Dean Swift said that the man who makes two blades of grass grow where
one grew before serves well of his kind. Considering how much grass
there is in the world and comparatively how little fun, we think that a
still more deserving person is the man who makes many laughs grow where
none grew before.
Sometimes it happens that the biggest crop of laugh is produced by a man
who ranks among the greatest and wisest. Such a man was Abraham Lincoln
whose wholesome fun mixed with true philosophy made thousands laugh and
think at the same time. He was a firm believer in the saying, “Laugh and
the world laughs with you.”
Whenever Abraham Lincoln wanted to make a strong point he usually began
by saying, “Now, that reminds me of a story.” And when he had told a
story every one saw the point and was put into a good humor.
The ancients had Aesop and his fables. The moderns had Abraham Lincoln
and his stories.
Aesop’s Fables have been printed in book form in almost every language
and millions have read them with pleasure and profit. Lincoln’s stories
were scattered in the recollections of thousands of people in various
parts of the country. The historians who wrote histories of Lincoln’s
life remembered only a few of them, but the most of Lincoln’s stories
and the best of them remained unwritten. More than five years ago the
author of this book conceived the idea of collecting all the yarns and
stories, the droll sayings, and witty and humorous anecdotes of Abraham
Lincoln into one large book, and this volume is the result of that idea.
Before Lincoln was ever heard of as a lawyer or politician, he was
famous as a story teller. As a politician, he always had a story to fit
the other side; as a lawyer, he won many cases by telling the jury a
story which showed them the justice of his side better than any argument
could have done.
While nearly all of Lincoln’s stories have a humorous side, they also
contain a moral, which every good story should have.
They contain lessons that could be taught so well in no other way. Every
one of them is a sermon. Lincoln, like the Man of Galilee, spoke to the
people in parables.
Nothing that can be written about Lincoln can show his character in such
a true light as the yarns and stories he was so fond of telling, and at
which he would laugh as heartily as anyone.
For a man whose life was so full of great responsibilities, Lincoln had
many hours of laughter when the humorous, fun-loving side of his great
nature asserted itself.
Every person to keep healthy ought to have one good hearty laugh every
day. Lincoln did, and the author hopes that the stories at which he
laughed will continue to furnish laughter to all who appreciate good
humor, with a moral point and spiced with that true philosophy bred in
those who live close to nature and to the people around them.
In producing this new Lincoln book, the publishers have followed an
entirely new and novel method of illustrating it. The old shop-worn
pictures that are to be seen in every “History of Lincoln,” and in
every other book written about him, such as “A Flatboat on the Sangamon
River,” “State Capitol at Springfield,” “Old Log Cabin,” etc., have all
been left out and in place of them the best special artists that could
be employed have supplied original drawings illustrating the “point” of
Lincoln’s stories.
These illustrations are not copies of other pictures, but are original
drawings made from the author’s original text expressly for this book.
In these high-class outline pictures the artists have caught the true
spirit of Lincoln’s humor, and while showing the laughable side of
many incidents in his career, they are true to life in the scenes and
characters they portray.
In addition to these new and original pictures, the book contains many
rare and valuable photograph portraits, together with biographies, of
the famous men of Lincoln’s day, whose lives formed a part of his own
life history.
No Lincoln book heretofore published has ever been so profusely, so
artistically and expensively illustrated.
The parables, yarns, stories, anecdotes and sayings of the “Immortal
Abe” deserve a place beside Aesop’s Fables, Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress
and all other books that have added to the happiness and wisdom of
mankind.
Lincoln’s stories are like Lincoln himself. The more we know of them the
better we like them.
BY COLONEL ALEXANDER K. McCLURE.
While Lincoln would have been great among the greatest of the land as a
statesman and politician if like Washington, Jefferson and Jackson,
he had never told a humorous story, his sense of humor was the most
fascinating feature of his personal qualities.
He was the most exquisite humorist I have ever known in my life. His
humor was always spontaneous, and that gave it a zest and elegance that
the professional humorist never attains.
As a rule, the men who have become conspicuous in the country as
humorists have excelled in nothing else. S. S. Cox, Proctor Knott, John
P. Hale and others were humorists in Congress. When they arose to speak
if they failed to be humorous they utterly failed, and they rarely
strove to be anything but humorous. Such men often fail, for the
professional humorist, however gifted, cannot always be at his best, and
when not at his best he is grievously disappointing.
I remember Corwin, of Ohio, who was a great statesman as well as a great
humorist, but whose humor predominated in his public speeches in Senate
and House, warning a number of the younger Senators and Representatives
on a social occasion when he had returned to Congress in his old age,
against seeking to acquire the reputation of humorists. He said it
was the mistake of his life. He loved it as did his hearers, but the
temptation to be humorous was always uppermost, and while his speech on
the Mexican War was the greatest ever delivered in the Senate, excepting
Webster’s reply to Hayne, he regretted that he was more known as a
humorist than as a statesman.
His first great achievement in the House was delivered in 1840 in reply
to General Crary, of Michigan, who had attacked General Harrison’s
military career. Corwin’s reply in defense of Harrison is universally
accepted as the most brilliant combination of humor and invective ever
delivered in that body. The venerable John Quincy Adams a day or two
after Corwin’s speech, referred to Crary as “the late General Crary,”
and the justice of the remark from the “Old Man Eloquent” was accepted
by all. Mr. Lincoln differed from the celebrated humorists of the
country in the important fact that his humor was unstudied. He was
not in any sense a professional humorist, but I have never in all
my intercourse with public men, known one who was so apt in humorous
illustration us Mr. Lincoln, and I have known him many times to silence
controversy by a humorous story with pointed application to the issue.
His face was the saddest in repose that I have ever seen among
accomplished and intellectual men, and his sympathies for the people,
for the untold thousands who were suffering bereavement from the war,
often made him speak with his heart upon his sleeve, about the sorrows
which shadowed the homes of the land and for which his heart was freely
bleeding.
I have many times seen him discussing in the most serious and heartfelt
manner the sorrows and bereavements of the country, and when it would
seem as though the tension was so strained that the brittle cord of life
must break, his face would suddenly brighten like the sun escaping from
behind the cloud to throw its effulgence upon the earth, and he would
tell an appropriate story, and much as his stories were enjoyed by his
hearers none enjoyed them more than Mr. Lincoln himself.
I have often known him within the space of a few minutes to be
transformed from the saddest face I have ever looked upon to one of the
brightest and most mirthful. It was well known that he had his great
fountain of humor as a safety valve; as an escape and entire relief from
the fearful exactions his endless duties put upon him. In the gravest
consultations of the cabinet where he was usually a listener rather
than a speaker, he would often end dispute by telling a story and none
misunderstood it; and often when he was pressed to give expression on
particular subjects, and his always abundant caution was baffled, he
many times ended the interview by a story that needed no elaboration.
I recall an interview with Mr. Lincoln at the White House in the
spring of 1865, just before Lee retreated from Petersburg. It was well
understood that the military power of the Confederacy was broken, and
that the question of reconstruction would soon be upon us.
Colonel Forney and I had called upon the President simply to pay our
respects, and while pleasantly chatting with him General Benjamin F.
Butler entered. Forney was a great enthusiast, and had intense hatred of
the Southern leaders who had hindered his advancement when Buchanan
was elected President, and he was bubbling over with resentment against
them. He introduced the subject to the President of the treatment to
be awarded to the leaders of the rebellion when its powers should be
confessedly broken, and he was earnest in demanding that Davis and other
conspicuous leaders of the Confederacy should be tried, condemned and
executed as traitors.
General Butler joined Colonel Forney in demanding that treason must
be made odious by the execution of those who had wantonly plunged the
country into civil war. Lincoln heard them patiently, as he usually
heard all, and none could tell, however carefully they scanned his
countenance what impression the appeal made upon him.
I said to General Butler that, as a lawyer pre-eminent in his
profession, he must know that the leaders of a government that had
beleaguered our capital for four years, and was openly recognized as
a belligerent power not only by our government but by all the leading
governments of the world, could not be held to answer to the law for the
crime of treason.
Butler was vehement in declaring that the rebellious leaders must be
tried and executed. Lincoln listened to the discussion for half an hour
or more and finally ended it by telling the story of a common drunkard
out in Illinois who had been induced by his friends time and again to
join the temperance society, but had always broken away. He was finally
gathered up again and given notice that if he violated his pledge once
more they would abandon him as an utterly hopeless vagrant. He made
an earnest struggle to maintain his promise, and finally he called for
lemonade and said to the man who was preparing it: “Couldn’t you put
just a drop of the cratur in unbeknownst to me?”
After telling the story Lincoln simply added: “If these men could
get away from the country unbeknownst to us, it might save a world of
trouble.” All understood precisely what Lincoln meant, although he
had given expression in the most cautious manner possible and the
controversy was ended.
Lincoln differed from professional humorists in the fact that he
never knew when he was going to be humorous. It bubbled up on the most
unexpected occasions, and often unsettled the most carefully studied
arguments. I have many times been with him when he gave no sign of
humor, and those who saw him under such conditions would naturally
suppose that he was incapable of a humorous expression. At other times
he would effervesce with humor and always of the most exquisite and
impressive nature. His humor was never strained; his stories never
stale, and even if old, the application he made of them gave them the
freshness of originality.
I recall sitting beside him in the White House one day when a message
was brought to him telling of the capture of several brigadier-generals
and a number of horses somewhere out in Virginia. He read the dispatch
and then in an apparently soliloquizing mood, said: “Sorry for the
horses; I can make brigadier-generals.”
There are many who believe that Mr. Lincoln loved to tell obscene or
profane stories, but they do great injustice to one of the purest and
best men I have ever known. His humor must be judged by the environment
that aided in its creation.
As a prominent lawyer who traveled the circuit in Illinois, he was much
in the company of his fellow lawyers, who spent their evenings in the
rude taverns of what was then almost frontier life. The Western people
thus thrown together with but limited sources of culture and enjoyment,
logically cultivated the story teller, and Lincoln proved to be the most
accomplished in that line of all the members of the Illinois bar. They
had no private rooms for study, and the evenings were always spent in
the common barroom of the tavern, where Western wit, often vulgar or
profane, was freely indulged in, and the best of them at times told
stories which were somewhat “broad;” but even while thus indulging
in humor that would grate harshly upon severely refined hearers, they
despised the vulgarian; none despised vulgarity more than Lincoln.
I have heard him tell at one time or another almost or quite all of the
stories he told during his Presidential term, and there were very few of
them which might not have been repeated in a parlor and none descended
to obscene, vulgar or profane expressions. I have never known a man of
purer instincts than Abraham Lincoln, and his appreciation of all that
was beautiful and good was of the highest order.
It was fortunate for Mr. Lincoln that he frequently sought relief from
the fearfully oppressive duties which bore so heavily upon him. He had
immediately about him a circle of men with whom he could be “at home” in
the White House any evening as he was with his old time friends on the
Illinois circuit.
David Davis was one upon whom he most relied as an adviser, and Leonard
Swett was probably one of his closest friends, while Ward Lamon, whom
he made Marshal of the District of Columbia to have him by his side,
was one with whom he felt entirely “at home.” Davis was of a more
sober order but loved Lincoln’s humor, although utterly incapable of a
humorous expression himself. Swett was ready with Lincoln to give and
take in storyland, as was Lamon, and either of them, and sometimes all
of them, often dropped in upon Lincoln and gave him an hour’s diversion
from his exacting cares. They knew that he needed it and they sought him
for the purpose of diverting him from what they feared was an excessive
strain.
His devotion to Lamon was beautiful. I well remember at Harrisburg
on the night of February 22, 1861, when at a dinner given by Governor
Curtin to Mr. Lincoln, then on his way to Washington, we decided,
against the protest of Lincoln, that he must change his route to
Washington and make the memorable midnight journey to the capital. It
was thought to be best that but one man should accompany him, and he
was asked to choose. There were present of his suite Colonel Sumner,
afterwards one of the heroic generals of the war, Norman B. Judd, who
was chairman of the Republican State Committee of Illinois, Colonel
Lamon and others, and he promptly chose Colonel Lamon, who alone
accompanied him on his journey from Harrisburg to Philadelphia and
thence to Washington.
Before leaving the room Governor Curtin asked Colonel Lamon whether he
was armed, and he answered by exhibiting a brace of fine pistols, a
huge bowie knife, a black jack, and a pair of brass knuckles. Curtin
answered: “You’ll do,” and they were started on their journey after all
the telegraph wires had been cut. We awaited through what seemed almost
an endless night, until the east was purpled with the coming of another
day, when Colonel Scott, who had managed the whole scheme, reunited
the wires and soon received from Colonel Lamon this dispatch: “Plums
delivered nuts safely,” which gave us the intensely gratifying
information that Lincoln had arrived in Washington.
Of all the Presidents of the United States, and indeed of all the great
statesmen who have made their indelible impress upon the policy of the
Republic, Abraham Lincoln stands out single and alone in his individual
qualities. He had little experience in statesmanship when he was called
to the Presidency. He had only a few years of service in the State
Legislature of Illinois, and a single term in Congress ending twelve
years before he became President, but he had to grapple with the gravest
problems ever presented to the statesmanship of the nation for solution,
and he met each and all of them in turn with the most consistent
mastery, and settled them so successfully that all have stood
unquestioned until the present time, and are certain to endure while the
Republic lives.
In this he surprised not only his own cabinet and the leaders of his
party who had little confidence in him when he first became President,
but equally surprised the country and the world.
He was patient, tireless and usually silent when great conflicts raged
about him to solve the appalling problems which were presented at
various stages of the war for determination, and when he reached his
conclusion he was inexorable. The wrangles of faction and the jostling
of ambition were compelled to bow when Lincoln had determined upon his
line of duty.
He was much more than a statesman; he was one of the most sagacious
politicians I have ever known, although he was entirely unschooled in
the machinery by which political results are achieved. His judgment of
men was next to unerring, and when results were to be attained he
knew the men who should be assigned to the task, and he rarely made a
mistake.
I remember one occasion when he summoned Colonel Forney and myself to
confer on some political problem, he opened the conversation by saying:
“You know that I never was much of a conniver; I don’t know the methods
of political management, and I can only trust to the wisdom of leaders
to accomplish what is needed.”
Lincoln’s public acts are familiar to every schoolboy of the nation, but
his personal attributes, which are so strangely distinguished from the
attributes of other great men, are now the most interesting study
of young and old throughout our land, and I can conceive of no more
acceptable presentation to the public than a compilation of anecdotes
and incidents pertaining to the life of the greatest of all our
Presidents.