Carlyle once said to Holman Hunt: “I’m only a poor man, but I would give one third of what I possess for a veritable, contemporaneous representation of Jesus Christ. Had those carvers of marble chiseled a faithful statue of the Son of Man, as he called himself, and shown us what manner of man he was like, what his height, what his build, and what the features of his sorrow-marked face were, I for one would have thanked the sculptor with all the gratitude of my heart for that portrait as one of the most precious heirlooms of the ages.”  
Remarkable as it may seem, were it not for photography and one life mask, this, with equal truth, might be said of a man who, as the ages run, has hardly gone from among us.
 
Lincoln, one of the greatest of observers, was himself the least truly observed. God had built him in the backyard of the nation and there, wrapped in homely guise, had preserved and matured his pure humanity. He was heard, but seems rarely, if ever, to have been truly seen. The reports we have of him do not satisfy, do not justify, are inconsistent. The eastern, old-world eye could not read beyond the queer hat, bad tailoring, and boots you could not now give away—and he was so long he fairly had to stoop to look the little world in the face. Never has bad tailoring, homely, deferential manner, so completely hidden seer, jester, master of men, as did these simple accoutrements this first great gift of the West. But it is surprising that professional observers, artists and writers alike, have drawn and redrawn the untrue picture.
 
A great portrait is always full of compelling presence, more even than is seen in the original at all times, for a great portrait depicts great moments and carries the record of the whole man. It is, therefore, not enough to draw a mask.
 
Lincoln is a comfort and a reality, an example, a living inspiration to every mother and every son in America. No mask will satisfy us; we want to see what we care for; we want to feel the private conscience that became public conduct. We love this man, because he was all in all one of us and made all the world peers. Now we begin to see him truly. Within his coming the West has steadily rolled back the East, and of his ways the world has many. The silk hat, the tall figure, the swing, the language and manner have become American, and we all understand.
 
Official Washington was shocked by his address. Men, who could have given us master pictures of a master man, remained unconvinced until he had passed away. The great portrait was never drawn, and now it is too late; we must wade through mountains of material and by some strange divination find in fragments th............