For a century or more, generations of Americans were taught to be like Lincoln - forbearing, kind, principled, resolute - but what we've really wanted is for Lincoln to be like us, and this has never been truer than the present day. Lincoln hasn't been forgotten, but he's shrunk. From the enormous figure of the past he's been reduced to a hobbyist's eccentricity, a charming obsession shared by a self-selected subculture, like quilting or Irish step dancing. He has been detached from the national patrimony, if we can be said to have a national patrimony any longer. He is no longer our common possession. That earlier Lincoln, that large Lincoln, seems to be slipping away, a misty figure, incapable of rousing a reaction from anyone but buffs.
Or that's what I had assumed, anyway. Then one wintry morning a while back I fetched the local paper from the front stoop and saw a headline: "Lincoln Statue Stirs Outrage in Richmond."
-Land of Lincoln
On an April evening 144 years ago, Abraham Lincoln was shot by John Wilkes Booth at Ford's Theatre. He had been enjoying a comedy called Our American Cousin. Booth, an accomplished actor who knew the play well, purposely timed his shot to a laugh line. The wound was not immediately fatal. As Booth jumped down to the stage (allegedly shouting Sic semper tyrannis - Thus always to tyrants) and made his escape, people gathered to tend to their fallen leader. He was eventually moved to the boardinghouse across the street, where the bed in which he lay was far too small for him, as most beds of that time would have been. The doctors in attendance knew there was no hope, but nevertheless continued to try to relieve his pain (particularly the swelling). Lincoln died the next morning.
It was a climatic moment in history, seemingly more appropriate to Shakespearean drama than American politics (no accident, given Booth's career). And yet, along with the Civil War itself, it happened quite a long time ago. People generally seem to remember Lincoln fondly, which is undoubtedly tied to his martyrdom in death. Many people don't think of Lincoln at all, I would imagine. So it may come as a surprise that he has the ability to rile some up.
Andrew Ferguson discovered as much when he picked up the newspaper mentioned above, and later traveled to Richmond to talk to the people protesting the placement of a Lincoln statue in their city. People had placards ("Jefferson Davis Was Our President"). They sang "Dixie" - a song that Lincoln enjoyed very much, actually. No mention as to whether or not they knew that. Lincoln may have died well over 100 years ago, but the memory of his actions as president was still fresh to these protestors.
I could spend an entire review just on that first chapter of the book. Like Ferguson himself, I'm a bit of a Lincoln buff. I'm far from an expert, but he's someone I generally enjoy reading about*. I wrote the paragraph on Lincoln's death from memory (though I did have to double-check that it was Ford's Theatre and not Ford's Theater). In college, I took an entire class on the Civil War and it was hands-down my favorite class. A book on Lincoln in modern life is right up my alley, but I daresay it's an entertaining read for anyone who enjoys learning about different parts of American society.
Ferguson discovers that Lincoln means many things to many people. Even the buffs express their love differently - the collectors, the scholars, the impersonators (they call themselves presenters). He travels through the Midwest, visiting many sites that were meaningful in Lincoln's early life, and tries to understand Lincoln in how he is interpreted at each place. He tries to rediscover the Lincoln he loved as a boy, and who is more unknowable than ever.
Although I admire Lincoln greatly, I do feel in some way for the skeptics, who are chagrined at what they perceive as hero-worship of a man who was undoubtedly controversial while in office. I feel like it's common knowledge at this point that it's incredibly oversimplified to say that anyone was fighting for or against slavery exclusively during the Civil War. Perhaps I'm wrong, and everyone thinks that The Great Emancipator had just been looking for an opportunity to free the slaves. That every Union man was an abolitionist and every Confederate was a slave owner. I hope that we as a country know that things were not nearly so clear cut. Books like Ferguson's remind me of that famous quotation by William Faulkner: "The past is not dead. In fact, it's not even past."
Up next: I've started Brief Interviews with Hideous Men by David Foster Wallace, but as it's bit dense, I wouldn't be surprised if I took a break to read the 3rd Sookie Stackhouse book.
*Further reading:
Confederates in the Attic by Tony Horwitz. Similar to Ferguson's book, but broader in scope. Horwitz examines the way the Civil War is still being fought today, from Confederate flag controversies to reenactments. I loved this book when I read it a few years ago.
Manhunt by James Swanson. The definitive book that charts the immediate aftermath of the Lincoln assassination. I felt like it really pulled me into the period - like an old-time episode of 24.
The March by E.L. Doctorow. A beautifully imagined fictionalization of Sherman's march through Georgia.
March by Geraldine Brooks. Not to be confused with Doctorow's book, March tells the story of the patriarch from Louisa May Alcott's Little Women and what he endures before coming home to his family. It won the 2006 Pulitzer Prize.
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