrinking delicacy 
 wliich makes one a|)parently shy and sensitive. But I 
 will venture to say, that no one ever went to him lor 
 kindness, or sympathy, or counsel, and found him iith<r 
 cold or repulsive. 
 
 He never forgr)t the courtesies of the gentleman in his 
 intercourse with anv man, however humlfle or devoid of 
 
82 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 influence he may have been. He never was surpassed in 
 the scrupulous punctuaUty with which he repUed to a 
 correspondent, however unimportant the subject addressed 
 to him, nor in the indulgence with which he received 
 and the kindness with which he acknowledged, the well 
 intended but often equivocal favor of printed works and 
 papers, with which authors loaded his table and taxed his 
 time — the thing he was the least able to spare. 
 
 The kindliness of his nature was manifested in a 
 hundred different forms, though rarely so as to attract the 
 observation or applause of others. In all the trying situa- 
 tions in which he was placed, at times, censured by party 
 antagonism, misconstrued in his motives and his acts, and 
 smarting under the keen rebuke of public disfavor, I do 
 not believe any one ever saw him lose the dignity of his 
 self possession, or heard him indulge in harsh or uncour- 
 teous language towards his bitterest opponent. 
 
 Xor will the world ever know how often the deserving 
 young man, struggling with adverse circumstances, has 
 found in him, what he needed more than money — a wise 
 counsellor and a kind friend. Hundreds could now tell 
 us how he sought them out, aided and encouraged them, 
 and helped them onward in a career of usefulness and 
 honor. While his body lay waiting for that august 
 solemnity in which a whole city, and, I might add, a State 
 and Nation bore a part, the door bell of his house was 
 rung, and, upon its being opened, there stood upon the 
 threshold a young man, a stranger, in the dress of a 
 junior ofiicer in the navy. He asked permission to come 
 in and look, once more, upon the foim and face of Mr. 
 
MEMOKIAL OF EUWARl) EVEUETT. 83 
 
 Everett. " I am a stranger to you," said lie to the gentle- 
 man in attendance, " but Mr. Everett was the best friend 
 1 ever bad ; be procured me the place I now bold, and 
 from tbat day bas never failed to write me letters of en 
 couragement and advice, altbougb I bad no claim upon 
 bis kindness and generosity." 
 
 Of bis affluence, wbetbcr of wi.-;dom or learning, of 
 worldly gifts or kindly consideration, be never witbiield, 
 wben appealed to by objects of merit and desert. 
 
 I desire also to say a single word upon anotbcr erior 
 into wbicb tbc public mind may bave naturally fallen. 
 ^Vbatevc^ be wrote or delivered was, uniforndy, so 
 finisbed and perfect in style and language, as well as in 
 tbougbt. tbat an impression became general tbat be bad 
 little ready or spontaneous eloquence, and tbat, in order 
 to meet an occasion, be must bave time for careful jirepa- 
 ration. In tbe danger wbi( li be bad to contend witb, of 
 having himself for a rival, be was, undoubtedly, loth to 
 speak without previous preparation. Ibit bis friends 
 knew that be was not only a man of ready and stirring 
 eloquence, but tbat, with all tbe grave, serious, and dig- 
 nified manner which characterized so niany of bis orations 
 and ])ublic addresses, he bad a fund of keen and sprightlv 
 wit, of playful hiunor, and a[)t and gentle repartee, wiiicb, 
 at times, electrified tbc hour, and delighted whoever w i- 
 fortunate enougli to witness tbein. 
 
 It might seem tbat for one wiio, through a long ])eriod 
 of public services, bad shown himself wurtby to bold :i 
 pi. ice in the foremost rank, notiiiug coubl be needed to 
 
84 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 fill up and round out a life of so much active usefulness 
 and honor. 
 
 But do we not all feel, now, how much it would have 
 wanted, if it had lacked the finish with which the history of 
 the last four years has crowned and completed the work ? 
 Nobody had a right to doubt the honesty and sincerity of 
 his convictions and opinions, however much one may 
 have differed from him in the matters of public policy. 
 But he saw the coming of that dreadful storm which has 
 been sweeping over our coiuitry, and, like many other 
 true patriots, he was willing to avert it by a conciliatory 
 policy, though, by so doing, he subjected himself to the 
 imputation of timidity or want of heart. But when he 
 saw that the scheme of the conspirators was not to secure 
 the rights which were theirs, but to usurp those to which 
 they had no claim; when he saw that the purpose at 
 which they aimed was not peace, but the overthrow, by 
 war, of the Government under which our country had 
 grown great and prosperous and happy, he threw the full 
 weight of his accumulated power of intellect and influ- 
 ence into the struggle, and, in the forgetfulness of old 
 opinions and cherished associations, he gave up to his 
 country the stores of learning, the resources of eloquence, 
 and the gathered energies of an entire life devoted to 
 diligence and duty. Men no longer called him timid, for 
 he showed that he had that highest of all courage, which 
 dares to go against one's own prepossessions and uttered 
 opinions, when in the light of present events, he looks 
 back u[)on the unintentional mistakes of the past. The 
 nation, the world itself looked on with admiration, as this 
 
MEMOniAI, OF F.nW.Vltl) KVF.UF.TT. K') 
 
 brave old champion in tlio ranso of riijlit, nrgoil on tlic 
 buttlo bv liis trumpet call to duty and to arms. And 
 they felt that his record was com[)lete, liis life rounded 
 out into tlie full proportions of ("liristian manliness, 
 when he uttered tliat last noble appeal, to crown the 
 triumphs of a nation's success, by the divine magnanimity 
 fliat feeds our encmv and carries him comfort in the hour 
 of prostration and distress. 
 
 While standing ujjou that lofty eminence of fame, to 
 which a long and arduous life of noble action liad 
 raised him, it was a kind Providence that spared him 
 from even the possibility of danger of any coming misap- 
 preiiension or mistake, lie laid by his armor before the 
 evening shadows had dimmed a single gleam of its l)right- 
 ness. But he went not to his rest till liis lust day's work 
 was fully and nobly accomplished. He put off the garl) 
 which lie had worn amid the dust and toil of an ever 
 busy life, to waken to a new existence where, wiiile tiie 
 jiast is secure, tlie future can never be clouded bv tlie 
 passions of erring nature, or the frailties of iiuman 
 judgment. 
 
 The fame which, till then, had been in his own keep- 
 ing, he left in ciiargc of the country he liad so long 
 served. And can we doubt that the trust will be sacredly 
 kept I Tliey will rear to him statues and monunienfs. 
 And they will do more. They will keep these iiionu- 
 nients and memorials alive, Ijy clierishing the memory 
 of the man to wiiom they are reared, in the treasured 
 offerings of ;i nation's history. 
 
 ft will be but another illustration <>( liie iinmorliditv 
 
86 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 ■which the fame of a truly great man lends to the Avorks 
 of art, by which men seek to perpetuate the memory of 
 the dead. The chisel of the artist may bring out from 
 the marble the form and features of one whom pride or 
 affection may seek to honor. But it is, at last, to history 
 that we must look, to interpret the record which sculp- 
 ture may have tried to register. 
 
 You, sir, beautifully reminded us, on another occasion, 
 of the search of the Roman orator amongst the rank 
 weeds and gathered rubbish of the cemetery of Syracuse, 
 for the forgotten monument of Archimedes, while you 
 reminded his countrymen that the great American Philos- 
 opher and Statesman, till then, had no memorial of art 
 reared to him, even in the city where he was born. 
 But though they answered that appeal with a generous 
 alacrity, the enduring bronze of which his speaking 
 statue is fashioned by the skilful cunning of art, would 
 do little to keep his memory alive for the service of pos- 
 terity, if his name had not been enrolled among the great 
 names that shed lustre upon the pages of his country's 
 history. 
 
 So it will be with the statue which, as we trust, a 
 gratified people will place by the side of his great com- 
 patriot, in the front of our Capitol. It is fitting that it 
 should stand there, a memorial, immortal in the light of 
 history, of the man, and of a people's gratitude. The 
 name of Everett, repeated to the inquirer in after ages, 
 will reanimate that form, and it will speak of the scholar, 
 the statesman, the orator, the patriot, and the Christian 
 
MEMOKIAI, OK KDWAHI) KVKIJETT. H"! 
 
 gentlenum, to wlioin it shall liavc been reared l)y a people 
 that knew, and loved, and honored him. 
 
 The Kov. Mr. \\ ;itorsti>n read tlie i"i(llii\vinL,' cominiinicntinii 
 from Jolm G. Wliittier, introiliioinir tlie letter l)_v tlie words of l)r. 
 Clianning-, who said ot' Mr. \\'hittier, in ire than a ((iiarter of a 
 eentiiry aL,'o : '• His poetry Imrsts from tlic .soul with the lire and 
 energy of an aneient propliet. And liis nohle simplicity <,it" char- 
 acter is the delij,'ht of all who know him." 
 
 AMKsiifKV, 27th 1st Month, lsi;."i. 
 
 Mv DEAit Fuiend: I ackno\vlcd:^c throiij^li thee, the 
 invitation of the .standing committee of the Massachusetts 
 Historical Society to he present at a special meeting of 
 the Society for the purpose of paying a tribute to the 
 memory of our late illustrious associate, Kdward Everett. 
 
 It is a matter of deep regret to me that the state of my 
 health will not permit me to be with von on aw on isiuii 
 of so much interest. 
 
 It is most fitting that the members of the Historical 
 Society of Massachusetts should add tlieir tribute to those 
 which have been already offered by all sects, parties, and 
 associations, to the name and fame of their late as.so- 
 ciatc. He was himself a maker of histnrv, and part and 
 parcel of all the noljle charities and hiunanizini,' intiii- 
 ences of his State and time. 
 
 When the grave closed over him who added new lustre 
 to the old and honored name of Quincy, all eyes instinc- 
 tively Hirned to Edward Everett as the last of that ven- 
 erated class of patriotic civilians who. outliving all dissent 
 and jealousy and p.ufy prejudice. Iiild their re|)utalion 
 
88 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETY. 
 
 by the secure tenure of the universal appreciation of its 
 worth as a common treasure of the repubhc. It is not 
 for me to pronounce his eulogy. Others, better qualified 
 by their intimate acquaintance with him, have done and 
 will do justice to his learning, eloquence, varied culture, 
 and social virtues. My secluded country life has afforded 
 me few opportunities of personal intercourse with him, 
 while my pronounced radicalism, on the gieat question 
 which has divided popular feeling, rendered our pohtical 
 paths widely divergent. Both of us early saw the danger 
 which threatened the country. In the language of the 
 prophet, we " saw the sword coming upon the land," but 
 while he believed in the possibility of averting it by 
 concession and compromise, I, on the contrary, as firmly 
 believed that such a course could only strengthen and 
 confirm Avhat I regarded as a gigantic conspiracy against 
 the rights and liberties, the union and the life, of the 
 nation. 
 
 Eecent events have certainly not tended to change this 
 belief on my part ; but in looking over the past, while I 
 see little or nothing to retract in the matter of opinion, I 
 am saddened by the reflection, that through the very 
 intensity of my convictions I may have done injustice to" 
 the motives of those with whom I differed. As respects 
 Edward Everett, it seems to me that only within the last 
 four years I have truly known him. 
 
 In that brief period, crowded as it is with a whole 
 life-work of consecration to the union, freedom, and 
 glory of his country, he not only commanded respect 
 and reverence, but concentrated upon himself in a most 
 
MEMUUIAL Of liDWAliU EVEUEIT. 81) 
 
 rcmarkultle iloi^rcc the love of ;ill \o\n\ and <^iiktous 
 licaits. Wo liavo seen, in tliose years of trial, very j^reat 
 saciiKces otfereil npon the altar of patriotism — wealth, 
 case, home-love, life itself. But IMwaicl Everett did 
 more than this ; he laid on that altar not only his time, 
 talents, and eulture, hut his jiride of opinion, his lonj,'- 
 cherishcd views of policy, his personal and political 
 predilections and prejudices, his constitutional fastidious- 
 ness of conservatism, and the carefully elal)orated sym- 
 metry of his puhlic reputation. With a rare and nohlc 
 ma"uanimitv. he met, without hesitation, the demand of 
 the great occasion. Breaking away from all the heset- 
 nients of custom and association, he forgot the things that 
 arc hchind, and, with an eye single to present duty, 
 pressed forward towards the mark of the high calling of 
 Divine Providence in the events of our time. All honor 
 to him ! If wc mourn that he is now beyond the reach 
 of our poor human praise, let us reverently trust that he 
 has received that higher plaudit: "^^'eIl done, thou good 
 and faithful servant ! " 
 
 When I last met him, as my colleague in the Electoral 
 College of Massachusetts, his look of health and vigor 
 seemed to promise us many years of iiis wisdom and 
 usefulness. On greeting him I felt impelled to express 
 my admiration and grateful appreciation of his ])atriotic 
 labors ; and I shall never forget how readily and grace- 
 fully he turned attention from himself to the great cause 
 in which wc had a conunon interest, and expressed his 
 thankfulness that he had still a country to serve. 
 
 To keep green the memory of such a man is at once a 
 
90 MASSACHUSETTS HISTORICAL SOCIETV. 
 
 privilege and a duty. That stainless life of seventy years 
 is a priceless legacy. His hands were pure. The shadow 
 of suspicion never fell on him. If he erred in his 
 opinions (and that he did so, he had the Christian grace 
 and courage to own), no selfish interest weighed in the 
 scale of his judgment against truth. 
 
 As our thoughts follow him to his last resting-place, 
 we are sadly reminded of his own touching lines, written 
 many years ago at Florence. The name he has left 
 behind is none the less " pure " that instead of being 
 " humble," as he then anticipated, it is on the lips of 
 grateful millions, and written ineffaceably on the record 
 of his country's trial and triumph : — 
 
 " Yet not for me when I shall fall asleep 
 Shall Santa Croce's lamps their vigils keep; 
 Beyond the main in Auburn's quiet shade, 
 With those I loved and love my couch be made ; — 
 Spring's pendent branches o'er the hillock wave, 
 And morning's dewdrops glisten on my grave, 
 While Heaven's great arch shall rise above my bed, 
 When Santa Croce's crumbles on her dead — 
 Unknown to erring or to suiFering fame. 
 So I may leave a pure though humble name " 
 
 Congratulating the Society on the prospect of the speedy 
 consummation of the great objects of our associate's 
 labors — (he peace and permanent union of our country, — 
 I am very truly thy friend, 
 
 JOHN G. WHITTIER 
 Robert C. Waterston, Boston. 
 The meeting then adjourned. 
 
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