Lincolns Inaugurals, Addresses and Letters | Page 5

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