writings of his later years have become classics. And the difference
does not turn on subject-matter. All the ideas of his late writings had
been formulated in the earlier. The difference is purely literary. The
earlier writings were keen, powerful, full of character, melodious,
impressive. The later writings have all these qualities, and in
addition, that constant power to awaken the imagination, to carry an
idea beyond its own horizon into a boundless world of imperishable
literary significance, which power in argumentative prose is beauty. And
how did Lincoln attain this? That he had been maturing from within the
power to do this, one is compelled by the analogy of his other mental
experiences to believe. At the same time, there can be no doubt who
taught him the trick, who touched the secret spring and opened the new
door to his mind. It was Seward. Long since it had been agreed between
them that Seward was to be Secretary of State.(9) Lincoln asked him
to criticize his inaugural. Seward did so, and Lincoln, in the main,
accepted his criticism. But Seward went further. He proposed a new
paragraph. He was not a great writer and yet he had something of that
third thing which Lincoln hitherto had not exhibited. However, in
pursuing beauty of statement, he often came dangerously near to mere
rhetoric; his taste was never sure; his sense of rhythm was inferior;
the defects of his qualities were evident. None the less, Lincoln saw at
a glance that if he could infuse into Seward's words his own more robust
qualities, the result--'would be a richer product than had ever issued
from his own qualities as hitherto he had known them. He effected
this transmutation and in doing so raised his style to a new range of
effectiveness. The great Lincoln of literature appeared in the first
inaugural and particularly in that noble passage which was the work
of Lincoln and Seward together. In a way it said only what Lincoln had
already said--especially in the speech at Harrisburg--but with what a
difference!