The facts of Lincoln's early life are best stated in his own words,
communicated in 1859[see Appendix] to Mr. J. W. Fell, of Bloomington,
Illinois. Unlike many men who have risen from humble surroundings,
Lincoln never boasted of his wonderful struggle with poverty. His
nature had no room for the false pride of a Mr. Bounderby, even though
the facts warranted the claim. Indeed, he seldom mentioned his early
life at all. On one occasion he referred to it as "the short and
simple annals of the poor." Lincoln himself did not in any way base
his claims to public recognition upon the fact that he was born in a
log cabin and that he had split rails in his youth, although, on the
other hand, he was not ashamed of the facts. More, perhaps, than any
other man of his time he believed and by his actions realized the truth
of Burns' saying, "The man's the goud, for a' that." The real lesson
to be drawn from Lincoln's life is that under any conditions real
success is to be won by intelligent, unwavering effort, the degree of
success being determined by the ability and character of the
individual. Still less profitable is the attempt to contrast the
success of Lincoln with that of Washington, or Jefferson or of any
other American whose early circumstances were more favorable than
Lincoln's. In each case success has been worthily won, and we
Americans of the present generation should rejoice that our country has
produced so many great men. True patriotism does not consist in the
recognition of only one type of Americanism, but rather in the grateful
acceptance of every service that advances the fortunes and raises the
reputation of the republic. Peculiar interest attaches to the
character of Lincoln's early reading and especially to the small number
of books that were accessible to him. In these days of cheap and
plentiful literature it is hard for us to realize the conditions in
pioneer Kentucky and Indiana, where half a dozen volumes formed a
family library and even newspapers were few and far between. There was
no room for mental dissipation, and the few precious volumes that could
be obtained were read and re-read until their contents were fully
mastered. When Sir Henry Irving was asked to prepare a list of the
hundred best books he replied, "Before a hundred books, commend me to
the reading of two, the Bible and Shakespeare." Fortunately these two
classics came at an early age within the reach of Lincoln and the
frequency with which he quotes from both at all periods of his career,
both in his writings and in his conversation, shows that he had made
good use of them. The boy Lincoln not only read books, he made copious
extracts from them, often using a smooth shingle in the absence of
paper and depending upon the uncertain light of the log fire in his
father's cabin. Such use of books makes for intellectual growth, and
much of Lincoln's later success as a writer can be referred back to
this careful method of reading.
Lincoln's later reading shows considerable variety within certain
limits. He himself once remarked that he liked "little sad songs."
Among, his special favorites in this class of poetry were "Ben Bolt,"
"The Lament of the Irish Emigrant," Holmes' "The Last Leaf," and
Charles Mackay's "The Enquiry." The poem from which he most frequently
quoted and which seems to have impressed him most was, "Oh, Why Should
the Spirit of Mortal be Proud?" His own marked tendency to melancholy,
which is reflected in his face, seemed to respond to appeals of this
sort. Among his favorite poets besides Shakespeare were Burns,
Longfellow, Hood, and Lowell. Many of the poems in his personal
anthology were picked from the poets' corner of newspapers, and it was
in this way that he became acquainted with Longfellow. Lincoln was
especially fond of humorous writings, both in prose and verse, a taste
that is closely connected with his lifelong fondness for funny stories.
His favorite humorous writer during the presidential period was
Petroleum V. Nasby (David P. Locke), from whose letters he frequently
read to more or less sympathetic listeners. It was eminently
characteristic of Lincoln that the presentation to the Cabinet of the
Emancipation Proclamation was prefaced by the reading of the latest
Nasby letter.
Lincoln's statement in the Autobiography that he had picked up the
little advance he had made upon his early education, or rather lack of
education, is altogether too modest. It is known that after his term
in Congress he studied and mastered geometry; and, like Washington, he
early became a successful surveyor. His study of the law, too, was
characteristically thorough, and his skill in debate, in which he had
no superior, was the result of careful preparation. During the
presidential period Lincoln gave evidence of critical ability that is
little short of marvellous in a man whose schooling amounted to less
than a year. In a letter to the actor Hackett and in several
conversations he analyzed passages from "Hamlet," "Macbeth," and other
plays with an insight and sympathy that have rarely been surpassed even
by eminent literary critics.
At an early age Lincoln's interest was aroused in public speaking and
he soon began to exercise himself in this direction and to attend
meetings addressed by those skilled in the art of oratory. Many
stories are told of his local reputation as a speaker and story-teller
even before he moved to Illinois, much of his success then as in later
life being due to the singular charm of his personality. Lincoln never
overcame a certain awkwardness, almost uncouthness of appearance, and
he never acquired the finer arts of oratory for which his rival Douglas
was so conspicuous. But in spite of these physical difficulties he was
acknowledged by Douglas to be the man whom he most feared in debate;
and Lincoln was able to sway the critical, unfamiliar audience
assembled in Cooper Union as readily as the ruder crowds gathered about
the Illinois stump.
On the subject of Lincoln's religious belief, about which such varying
opinions have been held, it is sufficient to state that, although he
was not a member of any religious body, he had a firm conviction of the
protecting power of Providence and the efficacy of special prayer.
This latter characteristic seems to have been especially developed
during the presidential period. Both in his proclamations and in many
private interviews and communications he expresses himself clearly and
emphatically upon this subject. It is probable, too, that Lincoln read
more deeply and more frequently in the Bible during the storm and
stress of the Civil War than at any other period of his life. There
seems to be no authority for the statement sometimes made that after
the death of his son Willie, Lincoln showed a tendency to believe in
the doctrines of spiritualism. He was not free, however, from a belief
in the significance of dreams as portending important events. He was
also not a little of a fatalist, as he himself once stated to his
friend Arnold.
Perhaps the most striking characteristic of Lincoln's personality apart
from his honesty and sincerity was his perfect simplicity and
naturalness. Frederick A. Douglass, the great leader of the colored
race, once remarked that President Lincoln was the only white man that
he had ever met who never suggested by his manner a sense of
superiority. Not that Lincoln was lacking in personal dignity.
Neither as a practising lawyer nor as President of the United States,
would he permit anyone to take what he regarded as liberties with him.
But, on the other hand, he did not allow his elevated position to
change his personal relations. His old Illinois friends found in the
White House the same cordial welcome and simple manners to which they
had been accustomed in the pleasant home at Springfield.
During the first few weeks of the administration it was believed by
many persons, including Mr. Seward himself, that President Lincoln
would be greatly influenced in his policy by the superior experience in
public affairs of his Secretary of State. Mr. Seward even went so far
as to draw up a plan of action, which he submitted to his chief.
Lincoln soon showed, however, that he was not a follower, but a leader
of men, beneath whose good nature and kindly spirit was a power of
initiative that has rarely been equalled among the statesmen of the
world. Even the dictatorial Secretary of War found it necessary to
yield to the President on all points that the latter regarded as being
fundamental. Few other presidents have been so bitterly attacked and
so cruelly misrepresented as Lincoln, but nothing could turn him from
his purpose when that was once formed. Like the wise man that he was,
Lincoln was always ready to listen to the suggestions of others, but
the conclusion finally reached by him was always his own. He applied
to questions of state the same methods of careful, impartial inquiry
that had served him so well as a lawyer on the Illinois circuit, and
if, being human, he did not always avoid committing errors, he never
acted from impulse or prejudice. Lincoln was a strong leader, but he
was at the same time a wise leader.
Turning now from the man to his works, we note first that the
development of Lincoln's style was slow. One might almost be tempted
to say that Lincoln developed several different styles in succession.
This, however, is hardly true, for in spite of the numerous marked
changes and improvements in Lincoln's manner of writing, certain
fundamental qualities remained, the real expression of his personality,
that is, the real style of Lincoln. From the beginning to the end we
find an effort to say something and to say it in as clear a manner as
possible, an effort without which there can be no real success in
writing. After a practice in public speaking of over thirty years
Lincoln as President could still say: "I believe I shall never be old
enough to speak without embarrassment when I have nothing to talk
about."
The first specimen of Lincoln's writings that has been preserved is a
communication to the voters of Sangamon County in 1832, when Lincoln
was for the first time a candidate for the State legislature. It is
significant of Lincoln's imperfect command of English at that time that
"some of the grammatical errors" were corrected by a friend before the
circular was issued. Although this circumstance makes it impossible
for us to judge exactly what his style was at this period, we may be
sure that the changes were comparatively slight and that the general
form at least was Lincoln's. The question naturally arises whether
there is anything in this first specimen of Lincoln's writing that
suggests, however remotely, the Gettysburg Address and the Second
Inaugural. A little study will discover suggestions at least of the
later manner, just as in the uncouth and awkward young candidate for
the Illinois State Legislature, we can note many traits, intellectual
and moral, that distinguish the mature and well-poised statesman of
thirty years later. It is the same man, but developed and
strengthened, it is the same style, strengthened and refined. If
Nicolay and Hay go too far when they say of the address: "This is
almost precisely the style of his later years," it would be quite as
wrong to deny any likeness between the two. In the first place, we
have the same severely logical treatment of the subject matter, from
which Lincoln, a lawyer and public speaker, never departed. Lincoln's
grammar may not have been impeccable at this time, but his thinking
powers were already little short of masterly. This, then, is the first
element in the makeup of Lincoln's style, the ability to think straight
and consequently to write straight. His legal training, which was then
very meagre, cannot account for his logical thinking; it is more
correct to say that he later became a successful lawyer because of the
logical bent of his mind.
Closely connected with this early development of the form of thinking
was Lincoln's interest in words, and his desire always to use words
with a perfect understanding of their meaning. Even in his boyhood he
found pleasure in discovering the exact meaning of a new word and in
later life he was constantly adding to his verbal stores. Shortly
before his inauguration Lincoln remarked to a clergyman, who had asked
him how he had acquired his remarkable power of "putting things": "I
can say this, that among my earliest recollections I remember how, when
a mere child, I used to get irritated when anybody talked to me in a
way I could not understand. I don't think I ever got angry at anything
else in my life. But that always disturbed my temper, and has ever
since. I can remember going to my little bedroom, after hearing the
neighbors talk of an evening with my father, and spending no small part
of the night walking up and down, trying to make out what was the exact
meaning of their, to me, dark sayings."
In this first address we find no loose use of words. The character of
the address does not of course admit of ornament or figurative
language, but any subject, however simple, admits of digressions and
mental excursions by the illogical and careless writer. Of these there
is not a trace. Even in the most informal letters and telegrams,
written at post haste and at times under the most extreme pressure of
business and anxiety, Lincoln shows a natural feeling for the
appropriate expression that is found only in the masters of language.
Five years later, in 1837, the interval being represented by only a few
unimportant letters, Lincoln entered upon a period distinguished by
qualities that are not usually associated with his name, a tendency to
fine writing that we should look for earlier than at the age of
twenty-eight. The subject of the address is "The Perpetuation of our
Political Institutions," and the complete text is given in this volume.
Here for once Lincoln speaks of an Alexander, a Buonoparte, a
Washington. The influence of Webster is apparent, in this first purely
oratorical attempt of Lincoln's. It could hardly have been otherwise
at a time when the great Whig orator was making the whole country ring
with his wonderful speeches. It is almost certain, too, that Henry
Clay, to whom Lincoln later referred as _beau ideal_ of an orator, had
a part in moulding this early manner, though this is probably less
apparent here than in the later soberer addresses.
But it must not be supposed that this speech consists merely of what
Hamlet would call "words, words, words." Neither are all the figures
inferior and commonplace. Although it is more ornate than anything in
the later period, the following description of the passing away of the
heroes of the Revolution is a fine example of the Websterian style:
"They were a forest of giant oaks; but the all-resistless hurricane has
swept over them, and left only here and there a lonely trunk, despoiled
of its verdure, shorn of its foliage, unshading and unshaded, to murmur
in a few more ruder storms, then to sink and be no more." The closing
sentence of the address is almost wholly, in the later style and might
have served for the close of the First Inaugural, which, in its
original form, did actually contain a Biblical quotation.
That the rhetorical manner had not gained entire possession of Lincoln
at that time, but was simply used by him on what seemed to be
appropriate occasions, is sufficiently shown by a speech delivered in
the legislature early in 1839, in which we find the strictly logical
discussion of the first address. This speech is especially interesting
because of the fact that it is the earliest encounter of Lincoln and
Douglas that has been preserved. In a way, therefore, it may be
regarded as the first Lincoln-Douglas debate.
One other rhetorical effort was made, in 1842, and then we find no more
specimens of this class of speaking until the so-called Lost Speech of
1856. This address of 1842 was delivered before the Springfield
Washingtonian Temperance Society, on Washington's Birthday, and it is
even more inflated than the first specimen. Combined with the
rhetoric, however, there is a mass of sober argument that again
suggests the later Lincoln. The arguments, too, are characterized by a
sound common sense that is no less characteristic of the speaker. The
peroration deserves quotation as being one of the finest and at the
same time one of the least familiar passages in Lincoln's writings:
"This is the one hundredth and tenth anniversary of the birthday of
Washington. We are met to celebrate this day. Washington is the
mightiest name of earth: long since mightiest in the cause of civil
liberty, still mightiest in moral reformation. On that name a eulogy
is expected. It cannot be. To add brightness to the sun or glory to
the name of Washington is alike impossible. Let none attempt it. In
solemn awe pronounce the name, and in its naked, deathless splendor
leave it shining on." This approaches very closely the beauty and
strength of the presidential period.
In 1844 Lincoln wrote several poems, which are not without merit. As a
boy he was famous among his companions for his skill in writing
humorous verses, but these later specimens of his muse are serious,
even melancholy in their tone.
We next come to the congressional period, from 1847 to 1849. The
best-known speech from this period, Lincoln's introduction to a
national public, is that of July 27, 1848, on General Taylor and the
veto, Taylor being then the Whig candidate for the presidency. This
speech, which was received with immense applause, owes its special
prominence to the fact that it is the only purely humorous speech by
Lincoln that has been preserved. The subject of the attack is General
Cass, Taylor's Democratic opponent, whom Lincoln treats in a manner
that somewhat suggests Douglas' later treatment of Lincoln on the
stump. Its peroration is of peculiar interest, since it consists of a
funny story.
To anyone familiar with Lincoln's habit of story-telling the
introduction of a story at the end of a speech may not seem strange.
But, as a matter of fact, this is the only case of the kind that has
been noted, and a careful reading of the speeches shows either that
they were not fully reported or that as a rule he confined his
story-telling to conversation. Even in the debates with Douglas, when
he was addressing Illinois crowds from the stump at a time when stories
were even more popular than they are now, Lincoln seldom used this
device to rouse interest or to strengthen his argument. A partial
explanation of this curious contrast between his conversation and his
writing, so far as the debates are concerned, may be found in a remark
made by Lincoln to a friend who had urged him to treat the subject more
popularly. Lincoln said; "The occasion is too serious, the issues are
too grave. I do not seek applause, or to amuse the people, but to
convince them." With Lincoln the desire to prove his proposition,
whatever it might be, was always uppermost. In the earliest speeches
were noted the severe logic and the strict adherence to the subject in
hand. To the end Lincoln never changed this principle of his public
speaking.
Although the stories, then, have but little direct bearing upon
Lincoln's writings, they are so characteristic a feature of the man
that they cannot be wholly disregarded. In the two cases already noted
the stories were illustrative, and this appears to be true of all of
Lincoln's anecdotes, whether they occur in his conversation or in his
writings. He apparently never dragged in stories for their own sake,
as so many conversational bores are in the habit of doing, but the
story was suggested by or served to illustrate some incident or
principle. Indeed, in aptness of illustration Lincoln has never been
surpassed. Emerson said of him: "I am sure if this man had ruled in a
period of less facility of printing, he would have become mythological
in a very few years, like Aesop or Pilpay, or one of the Seven Wise
Masters, by his fables and proverbs." Many of the anecdotes attributed
to Lincoln are undoubtedly to be referred to other sources, but the
number of authentic stories noted, especially during the presidency, is
very large.
The question has often been raised whether Lincoln originated the
stories he told so well. Fortunately we have his own words in this
matter. To Noah Brooks he said: "I do generally remember a good story
when I hear it, but I never did invent anything original. I am only a
retail dealer." Slightly differing from this, though probably not
contradicting it, is Lincoln's statement to Mr. Chauncey M. Depew: "I
have originated but two stories in my life, but I tell tolerably well
other people's stories."
During the Civil War Lincoln's stories served a special purpose as a
sort of safety valve. To a Congressman, who had remonstrated with him
for his apparent frivolity in combining funny stories with serious
discussion, he said: "If it were not for these stories I should die."
The addresses of the presidential period, however, with the exception
of a few responses to serenades, are entirely without humorous
anecdotes. Although Lincoln never hesitated to clear the discussion of
the most momentous questions through the medium of a funny story, his
sense of official and literary propriety made him confine them to
informal occasions.
The Eulogy of Henry Clay of 1852 is of interest as being the only
address of this kind that Lincoln ever delivered. It might perhaps
better be called an appreciation, and because of its sincerity and deep
sympathy it may be regarded as a model of its kind. Two years later
Lincoln engaged in his first real debate with Douglas on the burning
question of the day, the repeal of the Missouri Compromise. From the
purely literary point of view the Peoria Speech is superior to the
better-known debates of four years later. While it lacks the finish
and poise of the two Inaugurals it is far more imaginative than the
Debates. One of its most striking features is the comparatively large
number of quotations, both from the Bible and from profane writings.
Although as a rule Lincoln quotes sparingly, this one speech contains
no fewer than twelve quotations, seven of these being from the Bible.
The only other speech that equals this one in the number of quotations
is the so-called Lost Speech of 1856, the authenticity of which is
doubtful. The very much shorter Second Inaugural, however, with its
four Bible quotations, has a larger proportionate number. Lincoln's
quotations seem to be suggested emotionally rather than intellectually.
This is indicated by the fact that the most emotional speeches contain
the greatest number of quotations. The first Inaugural, for example,
which is in the main a sober statement of principles, intended to quiet
rather than to excite passion, is four times as long as the emotional
Second Inaugural, but contains only one quotation to the four of the
other. We may note in this connection that almost exactly one-half of
the total number of quotations occurring in Lincoln's writings are
taken from the Bible, and that a large proportion of the profane
quotations are from Shakespeare. Lincoln was also fond of using
proverbial sayings, a habit that emphasized his character as a popular
or national writer. For most of his proverbs are local and many of
them are intensely homely. Quotations of this class occur at all
periods of his life, beginning with the first address, and they are
sometimes used in such unexpected places as official telegrams to
officers in the field. Strange to say, the maxim that is most
frequently associated with Lincoln's name cannot with any certainty be
regarded as having been used by him, either as a quotation or as an
original saying, "You can fool all of the people some of the time, and
some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all
the time."
At the first regular Republican State Convention in Illinois, held at
Bloomington, May 29, 1856, Lincoln delivered an address on the public
issues of the day that roused the enthusiasm of his hearers to such a
degree that the reporters forgot to take notes and therefore failed to
furnish the text to their respective newspapers. In the course of time
it came to be known as the Lost Speech, and such, in the opinion of
many who were present on the occasion, it continued to be. Mr. W. C.
Whitney, a young lawyer from the neighboring town of Champaign, later
prepared a version based upon notes, from which some general idea of
the character of the speech can perhaps be gained.
The Lincoln-Douglas Debates furnish perhaps the best example of this
class of public speaking that is available. Although they were
extempore, as far as the actual language is concerned, they have been
preserved in full. In spite of the informal style appropriate to the
"stump," these discussions of the Dred Scott decision, Popular
Sovereignty, and the other questions suggested by slavery are marked by
a closeness of reasoning and a readiness of retort that show the great
master in the difficult art of debate. These qualities are not
confined to the one speaker, for his opponent was no less adroit and
ready. We may well say in this connection, "there were giants in those
days."
Much of Lincoln's success in these historic debates was due to his
intense conviction of the righteousness of the cause for which he was
pleading. As lawyer and political speaker Lincoln always felt the
necessity of believing in his case. He frequently refused to appear in
suits because he could not put his heart into them, and he never
defended a policy from mere party loyalty. Much of Lincoln's success
as a speaker was due to the fact that his hearers felt that they could
trust him. This is simply a new application of the old principle that
the chief qualification for success in oratory is character. In
reading a man's books we may forget his character for the time, but in
listening to an orator we have the man himself constantly before us,
and he himself makes or mars his success.
In 1859 Lincoln delivered his second and last long occasional
address--a discussion of agriculture at the Wisconsin State Fair at
Milwaukee. This is the only important non-political speech by Lincoln
that has been preserved and it is interesting as showing his ability to
treat a subject of general interest. Here, as in his discussions of
political questions, Lincoln displayed true statesmanlike insight and
foresight, long before the time when experiment stations and farmers'
institutes began to teach the very principles that he so wisely and
effectively expounded.
In 1860 Lincoln appeared for the first time before a New York audience
and we have his own word for it that he suffered a severe attack of
stage fright on that occasion. The event showed, however, that he had
no reason to fear the judgment of one of the most critical audiences
that ever assembled in the Cooper Union. The Hon. Joseph H. Choate,
who was present, writes of his appearance: "When he spoke he was
transformed, his eye kindled, his voice rang, his face shone and seemed
to light up the whole assembly. For an hour and a half he held his
audience in the hollow of his hand." This address may be regarded as a
precursor, and a worthy precursor, of the First Inaugural, and by many
competent critics it has been given the first place among the
discussions of the political situation just before the war. After such
a performance there could be no hesitation on the part of those that
heard it in acknowledging Abraham Lincoln as one of the most powerful
speakers of his day. Before returning to Illinois Lincoln travelled
through several of the New England States, making speeches in a number
of the larger towns.
The speeches delivered by Lincoln on the journey to Washington, in
1860, beginning with the exquisite Farewell Address at Springfield,
include some of the best of his shorter addresses. The most
interesting of these is the one delivered in Independence Hall.
The First Inaugural Address was not received at the time of its first
publication in the newspapers, even at the North, with the general
enthusiasm that we should now be inclined to assume; and in the South
it was severely criticised for its alleged lack of force and
definiteness. Its effect, however, upon the immense audience gathered
in front of the Capitol seems to have been immediate. The document had
been written with great care at Springfield, some changes being made
after the arrival at Washington. The most important of these were the
substitution for the original closing paragraph of the beautiful
peroration suggested by Secretary Seward. In beauty of language and
elevation of thought this first public utterance by President Lincoln
may be compared to the great political utterances of Burke.
First among the little classics of the world stands the Gettysburg
Address. At the time of its delivery it does not seem to have been
generally accepted as a notable utterance. By many of the newspaper
correspondents it was referred to as "remarks by the President," and
some of the papers contained no comment upon it. By others it was
dismissed with a few words of mild praise. Even after the death of
Lincoln there was no general agreement as to its supreme merits as a
part of our national literature. Conflicting stories still pass
current in books and articles on Lincoln about its composition, and
original reception. An examination of the testimony shows that the
following facts may be accepted as fairly proved. The greater part of
the address was written in Washington after very careful preparation,
and profound reflection. The address was read from MS., but with some
variations that apparently occurred to the speaker at the time of
delivery. Mr. Everett did not clasp the President's hand while he
expressed a willingness to exchange his hundred pages for the twenty
lines just read. It is uncertain whether Lincoln said at the time that
the address did not "scour," but if he did use such an expression it
was not because of a consciousness of having failed to make adequate
preparation for the occasion.
One of the best commentaries on the Second Inaugural Address appeared
in an article in the London _Spectator_: "We cannot read it without a
renewed conviction that it is the noblest political document known to
history, and should have for the nation and the statesmen he left
behind him something of a sacred and almost prophetic character." Carl
Schurz compared it to a sacred poem, and all discriminating readers
agree in placing it by the side of the Gettysburg Address as an almost
perfect specimen of pure English prose.
The other addresses of the presidential period are, with the exception
of the last speech, on the reconstruction of Louisiana, of minor
importance. They consist in the main of responses to serenades, a form
of address which Lincoln cordially detested and in which as a rule he
achieved only a moderate degree of success. The cares of his great
office made such cruel demands upon his time and strength that he
declined many requests to speak in public, and whenever he did appear
he confined his remarks within the smallest possible limits.
Furthermore, Lincoln was not a reader speaker and rarely did himself
justice without careful preparation. Writers on Lincoln have failed to
note the severe criticisms upon Lincoln's impromptu remarks that
appeared in the opposition press and in the English newspapers. Even
as late as 1863 newspaper writers not opposed to him did not hesitate
to refer to the plainness of the President's public speaking.
The Messages to Congress are distinguished from most documents of that
class by their frequent purple patches. To the enumeration of dry
facts furnished by the various departments they add an elevation and
breadth of thought of the first order.
In a class by themselves are the various proclamations, some of them of
a purely formal character, such as those announcing blockades, others
of a distinctly literary character, like the announcements of fasts and
feasts. Midway between these two classes is the most important of all,
the Emancipation Proclamation of January 1, 1863, which, with the
exception of the concluding sentence, is entirely free from ornament.
Perhaps Lincoln felt here, as with the Debates, that the occasion was
too serious, not only for jesting but even for attempting the mere
graces of language.
Finally, mention should be made of the letters and telegrams written by
President Lincoln. Although many letters have been preserved from
earlier times, none make special claims to attention outside of the
information that they furnish. But during the last four years of his
life Lincoln wrote some of the most beautiful letters that have ever
been composed. One of these, the letter to Mrs. Bixby, has been given
a place on the walls of one of the Oxford colleges, as a model of noble
English. The Conkling letter and the letter to Horace Greeley are
among the most important statements of Lincoln's policy and are really
short political tracts.
The First Inaugural can be traced through the Cooper Union Address and
the Lincoln-Douglas Debates, the Peoria Speech, and the speeches of
1854 to the seed of 1832, the plain, logical, direct statement of
principles of Lincoln's first address to the public. The development
of the Gettysburg Address and the Second Inaugural, those supreme
expressions of Lincoln's feelings, is not, in the main, to be traced
through complete speeches, but it must be sought for in isolated
passages, when he left logic for the moment and gave himself up to the
passing emotion. The real seed of the majestic simplicity of those
addresses is perhaps to be found in those rhetorical speeches of an
early period, so lacking apparently in the qualities that we love and
admire. In writing, as in so many other things, we reap not what we
sow, but its fruition. The effect may seem very remotely related to
the cause, but he would be a fool who would deny the relation between
them.