Badress delivered at the dedication of the Remetery at Gettysbring.

Four scow and seven years ago our fathers brought forth tion, conceived in Liberty,

ow this continent, a new na

and dedicated

to the proposition that all men are cres

atca

equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, cu testing whether that nation, or any mater po conceived and to dedicated, canlong englure, Me and met on a great battle field of that war. We have come to dedicats a portion of that peld, as a final resting "place for those who here gaver their lives that that nation might lives. To is atten gether fitting and proper that we should do this,

But, in a

а

langer sanse, we can not drdis

cats- we can not consecrate we can pots

hallow thes grounds, the brave mew, his ing and dead, who struggles here, have cows secrated it, for above our, •poor power to adds or detract, The world will little nots, how long remember what we pay here; but to can never forget what they did her. To is for as the living, nother, to be dedicated here to unfinished work which they who fou= gho her have thus far so nobly advanced, To is rather for us to be here dedication to

the

the

we

great task remaining before us that from these honores Lead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the fast full measure of devotion_that here highly resolve that these dead shalls have drew in vain that this nation, under God, shall have as new birth of fres prom- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not pers ish from the earth.

Abraham Lincoln.

November 19. 1.863.

whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting-place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do

this.

we can

"But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate not consecrate · we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us - that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion; that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain; that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom; and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth."

The classical, lasting qualities of this brief address are no longer subject to doubt. They stand with the few best known pieces of English prose. The last phrase is one that the world had been working at, and Lincoln had marked something very much like it in one of Theodore Parker's lectures; but it was chosen for this final place

with literary skill, and the whole address, which has no other echo in it, is too nobly right to gain by praise. Nothing could prove how thoroughly the man of the people could be the man of taste; how the absolute Democrat could perfectly speak the highest language of literary simplicity. Nothing seems too ripe or cultivated for him, just as nothing seems too humble or crude to deserve his fellowship. With the highest he never entirely lost the air of familiarity; when easily meeting the lowest it was always with an inalienable dignity. How different, it might be natural to exclaim, the Lincoln who penned these lines from the Lincoln who listened to Lamon's songs; yet the surprise would be as shallow as it would be natural. He was a man, and deemed nothing human foreign to him; yet his soul dwelt alone, “silent upon a peak in Darien." This solitary greatness, this elevation and distinction in the midst of unconventionality and equality, are well set in the outer habits of his life. A French marquis has left this singularly vivid impression of him. "He wittingly laughed either at what was being said to him, or at what he said himself. But all of a sudden he would retire within himself; then he would close his eyes and all his features would at once bespeak a kind of sadness as indescribable as it was deep. After a while, as though it were by an effort of his will, he would

shake off this mysterious weight under which he seemed bowed; his generous and open disposition would again reappear. In one evening I happened to count over twenty of these alternations and contrasts."

One of the last acts of the year 1863 showed the President's never sleeping wish for leniency. To his annual message to Congress he added, unexpectedly to everybody, a proclamation granting amnesty to all rebels, barring certain classes, who would take a simple oath to support the Constitution, the Union, and the legislation and proclamations concerning slavery. By the same proclamation one-tenth of the voters in a seceded state were given the right, after taking and keeping the oath, to reëstablish a state government. Almost immediately Congress showed displeasure at the President's undertaking reconstruction alone, it being uncertain which branch of the government had the better right to accomplish that duty. Naturally also many people felt sternness where Lincoln felt none. His constant desire for compensation to the slaveholders may be contrasted with the sentiment voiced even by so gentle a soul as Emerson:

66 Pay ransom to the owner,

Ay, fill it up to the brim !

Who is the owner? The slave is owner,