Is not much of it
the reason, I suppose, there
is not much of me
In reply to a request for an autobiographical statement, Abraham Lincoln sent the following.
Mr. Lincoln wrote in a letter accompanying the autobiography, “There is not much of it, for the reason, I suppose, that there is not much of me.”
I was born Feb. 12, 1809, in Hardin County, Kentucky. My parents were both born in Virginia, of undistinguished families– second families, perhaps I should say. My mother, who died in my tenth year, was of a family of the name of Hanks, some of whom now reside in Adams and others in Macon Counties, Illinois. My paternal grandfather, Abraham Lincoln, emigrated from Rockingham County, Virginia, to Kentucky, about 1781 or 2, where, a year or two later, he was killed by indians, not in battle, but by stealth, when he was laboring to open a farm in the forest. His ancestors, who were Quakers, went to Virginia from Berks County, Pennsylvania. An effort to identify them with the New-England family of the same name ended in nothing more definite, than a similarity of Christian names in both families, such as Enoch, Levi, Mordecai, Solomon, Abraham, and the like.
My father, at the death of his father, was but six years of age; and he grew up, litterally [sic] without education. He removed from Kentucky to what is now Spencer County, Indiana, in my eighth year. We reached our new home about the time the State came into the Union. It was a wild region, with many bears and other wild animals, still in the woods. There I grew up. There were some schools, so called; but no qualification was ever required of a teacher beyond “readin, writin, and cipherin” to the Rule of Three. If a straggler supposed to understand latin happened to sojourn in the neighborhood, he was looked upon as a wizzard [sic]. There was absolutely nothing to excite ambition for education. Of course when I came of age I did not know much. Still somehow, I could read, write, and cipher to the Rule of Three; but that was all. I have not been to school since. The little advance I now have upon this store of education, I have picked up from time to time under the pressure of necessity.
I was raised to farm work, which I continued till I was twenty-two. At twenty one I came to Illinois, and passed the first year in Macon County. Then I got to New-Salem (at that time in Sangamon, now in Menard County), where I remained a year as a sort of Clerk in a store. Then came the Black-Hawk war; and I was elected a Captain of Volunteers–a success which gave me more pleasure than any I have had since. I went the campaign, was elated, ran for the Legislature the same year (1832) and was beaten–the only time I ever have been beaten by the people. The next, and three succeeding biennial elections, I was elected to the Legislature. I was not a candidate afterwards. During this Legislative period I had studied law, and removed to Springfield to practise it. In 1846 I was once elected to the lower House of Congress. Was not a candidate for re-election. From 1849 to 1854, both inclusive, practiced law more assiduously than ever before. Always a whig in politics, and generally on the whig electoral tickets, making active canvasses–I was losing interest in politics, when the repeal of the Missouri Compromise aroused me again. What I have done since then is pretty well known.
If any personal description of me is thought desirable, it may be said, I am, in height, six feet, four inches, nearly; lean in flesh, weighing on an average one hundred and eighty pounds; dark complexion, with coarse black hair, and grey eyes–no other marks or brands recollected.
That line, “What I have done since then is pretty well known.”
Did anyone ever say so much, say so little.
The Gettysburg Address is 300 words and sums up the Civil War.
In his notebook, Mr. Twain recorded his thoughts on Lincoln’s 2nd Inaugural Address.
Twain wrote, “Eloquence Simplicity — Lincoln’s “With malice toward none, with charity for all, & doing the right as God gives us to see the right, all may yet be well. — Very simple & beautiful.”
I guess as President’s go, sometimes we get who we need,
Sometimes we get who we deserve.
And as Barbara Holland wrote in Hail to the Chiefs: Or How to Tell Your Polks from Your Tylers, “Mostly the democratic process works about as well as could be expected, but every so often it stirs up something from the soft bottom of the gene pool, and everyone goes “Yecch! What is it?” and then acts all injured innocence, as if they’d never marked a ballot in all there born days.”
Ms. Holland was writing about Warren G. Harding.
President Harding may not have been first in line in the brains list but he was smart enough to say. “I am not fit for this office and never should have here.”
Where is Mr. Lincoln today?
Our country turn’s it lonely eyes to him.
No Haiku For You 