The Lincoln Memorial is probably the only one of Washington's many memorials, monuments and museums where history refuses to die. On this spot, it is very much a living thing, a place where power meets the people. Martin Luther King stood on these steps, unfolding his 'Dream' and changing a nation's conscience. President Nixon arrived one dawn in 1970 to talk to protesting students, when the dream became a nightmare over the war in Vietnam. And President Obama came here to make his inaugural speech, living proof that King's 'Dream' was no longer just a dream. The Lincoln Memorial, in short, is a short-circuit to the rewiring of American history.
Abe Lincoln would most certainly approve. The 16th President of the United States, he stood by the founding principles of the nation, that all men are created equal. Even to the point of conflict to uphold them, by standing up to the Southern states over slavery. He saw government as being 'of the people, by the people, for the people', all of them. Down the ages, the American people have listened, and come here to draw inspiration from his words. His two most famous speeches – the Gettysburg Address and the Second Inaugural Speech – are inscribed on the Memorial's Hall's huge walls.
The Memorial is indeed vast, a Doric temple whose pillars hold up a ceiling over 18 metres above. Abe Lincoln sits in its vast foyer, deep in thought and facing out towards the pillar of the Washington Monument – and the Capitol Hill behind. You could almost imagine that he's daring the ranks of today's politicians to be as bold and brave in the defence of freedom as he was. One of the most poignant places on the Memorial, though, isn't in this gigantic hall, but on the steps outside. And unless you're careful, you might just miss it.
On the 18th step down from Lincoln's statue, a few short lines start with 'I Have A Dream'. They mark the very spot where Martin Luther King addressed that rally in 1963 to a quarter of million people. He was shot days later. Stand there, close your eyes and you can almost hear the sound of a history that won't lay still.
