Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing 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.
But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate—we can not consecrate—we can not 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.
—Abraham Lincoln
Lincoln’s first address in Gettysburg was even shorter than the one engraved on the walls of the Lincoln Memorial. On the eve of the dedication ceremonies, a group of well-wishers solicited him to say a few words. He declined, stating, as President, it’s important not to say anything when having nothing prepared to say: that is the only way to avoid saying something foolish. Considering this encounter, occurring the night before Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg Address, and considering the opportunity it presented to directly address reporters in the crowd, it’s remarkable Lincoln refrained from self-promotion, self-justification, and clarification of ‘his’ vision of liberty. The press captured this exchange between Lincoln and the well wishers and preserved it for us as an example of self-restraint, discernment, and wisdom. The Gettysburg address is already remarkably brilliant and brief. This story provides further proof that sometimes to ‘say more’ simply distracts attention from what has ‘been said.’