On this
date, May 22, in 1849, Abraham Lincoln became the only U.S. president ever
issued a patent. His invention, which was never manufactured, was a device to
lift boats over shoals and other obstacles in a river. The invention was rooted
in the two trips Lincoln took as a young man down the Mississippi from Illinois
to New Orleans. The second trip, in 1831, was made on a flatboat built by Lincoln
and a friend. By this point in our history we are surprised to learn a
president is equipped to do anything other than collect votes and burnish his
reputation. I suspect we haven’t yet taken Lincoln’s full measure.
In his
1952 biography (my copy I purchased years ago in the gift shop in the Lincoln
Memorial), Benjamin P. Thomas writes: “Behind the solemn, furrowed countenance
of Abraham Lincoln was an inquisitive mind. It ranged over the abstract and the
infinite, the absolute and the immediate. It was philosophical, and at the same
time intensely practical. On the practical level Lincoln’s curiosity directed
itself, among other things, to mechanical devices.” That Lincoln, along with
his other virtues, ranks among the nation’s greatest writers of prose should
likewise not surprise us. Genius is always unknowable, no matter how much we
think we know. Daniel Mark Epstein writes in The Lincolns: Portrait of a Marriage (2009):
“He was a
secretive man, who kept his own counsel. He was an ambitious man of humble
origins, with colossal designs on the future. And it would always be
advantageous not to be closely known, never to be transparent. Passing a farmer
on a dray, he would tip his hat and grin. Everybody knew him. Nobody knew him.
He would play the fool, the clown, the melancholy poet dying for love, the
bumpkin. He would take the world by stealth and not by storm. He would disarm
enemies by his apparent naïveté, by seeming pleasantly harmless. He would go to
such lengths in making fun of his own appearance that others felt obliged to
defend it.”
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