The following autumn, {after the battle of Gettysburg} the Cemetery Commission decided to dedicate the ground, and invited Edward Everett, the most famous orator in the US to deliver the address.
Formal invitations to attend the exercises were sent to the President, to the Cabinet, to General Meade, to all the members of both houses of Congress, to various distinguished citizens, and to the members of the diplomatic corps. Very few of these people accepted; many didn't acknowledge the invitation.
The committee had not the least idea that the President would come. In fact, they had not even troubled to write him a personal invitation. He got merely a printed one. They imagined that his secretaries might drop it in the waste-basket without even showing it to Lincoln.
So when he wrote saying he would be present, the committee was astonished. And a bit embarrassed. What should they do? Ask him to speak? Some argued that he was too busy for that, that he couldn't possibly find time to prepare. Others frankly asked, "Well, even if he had the time, has he the ability?" The doubted it.
{...couple of pages of details that I'm too lazy to type...}
Edward Everett, the selected orator of the occasion, made two mistakes at Gettysburg. Both bad - and both uncalled for. First he arrived an hour late; and, secondly, he spoke for two hours.
Lincoln had read Everett's oration and when he saw that the speaker was nearing his close, he knew his time was coming, grew nervous, twisted in his chair, drew his manuscript from the pocket of his Prince Albert coat, put on his old-fashioned glasses, and quickly refreshed his memory.
Presently he stepped forward, manuscript in hand, and delivered his little address in two minutes.
Did his audience realize, that soft November afternoon, that they were listening to the greatest speech that had ever fallen from human lips up to that time? No, most of his hearers were merely curious; they had never seen nor heard a President of the United States, they strained their necks to looks at Lincoln, and were surprised to discover that such a tall man had such a high, thin voice, and that he spoke with a Southern accent. They had forgotten that he was born a Kentuckian and that he had retained the intonation of his native State; and about the time they felt he was getting through with his introduction and ready to launch into his speech - he sat down.
What! Had he forgotten? Or was it really all he had to say? People were too surprised and disappointed to applaud.
