[
19]
It is a gratification to me to have the opportunity to repeat the thanks which I so cordially gave you at the close of your oration of last Thursday, and of which the sentiment offered by me at the dinner-table was but an additional pulsation from the same heart.
I trust I may now congratulate you on the felicity, first of your selection of your subject, and secondly of its consummation in the delivery. . . . The pleasure with which I listened to your discourse was inspired far less by the success and all but universal acceptance and applause of the present moment than by the vista of the future which is opened to my view.
Casting my eyes backward no further than the 4th of July of last year, when you set all the vipers of Alecto a-hissing by proclaiming the Christian law of universal peace and love, and then casting them forward, perhaps not much further, but beyond my own allotted time, I see you have a mission to perform.
I look from Pisgah to the Promised Land; you must enter upon it. To the motto on my seal [Alteri soeculi] add Delenda est servitus.
Letters of warm and enthusiastic approval came from friends, including
W. H. Prescott and
Chancellor Kent.
Dr. Howe wrote:—
I cannot say that I love you better than I did before I heard your triumphal discourse, but certainly I feel prouder of your friendship than ever.
As I saw how you swayed and thrilled your audience, I did not feel, as I sometimes do, Would that I could so lead a host of hearts!
but I rejoiced that no other but you was doing it. Your tone was excellent.
I sat in the pew next the door, and heard every syllable distinctly from the first to the last.
With the exception of one or two gesticulations, your manner was most beautiful.
Mrs. Howe was completely surprised and carried away.
She had no idea that you could do anything like it. For the first quarter of an hour she did not dare to look at you, dreading some mistake or failure; but when she (lid look, she lost all fear for you. It was a most delightful day for me; and as I thought of the happiness and pride you were giving to me, I could realize what must be the emotions of your mother, sister, and the many dear friends who sat first with beating, anxious hearts, then with gratified and triumphant assurance that others would know something of that worth of which they know so much.
Mr. Everett wrote, September 5, thanking him for his ‘most magnificent address,—an effort certainly of unsurpassed felicity and power,’ though questioning its application of peace principles.
After receiving it in pamphlet he wrote: ‘I read it last evening with a renewal of the delight with which I heard it. Should you never do anything else, you have done enough for fame; but you are—as far as these public efforts are concerned —at the commencement of a career destined, I trust, to last for long years of ever increasing usefulness and honor.’
Felton wrote: ‘
Mr. Everett spoke of your oration in such a way that ’
