Carlson
I consider myself fortunate to have lived part of my youth in Springfield, Illinois. Out of my grade-school window, I could see the old courthouse where Abraham Lincoln practiced law before going into politics.
When family and friends came to visit, we often took them to see Lincoln’s home or his grave. One of my favorite memories is going to New Salem, the small log-cabin community near Springfield, where young Lincoln lived and served as postmaster.
Lincoln’s memory seemed to be everywhere in my youth, and the story of his life has continued to inspire me through the years. Long after leaving Springfield, I continued to explore his life by visiting his birthplace in Kentucky, standing before his seated statue in Washington, D.C., and reading some of the numerous biographies written about him. One of my favorite books is Carl Sandburg’s work about Lincoln, a biography that approaches poetry at times with the beauty of Sandburg’s words.
To my delight, I was recently asked by one of the music professors at Franklin College to be the narrator for a performance of Aaron Copeland’s “Lincoln Portrait.” Although I knew of the piece of music, I found familiarizing myself with Copeland’s treatment of Lincoln to be an enriching experience.
Copeland composed the piece in 1943, which is significant. I’m sure that there were numerous pieces of music composed during World War II that celebrated democracy while fascism threatened the world, but Copeland chose to speak of democracy by reflecting on Lincoln.
A second notable feature of Copeland’s work is that the first seven minutes — the first half of the piece — is instrumental music without narration. Lincoln is treated initially not as an historical person with words to hear but as a feeling. The music moves back and forth from stirring and exuberant sound to soft reflective parts. This initial part captures the different sides to Lincoln’s character; on the one hand, the rail splitter and folksy storyteller and, on the other hand, the deep and often melancholic thinker who he was.
But the initial seven minutes of instrumental music can also be heard as a tribute to democracy. In 1943, the outcome of the war with fascism was still in doubt. The stirring portions of the introduction mirrored the need to come together to fight for democracy’s survival. The soft parts reflected the calm and stability of life for those of us privileged to live in a democracy.
The most impressive parts of “Lincoln Portrait” for me are the words of Lincoln and about Lincoln that Copeland chose to emphasize in the second half of the piece. Lincoln is one of America’s most complicated historical figures, and Copeland chose to portray him through four short excerpts from his numerous speeches. Talk about a challenge.
But I give Copeland an A for achieving his goal. The Lincoln who emerges from Copeland’s work still inspires us. As Martin Luther King, Jr. did later, Lincoln presented democracy not as a political option but as a fragile moral opportunity for all of humankind. America’s Civil War was not ultimately a fight between the North and the South, but rather another moment in the eternal struggle between right and wrong.
Copeland’s piece ends fittingly with words from Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address. Lincoln chose the occasion to honor not only the fallen Northern soldiers but all the “honored dead.” There is no hatred in this speech or in any of his speeches toward his numerous enemies. Instead, Lincoln asked that the sacrifice of all who died would lead to a commitment by both sides to a common goal — the preservation of government of the people, by the people, and for the people.
In this upcoming presidential election, let’s not evaluate candidates solely on how they stack up against their opponents. Let is compare candidates to Lincoln, for it is his commitment to democracy and his spirit of generosity that we need right now.
David Carlson of Franklin is a professor emeritus of philosophy and religion. Send comments to [email protected].
