The occasion was solemn, impressive, and grandly historic. The people, it is true, stood apparently spellbound; and the vast throng was hushed and awed into profound silence while Mr. Lincoln delivered his brief speech. But it seemed to him that this silence and attention to his words arose more from the solemnity of the ceremonies and the awful scenes which gave rise to them, than anything he had said. He believed that the speech was a failure. He thought so at the time, and he never referred to it afterwards, in conversation with me, without some expression of unqualified regret that he had not made the speech better in every way. On the platform from which Mr. Lincoln delivered his address, and only a moment after it was concluded, Mr. Seward turned to Mr. Everett and asked him what he thought of the President’s speech. Mr. Everett replied, “It is not what I expected from him. I am disappointed.” Then in his turn Mr. Everett asked, “What do you think of it, Mr. Seward?” The response was, “He has made a failure, and I am sorry for it. His speech is not equal to him.” Mr. Seward then turned to me and asked, “Mr. Marshal, what do you think of it?” I answered, “I am sorry to say that it does not impress me as one of his great speeches.” In the face of these facts it has been repeatedly published that this speech was received by the audience with loud demonstrations of approval; that “amid the tears, sobs, and cheers it produced in the excited throng, the orator of the day, Mr. Everett, turned to Lincoln, grasped his hand and exclaimed, ‘I congratulate you on your success!’ adding in a transport of heated enthusiasm, ‘Ah, Mr. President, how gladly would I give my hundred pages to be the author of your twenty lines!’” Nothing of the kind occurred. It is a slander on Mr. Everett, an injustice to Mr. Lincoln, and a falsification of history. Mr. Everett would not have used the words attributed to him, in the face of his own condemnation of the speech uttered a moment before, without subjecting himself to the charge of being a toady and a hypocrite; and he was neither one or the other. As a matter of fact, the silence during the delivery of the speech, and the lack of hearty demonstrations of approval immediately after its close, were taken by Mr. Lincoln as certain proof that it was not well received. In that opinion we all shared. If any person then present saw, or thought he saw, the marvelous beauties of that wonderful speech, as intelligent men in all lands now see and acknowledge them, his superabundant caution closed his lips and stayed his pen. Mr. Lincoln said to me after our return to Washington, “I tell you, Hill, that speech fell on the audience like a wet blanket. I am distressed about it. I ought to have prepared it with more care.” Such continued to be his opinion of that most wonderful of all his platform addresses up to the time of his death.