Lincoln's Birthday — Inside the Classic

Diction and the Construction of Lincoln's Voice

The excerpts reveal a deliberate contrast in diction between Lincoln's own writing and the later tributes. In his autobiographical sketch, Lincoln uses plain, understated language: he describes his education as "defective" and notes that he "never had a day's schooling" after a certain age. This self-effacing tone recurs in the anecdote "How Lincoln and Judge B—— Swapped Horses," where Lincoln's dialogue is colloquial and direct. By contrast, the tributes—such as those by Disraeli and John Stuart Mill—employ formal, elevated rhetoric. Disraeli speaks of "something so homely and so innocent" in Lincoln's character, while Mill calls him "the great citizen." The anthology thus juxtaposes Lincoln's own plainspokenness with the grandiloquence of his admirers, highlighting how his reputation was shaped by both his words and others'.

Recurring Imagery of Modesty and Domesticity

Several selections in the anthology emphasize Lincoln's modesty and domestic life. The poem "Abraham Lincoln" by Florence E. Pratt describes children bringing garlands "of blue, and white, and red" to strew before the dead, and locates Lincoln's grave not "beneath no mighty dome" but "in his modest home" and "the churchyard where his children rest." This imagery of a humble, family-centered burial recurs in Walt Whitman's "O Captain! My Captain!" and "Hushed be the Camps To-day," where Lincoln is mourned as a paternal figure. The anthology's structure reinforces this: the section "In the White House" includes Nora Perry's "Abraham Lincoln's Christmas Gift," a fictional piece that domesticates Lincoln by placing him in a holiday setting. The cumulative effect is a portrait of Lincoln as a man whose greatness is inseparable from his ordinariness.

Structural Juxtaposition of Genres

Schauffler's editorial choices create a deliberate interplay between genres. The table of contents shows that the anthology moves from Lincoln's own autobiography (a first-person narrative) to a "Brief Summary" by Osborn H. Oldroyd (third-person factual), then to anecdotal pieces like "Abe Lincoln's Honesty" and "Choosing Abe Lincoln Captain." Later sections mix poetry (Whittier's "The Proclamation"), oratory (Garfield's "The Emancipation"), and fiction (Perry's story). This generic variety means that Lincoln is presented simultaneously as a historical agent, a subject of legend, and a literary character. The inclusion of foreign tributes—from British politicians and a Portuguese peer—extends the perspective beyond American borders, framing Lincoln as a global symbol. The anthology thus becomes a meta-commentary on how different forms of writing construct public memory.

The Role of Anecdote in Shaping Character

The anthology relies heavily on anecdotes to convey Lincoln's character. Pieces like "Young Lincoln's Kindness of Heart" and "How Lincoln Took his Altitude" present brief, almost folkloric episodes that illustrate his honesty, humor, and compassion. These anecdotes often hinge on a single action or remark, such as Lincoln walking miles to return a small overpayment. The editor's inclusion of such material alongside more formal essays suggests that Lincoln's moral stature was understood through everyday incidents as much as through policy. The anecdote "Choosing Abe Lincoln Captain" shows him being selected by his peers for a role, reinforcing the theme of democratic leadership. This reliance on anecdotal evidence gives the anthology a intimate, conversational quality, even when the subject is national tragedy.

Readers approaching Lincoln's Birthday should attend to the editorial architecture: the sequence of pieces is not chronological alone but thematic, building from personal origins to public legacy. The anthology rewards attention to how different authors handle the same material—compare, for instance, Whitman's elegiac tone with Beecher's oratorical grief. The collection is best read as a document of early twentieth-century commemorative culture, revealing which aspects of Lincoln's life and character were deemed most worthy of remembrance.

There’s something about gathering Lincoln’s words—Whitman’s grief, Emerson’s steadiness—that feels like sitting with old friends. It makes me think of quieter corners in other books, where character isn’t grand but stubbornly human. I found that same hush in Some Eccentrics & a Woman — A Closer Reading, as if memory itself were leaning closer to listen.