Connections/Lincoln and the Civil War

I'm Harold Holzer, I'm the Senior Vice President for External Affairs at the Met, and I also write books about Abraham Lincoln and the Civil War.

I first became interested in Abraham Lincoln by accident. I was a student in the fifth grade in Queens, my romantic beginnings, and we were assigned to pick a name from our teacher's hat, literally.

I picked Lincoln, needless to say, and my friend who was right behind me picked out Genghis Khan, and he became a rock and roll promoter, so you never know. These are very powerful influences.

I start always with the first works of art for which Abraham Lincoln sat. He posed for a life mask in Chicago in the spring of 1860, and the sculptor put straws in his nostrils and covered his face in plaster, and the plaster hardened really tight. He couldn't get the mask off of Lincoln's face, and Lincoln motioned that he would do it, and he pulled and pulled and pulled hairs in his temple out

with the mask. But it brought tears to his eyes, and the sculptor remembered that he was the first subject he made cry. After Lincoln was nominated for the presidency two months later, the sculptor came to Springfield, Illinois

to cast Lincoln's hands in plaster. But, his right hand was so swollen from the thousands of handshakes, that it swelled beyond recognition. So Volk said, "Maybe you should hold something."

The next thing Volk heard was some sawing coming from the wood shed. Lincoln was actually sawing a broom handle.

So the Met owns the right hand in bronze, and it shows the swollen hand. And recently

we acquired a photograph that was made at exactly this same time. If you look very carefully for Lincoln's

right hand, you'll see he's covering it with his left hand. It's really unique and it hearkens back to that transcendent moment when Lincoln went from dark horse to nominee and likely president in just a few days.

Of course the country was changing rapidly, and we talk about the political climate being so heated these days. It was much more heated in 1859, 1860.

Martin Johnson Heade's Approaching Thunder Storm is often described as a scene that he had witnessed in New England, but in fact, it's also a reflection of the portent of war.

The Met collection also reflects the efforts of the common soldier and their struggles to preserve the union and end slavery.

One of the most extraordinary is called A Little Bit of War History, painted right after the war, but showing the evolution of the life of one African American and his progress through the war

and a reminder that the end of slavery, the beginnings of equal rights, were not achieved simply by the stroke of Lincoln's pen, but by African Americans fighting

for their their own freedom. So this was a moment when black contributions were recognized, but it was a brief moment in time.

On the other side of the coin we have The Veteran in a New Field. You get the feeling, or I do, that the wheat is a symbol for the return to prosperity. Yet at the same time

he's using a scythe, and one cannot help think about the grim reaper. And that reminds at least this viewer of the fact that so much blood had been shed in the war to make this renewal possible.

But just as a reminder that the experience of renewal doesn't apply to everybody: Eakins' painting of what he calls a Negro Boy Dancing. You look at three generations of a family. What fascinates me is that in the background is

a medallion portrait of Abraham Lincoln and his son, Tad. And we know that many African American homes had pictures of Lincoln. But what is it saying to us that it's not just Lincoln, it's Lincoln and his son? Is it saying that

African American multigenerational opportunity is not the same as presidential white opportunity? Maybe I'm reading too much into it, but the inclusion of Lincoln is a symbol both of appreciation and limitation.

Talking It Over is not a Civil War painting and it's not a Lincoln painting. You've got two people discussing life. But darned if the

older fellow on the left is not the spitting image of George Washington.

And on the right, the younger, bigger, and maybe a little bit more vigorous farmer bears an astonishing resemblance to Abraham Lincoln.

To me it's about American history and its first hundred years.

These serious, reflective pieces, I think, they give assurance that this is something that's still in the public mind.

There was glory attached to the war, but at what incredible, unfathomable cost.

How long did it take us to deliver on the promise of equality and opportunity? The debate continues, and it's a good reminder to see it through the lens of

artistic tradition and experimentation.