Mr. Everett lectures without any book or paper before him, and continues from first to last as though the words came from him on the spur of the moment.  It is known, however, that it is his practice to prepare his orations with great care and commit them entirely to memory, as does an actor.  Indeed, he repeats the same lecture over and over again, I am told, without the change of a word or of an action.  I did not like Mr. Everett’s lecture.  I did not like what he said, or the seeming spirit in which it was framed.  But I am bound to admit that his power of oratory is very wonderful.  Those among his countrymen who have criticised his manner in my hearing, have said that he is too florid, that there is an affectation in the motion of his hands, and that the intended pathos of his voice sometimes approaches too near the precipice over which the fall is so deep and rapid, and at the bottom of which lies absolute ridicule.  Judging for myself, I did not find it so.  My position for seeing was not good, but my ear was not offended.  Critics also should bear in mind that an orator does not speak chiefly to them or for their approval.  He who writes, or speaks, or sings for thousands, must write, speak, or sing as those thousands would have him.  That to a dainty connoisseur will be false music, which to the general ear shall be accounted as the perfection of harmony.  An eloquence altogether suited to the fastidious and hypercritical, would probably fail to carry off the hearts and interest the sympathies of the young and eager.  As regards manners, tone, and choice of words I think that the oratory of Mr. Everett places him very high.  His skill in his work is perfect.  He never falls back upon a word.  He never repeats himself.  His voice is always perfectly under command.  As for hesitation or timidity, the days for those failings have long passed by with him.  When he makes a point, he makes it well, and drives it home to the intelligence of every one before him.  Even that appeal to the holy men around him sounded well—­or would have done so had I not been present at that little arrangement in the anteroom.  On the audience at large it was manifestly effective.

But nevertheless the lecture gave me but a poor idea of Mr. Everett as a politician, though it made me regard him highly as an orator.  It was impossible not to perceive that he was anxious to utter the sentiments of the audience rather than his own; that he was making himself an echo, a powerful and harmonious echo of what he conceived to be public opinion in Boston at that moment; that he was neither leading nor teaching the people before him, but allowing himself to be led by them, so that he might best play his present part for their delectation.  He was neither bold nor honest, as Emerson had been, and I could not but feel that every tyro of a politician before him would thus recognize his want of boldness and of honesty.  As a statesman, or as a critic of statecraft, and