Upon this record and in the faith of this purpose we go to the country.

LINCOLN’S BEGINNINGS

[Address delivered September 4, 1916, on the acceptance of a deed of gift to the Nation, by the Lincoln Farm Association, of the Lincoln Birthplace Farm, at Hodgenville, Kentucky.]

No more significant memorial could have been presented to the nation than this.  It expresses so much of what is singular and noteworthy in the history of the country; it suggests so many of the things that we prize most highly in our life and in our system of government.  How eloquent this little house within this shrine is of the vigor of democracy!  There is nowhere in the land any home so remote, so humble, that it may not contain the power of mind and heart and conscience to which nations yield and history submits its processes.  Nature pays no tribute to aristocracy, subscribes to no creed of caste, renders fealty to no monarch or master of any name or kind.  Genius is no snob.  It does not run after titles or seek by preference the high circles of society.  It affects humble company as well as great.  It pays no special tribute to universities or learned societies or conventional standards of greatness, but serenely chooses its own comrades, its own haunts, its own cradle even, and its own life of adventure and of training.  Here is proof of it.  This little hut was the cradle of one of the great sons of men, a man of singular, delightful, vital genius who presently emerged upon the great stage of the nation’s history, gaunt, shy, ungainly, but dominant and majestic, a natural ruler of men, himself inevitably the central figure of the great plot.  No man can explain this, but every man can see how it demonstrates the vigor of democracy, where every door is open, in every hamlet and countryside, in city and wilderness alike, for the ruler to emerge when he will and claim his leadership in the free life.  Such are the authentic proofs of the validity and vitality of democracy.

Here, no less, hides the mystery of democracy.  Who shall guess this secret of nature and providence and a free polity?  Whatever the vigor and vitality of the stock from which he sprang, its mere vigor and soundness do not explain where this man got his great heart that seemed to comprehend all mankind in its catholic and benignant sympathy, the mind that sat enthroned behind those brooding, melancholy eyes, whose vision swept many an horizon which those about him dreamed not of,—­that mind that comprehended what it had never seen, and understood the language of affairs with the ready ease of one to the manner born,—­or that nature which seemed in its varied richness to be the familiar of men of every way of life.  This is the sacred mystery of democracy, that its richest fruits spring up out of soils which no man has prepared and in circumstances amidst which they are the least expected.  This is a place alike of mystery and of reassurance.