Feb. 17 2011 12:00 AM

MSU professor Ron Dorr analyzes the text of a stirring speech

(Editor's note: With Presidents' Day coming up, Ron Dorr, Professor of Rhetoric and Humanities at Michigan state University's James Madison College, reflects on the text of Abraham Lincoln's farewell speech, which was given Feb. 11, 1861.)

hundred fifty years ago this month, Abraham Lincoln gave what I consider his
finest address. It was more
personal and moving than even his best letters of condolence. It was as humane and affirming, amid
loss, as the celebrated Gettysburg Address and Second Inaugural Address. It was a model of leave-taking.

speech was his farewell address, spoken before 1,000 of his friends and fel-
low citizens of Springfield, Illinois, on February 11, 1861. Three versions of the speech appeared
immediately. One was probably the
closest to Lincoln’s actual words — published in the Illinois State Journal. Another was published in Harper’s
Weekly. The version familiar to us
was dictated to his secretary, John Nicolay, shortly after the train had left,
winding its way 1,904 miles to Washington, D. C.

is the revised text: “My
Friends — No one, not in my situation, can appreciate my feeling of sadness at
this parting. To this place, and
the kindness of these people, I owe everything. Here I have lived a quarter of a century, and have passed
from a young to an old man. Here
my children have been born, and one is buried. I now leave, not knowing when, or whether ever I may return, with a task before me
greater than that which rested upon Washington. Without the assistance of that Diving Being, who ever
attended him, I cannot succeed. With that assistance I cannot fail. Trusting in Him, who can go with me, and remain with you and
be every where for good, let us confidently hope that all will yet be
well. To His care commending you,
as I hope in your prayers you will commend me, I bid you an affectionate

to a neighbor, the President-elect’s “breast heaved with emotion and he could
scarcely command his feelings sufficiently to commence.” For a man not often given to
self-disclosure, Lincoln spoke in first-person singular and in revealing
ways. In his spoken remarks, the
fifth sentence was this: “To you,
dear friends, I owe all that I have, all that I am.” In the revised version, however, the second sentence reads
thus: “To this place, and the
kindness of these people, I owe everything.” The audience has become third-person, not second-person
“you.” Already, on the train that
had just pulled out of Springfield, he was emotionally distancing himself from
Springfield, his friends, and his neighbors. He was already moving from the past — memories of 25 years
and an emotional parting—into an uncertain future that would call on the
resources of God as well as the Springfield he was leaving behind.

words were characteristically brief, humane, and hopeful. The sentiments of departing are often
deep and ambiguous. “Parting is
all we know of heaven,” Emily Dickinson wrote, “And all we need of hell.” Here the sentiments include deep
sadness, gratitude, friendship, devotion, trust, reverence, yet uncertainty
about the future. The subjects
include birth and death, marriage and the family, aging, American history,
patriotism, religious faith, prayer, separation, grief, and farewell. Such sentiments and subjects can lend
themselves to hackneyed expression.

such emotional matter, however, Lincoln has brought a clear mind and rhetorical skill. The expression was
deeply emotional. In the midst of
a disintegrating Union, Lincoln admitted his own limitations, need for support
from the American people, and ultimate reliance on God. All three were a foretaste of what he
would say in his trip to the nation’s capital.

The Farewell Address is also a
rhetorical gem. The revised
version contains nine sentences totaling 150 words. Sentences vary. The polished version contains four simple sentences, one compound
sentence, and four complex sentences. It includes three loose sentences, three periodic
sentences, and three balanced sentences. Sentence length varies from 6 to 27 words. Modifiers or qualifiers, not the subject, often begin his

Parallelism — repeating certain parts
of speech while changing the words — stands out: verbs (“have lived” and “have passed”), adverbs, adjectives,
prepositional phrases, and introducers of a subordinate clause. To such standard parallelism, Lincoln
adds antithesis: “Here my
children have born, and one is buried.” In the last sentence, Lincoln achieves a chiasmus, or inverted
parallelism: “To His care [I am]
commending you, as I hope in your prayers you will commend me.” Staircase, or step parallelism occurs
in sentence eight as Lincoln moves outward from himself (“go with me”) to his audience
(“remain with you”) and God’s presence everywhere (“be every where for good”).

The movement of the entire piece is
that of increasing breadth and intensity. Lincoln lingers on the past (sentences 2-4), captures the poignancy of
the present (sentences 1 and 5), and shifts into the future, which was most
pressing on his mind (sentences 6-9). The trinity of time is especially apparent in sentences 5 and 8. Each step of the journey is more and
more significant: present pain,
past consolation, present uncertainty, and future reliance on Almighty
God. Coupled with the recurring
parallelism and contrast between past associations and future uncertainties,
Lincoln’s expanding vision and trinity of time provide all the coherence needed

Most of this variety, parallelism,
and coherence is unobtrusive. Lincoln’s wording does not call attention to itself. Who notices the iambic meter in much of
sentences 1, 3, and 8? Powerful
emotions prevail, restrained, even constrained, by Lincoln’s mind, which has
balanced thought and feeling.

The Lincoln we know as master
rhetorician as well as president and world statesman was already emerging a day
before his 52nd birthday.