Mr. Page Eaton, an old resident of Springfield, says: "Lincoln always
did his own marketing, even after he was elected President and before
he went to Washington. I used to see him at the butcher's or baker's
every morning, with his basket on his arm. He was kind and sociable,
and would always speak to everyone. He was so kind, so childlike, that
I don't believe there was one in the city who didn't love him as a
father or brother." "On a winter's morning," says Mr. Lamon, "he could
be seen wending his way to the market, with a basket on his arm and at
his side a little boy whose small feet rattled and pattered over the
ice-bound pavement, attempting to make up by the number of his short
steps for the long strides of his father. The little fellow jerked at
the bony hand which held his, and prattled and questioned, begged and
grew petulant, in a vain effort to make his father talk to him. But
the latter was probably unconscious of the other's existence, and
stalked on, absorbed in his own reflections. He wore on such occasions
an old gray shawl, rolled into a coil and wrapped like a rope around
his neck. The rest of his clothes were in keeping. 'He did not walk
cunningly--Indian-like--but cautiously and firmly.' His tread was even
and strong. He was a little pigeon-toed; and this, with another
peculiarity, made his walk very singular. He set his whole foot flat
on the ground, and in turn lifted it all at once--not resting
momentarily upon the toe as the foot rose nor upon the heel as it
fell. He never wore his shoes out at the heel and the toe, as most men
do, more than at the middle. Yet his gait was not altogether awkward,
and there was manifest physical power in his step. As he moved along
thus, silent and abstracted, his thoughts dimly reflected in his sharp
face, men turned to look after him as an object of sympathy as well as
curiosity. His melancholy, in the words of Mr. Herndon, '_dripped from
him_ as he walked.' If, however, he met a friend in the street, and
was roused by a hearty 'Good-morning, Lincoln!' he would grasp the
friend's hand with one or both of his own, and with his usual
expression of 'Howdy! howdy!' would detain him to hear a story;
something reminded him of it; it happened in Indiana, and it must be
told, for it was wonderfully pertinent. It was not at home that he
most enjoyed seeing company. He preferred to meet his friends
abroad,--on a street-corner, in an office, at the court-house, or
sitting on nail-kegs in a country store." Mrs. Lincoln experienced
great difficulty in securing the punctual attendance of her husband at
the family meals. Dr. Bateman has repeatedly seen two of the boys
pulling with all their might at his coat-tails, and a third pushing in
front, while _paterfamilias_ stood upon the street cordially shaking
the hand of an old acquaintance.
After his breakfast-hour, says Mr. Lamon, he would appear at his office
and go about the labors of the day with all his might, displaying
prodigious industry and capacity for continuous application, although he
never was a fast worker. Sometimes it happened that he came without his
breakfast; and then he would have in his hands a piece of cheese or
bologna sausage, and a few crackers, bought by the way. At such times he
did not speak to his partner, or his friends if any happened to be
present; the tears perhaps struggling into his eyes, while his pride was
struggling to keep them back. Mr. Herndon knew the whole story at a
glance. There was no speech between them, but neither wished the
visitors at the office to witness the scene. So Lincoln retired to the
back office while Mr. Herndon locked the front one and walked away with
the key in his pocket. In an hour or more the latter would return and
perhaps find Lincoln calm and collected. Otherwise he went out again and
waited until he was so. Then the office was opened and everything went
on as usual.
"His mind was filled with gloomy forebodings and strong apprehensions of
impending evil, mingled with extravagant visions of personal grandeur
and power. He never doubted for a moment that he was formed for some
'great or miserable end.' He talked about it frequently and sometimes
calmly. Mr. Herndon remembers many of these conversations in their
office at Springfield and in their rides around the circuit. Lincoln
said the impression had grown in him all his life; but Mr. Herndon
thinks it was about 1840 that it took the character of a 'religious
conviction.' He had then suffered much, and considering his
opportunities he had achieved great things. He was already a leader
among men, and a most brilliant career had been promised him by the
prophetic enthusiasm of many friends. Thus encouraged and stimulated,
and feeling himself growing gradually stronger and stronger in the
estimation of 'the plain people' whose voice was more potent than all
the Warwicks, his ambition painted the rainbow of glory in the sky,
while his morbid melancholy supplied the clouds that were to overcast
and obliterate it with the wrath and ruin of the tempest. To him it was
fate, and there was no escape or defense. The presentiment never
deserted him. It was as clear, as perfect, as certain as any image
conveyed by the senses. He had now entertained it so long that it was as
much a part of his nature as the consciousness of identity. All doubts
had faded away, and he submitted humbly to a power which he could
neither comprehend nor resist. He was to fall,--fall from a lofty place
and in the performance of a great work."
On one occasion Lincoln visited Chicago as counsel in a case in the
U.S. District Court. The Hon. N.B. Judd, an intimate friend, was also
engaged upon the case, and took Mr. Lincoln home with him as a guest.
The following account of this visit is given by Mrs. Judd in Oldroyd's
Memorial Album: "Mr. Judd had invited Mr. Lincoln to spend the evening
at our pleasant home on the shore of Lake Michigan. After tea, and until
quite late, we sat on the broad piazza, looking out upon as lovely a
scene as that which has made the Bay of Naples so celebrated. A number
of vessels were availing themselves of a fine breeze to leave the
harbor, and the lake was studded with many a white sail. I remember that
a flock of sea-gulls were flying along the beach, dipping their beaks
and white-lined wings in the foam that capped the short waves as they
fell upon the shore. Whilst we sat there the great white moon appeared
on the rim of the eastern horizon and slowly crept above the water,
throwing a perfect flood of silver light upon the dancing waves. The
stars shone with the soft light of a midsummer night, and the breaking
of the low waves upon the shore added the charm of pleasant sound to the
beauty of the night. Mr. Lincoln, whose home was far inland from the
great lakes, seemed greatly impressed with the wondrous beauty of the
scene, and carried by its impressiveness away from all thought of jars
and turmoil of earth. In that mild, pleasant voice, attuned to harmony
with his surroundings, as was his wont when his soul was stirred by
aught that was lovely or beautiful, Mr. Lincoln began to speak of the
mystery which for ages enshrouded and shut out those distant worlds
above us from our own; of the poetry and beauty which was seen and felt
by seers of old when they contemplated Orion and Arcturus as they
wheeled, seemingly around the earth, in their nightly course; of the
discoveries since the invention of the telescope, which had thrown a
flood of light and knowledge on what before was incomprehensible and
mysterious; of the wonderful computations of scientists who had measured
the miles of seemingly endless space which separated the planets in our
solar system from our central sun, and our sun from other suns. He
speculated on the possibilities of knowledge which an increased power of
the lens would give in the years to come. When the night air became too
chilling to remain longer on the piazza we went into the parlor. Seated
on the sofa, his long limbs stretching across the carpet and his arms
folded behind him, Mr. Lincoln went on to speak of other discoveries, of
the inventions which had been made during the long cycles of time lying
between the present and those early days when the sons of Adam began to
make use of material things about them and invent instruments of various
kinds in brass and gold and silver. He gave us a short but succinct
account of all the inventions referred to in the Old Testament, from the
time when Adam walked in the garden of Eden until the Bible record
ended, 600 B.C. I said, 'Mr. Lincoln, I did not know you were such a
Bible student.' He replied: 'I must be honest, Mrs. Judd, and tell you
just how I come to know so much about these early inventions.' He then
went on to say that in discussing with some friend the relative age of
the discovery and use of the precious metals he went to the Bible to
satisfy himself and became so interested in his researches that he made
memoranda of the different discoveries and inventions. Soon after, he
was invited to lecture before some literary society, I think in
Bloomington. The interest he had felt in the study convinced him that
the subject would interest others, and he therefore prepared and
delivered his lecture on The Age of Different Inventions. 'Of course,'
he added, 'I could not after that forget the order or time of such
discoveries and inventions.'"
In all the years that had passed since Lincoln left his father's humble
house, he had preserved an affectionate interest in the welfare of its
various members. He paid them visits whenever he could find opportunity,
and never failed to extend his aid and sympathy whenever needed. He had
risen to success in his profession, was widely known throughout his
section, and though still a poor man he had good prospects and
considerable influence. Yet he ever retained a considerate regard and
remembrance for the poor and obscure relatives he had left plodding in
the humble ways of life. He never assumed the slightest superiority to
them. Whenever, upon his circuit, he found time, he always visited them.
Countless times he was known to leave his companions at the village
hotel after a hard day's work in the court-room and spend the evening
with these old friends and companions of his humbler days. On one
occasion, when urged not to go, he replied, "Why, Aunt's heart would be
broken if I should leave town without calling upon her,"--yet he was
obliged to walk several miles to make the call. As his fortunes improved
he often sent money and presents to his father and step-mother, bought
land for them, and tried in every way to make them comfortable and
happy. The father was gratified at these marks of affection, and felt
great pride in the rising prosperity of his son. Mr. Herndon says that
"for years Lincoln supported or helped to support his aged father and
mother. It is to his honor that he dearly loved his step-mother, and it
is equally true that she idolized her step-son. He purchased a piece of
property in Coles County as a home for his father and mother, and had
it deeded in trust for their use and benefit."
In 1851 Lincoln's father died, at the age of seventy-three. The
following letter, written a few days before this event, reveals the
affectionate solicitude of the son:
Springfield, Jan. 12,1851.
DEAR BROTHER:--On the day before yesterday I received a letter from
Harriet, written at Greenup. She says she has just returned from
your house, and that father is very low and will hardly recover.
She also says that you have written me two letters, and that,
although you do not expect me to come now, you wonder that I do not
write. I received both your letters; and although I have not
answered them, it is not because I have forgotten them, or not been
interested about them, but because it appeared to me I could write
nothing which could do any good. You already know I desire that
neither father nor mother shall be in want of any comfort, either
in health or sickness, while they live; and I feel sure you have
not failed to use my name, if necessary, to procure a doctor or
anything else for father in his present sickness. My business is
such that I could hardly leave home now, if it were not, as it is,
that my wife is sick a-bed. I sincerely hope father may yet recover
his health; but, at all events, tell him to remember to call upon
and confide in our great and good and merciful Maker, who will not
turn away from him in any extremity. He notes the fall of a
sparrow, and numbers the hairs of our heads; and He will not forget
the dying man who puts his trust in Him. Say to him, that if we
could meet now it is doubtful whether it would not be more painful
than pleasant; but that if it be his lot to go now he will soon
have a joyous meeting with loved ones gone before, and where the
rest of us, through the help of God, hope ere long to join them.
Write me again when you receive this.
Affectionately,
A. LINCOLN.
The step-brother, John Johnston, to whom the foregoing letter is
addressed, was the cause of considerable anxiety to Lincoln. It was with
him that their parents resided, and frequent were his appeals to
Lincoln to extricate him from some pecuniary strait into which he had
fallen through his confirmed thriftlessness and improvidence. "John
Johnston," Mr. Herndon says, "was an indolent and shiftless man, one who
was 'born tired.' Yet he was clever, generous and hospitable." The
following document affords a hint of Lincoln's kindly patience as well
as of his capacity for sound practical advice when it was much needed:
DEAR JOHNSTON:--Your request for eighty dollars I do not think it
best to comply with now. At the various times when I have helped
you a little you have said to me, 'We can get along very well now';
but in a very short time I find you in the same difficulty again.
Now, this can only happen by some defect in your conduct. What that
defect is, I think I know. You are not lazy, and still you are an
idler. I doubt whether, since I saw you, you have done a good whole
day's work in any one day. You do not very much dislike to work,
and still you do not work much, merely because it does not seem to
you that you could get much for it. This habit of uselessly wasting
time is the whole difficulty; and it is vastly important to you,
and still more so to your children, that you should break the
habit. It is more important to them, because they have longer to
live, and can keep out of an idle habit before they are in it
easier than they can get out after they are in. You are now in need
of some money; and what I propose is that you shall go to work,
'tooth and nail,' for somebody who will give you money for it. Let
father and your boys take charge of things at home, prepare for a
crop, and make the crop, and you go to work for the best
money-wages, or in discharge of any debt you owe, that you can get;
and, to secure you a fair reward for your labor, I now promise you,
that, for every dollar you will, between this and the first of next
May, get for your own labor, either in money or as your own
indebtedness, I will then give you one other dollar. By this, if
you hire yourself at ten dollars a month, from me you will get ten
more, making twenty dollars a month for your work. In this I do not
mean you shall go off to St. Louis, or the lead-mines, or the
gold-mines in California; but I mean for you to go at it, for the
best wages you can get, close to home, in Coles County. Now, if you
will do this you will soon be out of debt, and, what is better, you
will have a habit that will keep you from getting in debt again.
But if I should now clear you out of debt, next year you would be
in just as deep as ever. You say you would almost give your place
in heaven for $70 or $80. Then you value your place in heaven very
cheap; for I am sure you can, with the offer I make, get the
seventy or eighty dollars for four or five months' work. You say,
if I will furnish you the money, you will deed me the land, and if
you don't pay the money back, you will deliver possession.
Nonsense! If you can't now live with the land, how will you then
live without it? You have always been kind to me, and I do not mean
to be unkind to you. On the contrary, if you will but follow my
advice, you will find it worth more than eighty times eighty
dollars to you.
Affectionately your brother,
A. LINCOLN.
In other letters he wrote even more sharply to his thriftless
step-brother.
Shelbyville, Nov. 4, 1851
DEAR BROTHER:--When I came into Charleston, day before yesterday, I
learned that you are anxious to sell the land where you live, and
move to Missouri. I have been thinking of this ever since, and
cannot but think such a notion is utterly foolish. What can you do
in Missouri better than here? Is the land any richer? Can you
there, any more than here, raise corn and wheat and oats without
work? Will any body there, any more than here, do your work for
you? If you intend to go to work, there is no better place than
right where you are; if you do not intend to go to work, you can
not get along anywhere. Squirming and crawling about from place to
place can do no good. You have raised no crop this year; and what
you really want is to sell the land, get the money and spend it.
Part with the land you have, and, my life upon it, you will never
after own a spot big enough to bury you in. Half of what you will
get for the land you will spend in moving to Missouri, and the
other half you will eat and drink and wear out, and no foot of
land will be bought. Now, I feel it is my duty to have no hand in
such a piece of foolery. I feel that it is so even on your own
account, and particularly on mother's account. The eastern forty
acres I intend to keep for mother while she lives; if you will not
cultivate it, it will rent for enough to support her; at least, it
will rent for something. Her dower in the other two forties she can
let you have, and no thanks to me. Now, do not misunderstand this
letter. I do not write it in any unkindness. I write it in order,
if possible, to get you to face the truth, which truth is, you are
destitute because you have idled away all your time. Your thousand
pretences for not getting along better are all nonsense. They
deceive nobody but yourself. _Go to work_ is the only cure for your
case.
Sincerely yours,
A. LINCOLN.
In still another letter he reveals his tender solicitude for his
step-mother, as well as his care for his step-brother's unfortunate
children.
Shelbyville, Nov. 9, 1851
DEAR BROTHER:--When I wrote you before, I had not received your
letter. I still think as I did; but if the land can be sold so that
I get $300 to put at interest for mother, I will not object, if she
does not. But before I will make a deed, the money must be had, or
secured beyond all doubt, at ten per cent. As to Abram, I do not
want him on my own account; but I understand he wants to live with
me, so that he can go to school, and get a fair start in the world,
which I very much wish him to have. When I reach home, if I can
make it convenient I will take him, provided there is no mistake
between us as to the object and terms of my taking him.
In haste, as ever,
A. LINCOLN.
In speaking of Lincoln's regard for his step-mother, it is interesting
also to learn her opinion of him. A gentleman visiting the old lady
after her son's death says: "She is eighty-four years old, and quite
feeble. She is a plain, unsophisticated old lady, with a frank, open
countenance, a warm heart full of kindness toward others, and in many
respects very much like the President. Abraham was evidently her idol;
she speaks of him still as her 'good boy,' and with much feeling said,
'He was always a good boy, and willing to do just what I wanted. He and
his step-brother never quarrelled but once, and that, you know, is a
great deal for step-brothers. I didn't want him elected President. I
knowed they would kill him.'" She died in April, 1869, and was buried by
the side of her husband, Thomas Lincoln.
CHAPTER VIII
Lincoln as a Lawyer--His Appearance in Court--Reminiscences of a
Law-Student in Lincoln's Office--An "Office Copy" of Byron--Novel
way of Keeping Partnership Accounts--Charges for Legal
Services--Trial of Bill Armstrong--Lincoln before a Jury--Kindness
toward Unfortunate Clients--Refusing to Defend Guilty
Men--Courtroom Anecdotes--Anecdotes of Lincoln at the Bar--Some
Striking Opinions of Lincoln as a Lawyer.
The ten years following the close of Lincoln's Congressional service, in
1849, were given to the uninterrupted practice of the law, to which he
devoted himself laboriously and successfully, though not with great
pecuniary gains. His legal fees were regarded by his brethren at the bar
as "ridiculously small." His practice had extended to the Supreme Court
of his State and to the United States District and Circuit Courts, and
he was occasionally retained for cases in other States. With greater
love of money and less sympathy for his fellows, he might have acquired
a fortune in his profession.
Lincoln never speculated. Apparently he had no great desire to acquire
wealth. He had many opportunities in the days of the State's early
growth to make good and safe investments, but he never took advantage of
them. Many of his fellow lawyers were becoming wealthy, but Lincoln
still rode the circuit wearing the familiar gray shawl about his
shoulders, carrying a carpet-bag filled with papers and a change of
underclothing, and a faded, green cotton umbrella with "A. Lincoln" in
large white muslin letters on the inside. The knob was gone from the
handle of the umbrella and a piece of twine kept it from falling open. A
young lawyer who saw him for the first time thus--one who grew to love
him and who afterwards gave his life for the Union--in relating the
circumstance a long time afterward, exclaimed: "He was the _ungodliest_
figure I ever saw."
An interesting and vivid description of Lincoln's personal appearance
and manner in the trial of a case is furnished by one who was a witness
of the scenes which he so admirably describes. The writer says: "While
living in Danville, Illinois, in 1854, I saw Abraham Lincoln for the
first time. The occasion of his visit was as prosecutor of a slander
suit brought by Dr. Fithian against a wealthy farmer whose wife died
under the doctor's hands. The defense was represented by Edward A.
Hannegan, of Indiana, ex-United States Senator and afterward Minister to
Berlin, an able and eloquent man; and O.B. Ficklin, who, after Douglas
and Lincoln, was considered the best lawyer in Illinois. Lincoln had all
he could do to maintain himself against his two formidable adversaries,
but he was equal to the occasion. The trial lasted three or four days,
the examination of witnesses consuming most of the time. In this part of
the work Lincoln displayed remarkable tact. He did not badger the
witnesses, or attempt to confuse them. His questions were plain and
practical, and elicited answers that had a direct bearing upon the case.
He did nothing for effect, and made no attempt to dazzle the jury or
captivate the audience. When he arose to speak he was confronted by an
audience that was too numerous for all to find seats in the court-room.
He was attired in a fine broadcloth suit, silk hat, and polished boots.
His neck was encircled by an old-fashioned silk choker. He perspired
freely, and used a red silk handkerchief to remove the perspiration. His
clothes fitted him, and he was as genteel-looking as any man in the
audience. The slouchy appearance which he is said to have presented on
other occasions was conspicuously absent here. As he stood before the
vast audience, towering above every person around him, he was the centre
of attraction. I can never forget how he looked, as he cast his eyes
over the crowd before beginning his argument. His face was long and
sallow; high cheek bones; large, deep-set eyes, of a grayish-brown
color, shaded by heavy eyebrows; high but not broad forehead; large,
well-formed head, covered with an abundance of coarse black hair, worn
rather long, through which he frequently passed his fingers; arms and
legs of unusual length; head inclined slightly forward, which made him
appear stoop-shouldered. His features betrayed neither excitement nor
anxiety. They were calm and fixed. In short, his appearance was that of
a man who felt the responsibility of his position and was determined to
acquit himself to the best of his ability. I do not remember the points
of his speech; but his manner was so peculiar, so different from that of
other orators whom I have heard, that I can never forget it. He spoke
for almost two hours, entirely without notes and with an eloquence that
I have never heard surpassed. He was all life, all motion; every muscle
and fibre of his body seemed brought into requisition. His voice was
clear, distinct, and well modulated. Every word was clean-cut and
exactly suited to its place. At times he would stoop over until his
hands almost swept the floor. Then he would straighten himself up, fold
his arms across his breast, and take a few steps forward or back. This
movement completed, he would fling his arms above his head, or thrust
them beneath his coat-tails, elevating or depressing his voice to suit
the attitude assumed and the sentiment expressed. Arms and legs were
continually in motion. It seemed impossible for him to stand still. In
the midst of the most impassioned or pathetic portions of his speech, he
would extend his long arms toward the judge or jury, and shake his bony
fingers with an effect that is indescribable. He held his audience to
the last; and when he sat down there was a murmur of applause which the
judge with difficulty prevented from swelling to a roar. The argument
must have been as able as the manner of the speaker was attractive, for
the verdict was in favor of his client.
"When he had retired to his hotel after the trial, and while conversing
with a number of gentlemen who had called to pay their respects to him,
Lincoln was informed that an old colored woman, who had known him years
before in Kentucky, wished to see him. She was too feeble to come to
him, and desired him to go to her. Ascertaining where she lived, Lincoln
started at once, accompanied by a boy who acted as pilot. He found the
woman in a wretched hovel in the outskirts of the town, sick and
destitute. He remembered her very well, as she had belonged to the owner
of the farm upon which Lincoln was born. He gave her money to supply her
immediate wants, promised her that he would see she did not suffer for
the necessaries of life, and when he returned to town hunted up a
physician and engaged him to give the old woman all the medical
attention that her case demanded."
Mr. G.W. Harris, whose first meeting with Lincoln in a log school-house
has been previously described in these pages, subsequently became a
clerk in Lincoln's law-office at Springfield, and furnishes some
excellent reminiscences of that interesting period. "A crack-brained
attorney who lived in Springfield, supported mainly by the other lawyers
of the place, became indebted, in the sum of two dollars and fifty
cents, to a wealthy citizen of the county, a recent comer. The creditor,
failing after repeated efforts to collect the amount due him, came to
Mr. Lincoln and asked him to bring suit. Lincoln explained the man's
condition and circumstances, and advised his client to let the matter
rest; but the creditor's temper was up, and he insisted on having suit
brought. Again Lincoln urged him to let the matter drop, adding, 'You
can make nothing out of him, and it will cost you a good deal more than
the debt to bring suit.' The creditor was still determined to have his
way, and threatened to seek some other attorney who would be more
willing to take charge of the matter than Lincoln appeared to be.
Lincoln then said, 'Well, if you are determined that suit shall be
brought, I will bring it; but my charge will be ten dollars.' The money
was paid him, and peremptory orders were given that the suit be brought
that day. After the client's departure, Lincoln went out of the office,
returning in about an hour with an amused look on his face. I asked what
pleased him, and he replied, 'I brought suit against ----, and then
hunted him up, told him what I had done, handed him half of the ten
dollars, and we went over to the squire's office. He confessed judgment
and paid the bill.' Lincoln added that he didn't see any other way to
make things satisfactory for his client as well as the rest of the
parties.
"Mr. Lincoln had a heart that was more a woman's than a man's--filled to
overflowing with sympathy for those in trouble, and ever ready to
relieve them by any means in his power. He was ever thoughtful of
others' comforts, even to the forgetting of himself. In those early days
his face wore a sad look when at rest--a look that made you feel that
you would like to take from him a part of his burden. One who knew him
then and had known his career since would be inclined to think that he
already felt premonitions of the heavy burdens that his broad shoulders
were to bear, and the sorrows that his kind heart would have to endure.
"Mr. Lincoln was fond of playing chess and checkers, and usually acted
cautiously upon the defensive until the game had reached a stage where
aggressive movements were clearly justified. He was also somewhat fond
of ten-pins, and occasionally indulged in a game. Whatever may have been
his tastes in his younger days, at this period of his life he took no
interest in fishing-rod or gun. He was indifferent to dress, careless
almost to a fault of his personal appearance. The same indifference
extended to money. So long as his wants were supplied--and they were few
and simple--he seemed to have no further use for money, except in the
giving or the lending of it, with no expectation or desire for its
return, to those whom he thought needed it more than he. Debt he
abhorred, and under no circumstances would he incur it. He was
abstemious in every respect. I have heard him say that he did not know
the taste of liquor. At the table he preferred plain food, and a very
little satisfied him.
"Under no circumstances would he, as an attorney, take a case he knew to
be wrong. Every possible means was used to get at the truth before he
would undertake a case. More cases, by his advice, were settled without
trial than he carried into the courts; and that, too, without charge.
When on one occasion I suggested that he ought to make a charge in such
cases, he laughingly answered, 'They wouldn't want to pay me; they don't
think I have earned a fee unless I take the case into court and make a
speech or two.' When trivial cases were brought to him, such as would
most probably be carried no farther than a magistrate's office, and he
could not induce a settlement without trial, he would generally refer
them to some young attorney, for whom he would speak a good word at the
same time. He was ever kind and courteous to these young beginners when
he was the opposing counsel. He had a happy knack of setting them at
their ease and encouraging them. In consequence he was the favorite of
all who came in contact with him. When his heart was in a case he was a
powerful advocate. I have heard more than one attorney say that it was
little use to expect a favorable verdict in any case where Lincoln was
opposing counsel, as his simple statements of the facts had more weight
with the jury than those of the witnesses.
"As a student (if such a term could be applied to Mr. Lincoln) one who
did not know him might have called him indolent. He would pick up a book
and run rapidly over the pages, pausing here and there. At the end of an
hour--never, as I remember, more than two or three hours--he would close
the book, stretch himself out on the office lounge, and with hands under
his head and eyes shut he would digest the mental food he had just
taken.
"In the spring of 1846, war between the United States and Mexico broke
out. Mr. Lincoln was opposed to the war. He looked upon it as
unnecessary and unjust. Volunteers were called for. John J. Hardin, who
lost his life in that war, and Edward D. Baker, who was killed at Ball's
Bluff during our Civil War--both Whigs--were engaged in raising
regiments. Meetings were held and speeches made. At one of them, after
Baker and others had spoken, Lincoln, who was in the audience, was
called for, and the call was repeated until at last he ascended the
platform. He thanked the audience for the compliment paid him in the
wish they had expressed to hear him talk, and said he would gladly make
them a speech if he had anything to say. But he was not going into the
war; and as he was not going himself, he did not feel like telling
others to go. He would simply leave it to each individual to do as he
thought his duty called for. After a few more remarks, and a story 'with
a nib to it,' he bowed himself off the platform.
"About a year after this, Mr. Lincoln was seeking to be nominated as a
candidate for Congress. Finding the writing of letters (at his
dictation) to influential men in the different counties and even
precincts of the district somewhat burdensome, I suggested printing
circulars. He objected, on the ground that a printed letter would not
have the same effect that a written one would; the latter had the
appearance of personality, it was more flattering to the receiver, and
would more certainly gain his assistance, or at least his good-will. In
discussing the probabilities of his nomination, I remarked that there
was so much unfairness, if not downright trickery, used that it appeared
to me almost useless to seek a nomination without resort to similar
means. His reply was: 'I want to be nominated; I would like to go to
Congress; but if I cannot do so by fair means, I prefer to stay at
home.' He was nominated, and in the following fall was elected by a
majority over three times as large as the district had ever before
given.
"Mr. Lincoln, like many others in their callow days, scribbled verses;
and so far as I was capable of judging, their quality was above the
average. It was accidentally that I learned this. In arranging the books
and papers in the office, I found two or three quires of letter-paper
stitched together in book form, nearly filled with poetical effusions in
Mr. Lincoln's handwriting, and evidently original. I looked through them
somewhat hurriedly, and when Lincoln came in I showed him the
manuscript, asking him if it was his. His response was, 'Where did you
find it?' and rolling it up, he put it in his coat-tail pocket; and I
saw it no more. Afterwards, in speaking of the matter to Mr. Lincoln's
partner, he said, 'I believe he has at times scribbled some verses; but
he is, I think, somewhat unwilling to have it known.'"
Lincoln's love of poetry is further shown by the following incident,
related by a gentleman who visited the old law-office of Lincoln &
Herndon, at Springfield. He says: "I took up carelessly, as I stood
thinking, a handsome octavo volume lying on the office table. It opened
so persistently at one place, as I handled it, that I looked to see what
it was, and found that somebody had thoroughly thumbed the pages of 'Don
Juan.' I knew Mr. Herndon was not a man to dwell on it, and it darted
through my mind that perhaps it had been a favorite with Lincoln. 'Did
Mr. Lincoln ever read this book?' I said, hurriedly. 'That book!' said
Herndon, looking up from his writing and taking it out of my hand. 'Oh,
yes; he read it often. It is the office copy.'" Lincoln was so fond of
the book that he kept it ready to his hand.
Mr. John T. Stuart, Lincoln's first law-partner, says of him that his
accounts were correctly kept, but in a manner peculiar to himself. Soon
after their law-partnership was formed, Mr. Stuart was elected to
Congress, thereafter spending much of his time in Washington. Lincoln
conducted the business of the firm in his absence. When Mr. Stuart
reached home, at the close of the first session of Congress, Lincoln
proceeded to give him an account of the earnings of the office during
his absence. The charges for fees and entry of receipts of money were
not in an account book, but stowed away in a drawer in Lincoln's desk,
among the papers in each case. He proceeded to lay the papers before Mr.
Stuart, taking up each case by itself. The account would run in this
way:
Fees charged in this case................$
Amount collected.........................$
Stuart's half............................$
The half that belonged to Mr. Stuart would invariably accompany the
papers in the case. Lincoln had the reputation of being very moderate in
his charges. He was never grasping, and seemed incapable of believing
that his services could be worth much to anyone.
One of the most famous cases in which Lincoln engaged was that of
William D. Armstrong, son of Jack and Hannah Armstrong of New Salem, the
child whom Lincoln had rocked in the cradle while Mrs. Armstrong
attended to other household duties. Jack Armstrong, it will be
remembered, was an early friend of Lincoln's, whom he had beaten in a
wrestling-match on his first arrival in New Salem. He and his wife had
from that time treated the youth with the utmost kindness, giving him a
home when he was out of work, and showing him every kindness it was in
their power to offer. Lincoln never forgot his debt of gratitude to
them; and when Hannah, now a widow, wrote to him of the peril her boy
was in, and besought him to help them in their extremity, he replied
promptly that he would do what he could. The circumstances were these:
"In the summer of 1857, at a camp-meeting in Mason County, one Metzgar
was most brutally murdered. The affray took place about half a mile from
the place of worship, near some wagons loaded with liquor and
provisions. Two men, James H. Norris and William D. Armstrong, were
indicted for the crime. Norris was tried in Mason County, convicted of
manslaughter, and sentenced to the penitentiary for a term of eight
years. The popular feeling being very high against Armstrong in Mason
County, he took a change of venue to Cass County, and was there tried
(at Beardstown) in the spring of 1858. Hitherto Armstrong had had the
services of two able counsellors; but now their efforts were
supplemented by those of a most determined and zealous volunteer. The
case was so clear against the accused that defense seemed almost
useless. The strongest evidence was that of a man who swore that at
eleven o'clock at night he saw Armstrong strike the deceased on the
head; that the moon was shining brightly, and was nearly full; and that
its position in the sky was just about that of the sun at ten o'clock in
the morning, and by it he saw Armstrong give the mortal blow." This was
fatal, unless the effect could be broken by contradiction or
impeachment. Lincoln quietly looked up an almanac, and found that at the
time this witness declared the moon to have been shining with full light
there was no moon at all. Lincoln made the closing argument. "At first,"
says Mr. Walker, one of the counsel associated with him, "he spoke very
slowly and carefully, reviewing the testimony and pointing out its
contradictions, discrepancies and impossibilities. When he had thus
prepared the way, he called for an almanac, and showed that at the hour
at which the principal witness swore he had seen, by the light of the
full moon, the mortal blow given, _there was no moon_. The last fifteen
minutes of his speech were as eloquent as I ever heard; and such were
the power and earnestness with which he spoke to that jury, that all sat
as if entranced, and, when he was through, found relief in a gush of
tears." Said one of the prosecutors: "He took the jury by storm. There
were tears in Mr. Lincoln's eyes while he spoke, but they were genuine.
His sympathies were fully enlisted in favor of the young man, and his
terrible sincerity could not help but arouse the same passion in the
jury. I have said a hundred times that it was Lincoln's speech that
saved that man from the gallows." "Armstrong was not cleared by any want
of testimony against him, but by the irresistible appeal of Mr. Lincoln
in his favor," says Mr. Shaw, one of the associates in the prosecution.
His mother, who sat near during Lincoln's appeal, says: "He told the
stories about our first acquaintance, and what I did for him and how I
did it. Lincoln said to me, 'Hannah, your son will be cleared before
sundown.' He and the other lawyers addressed the jury, and closed the
case. I went down to Thompson's pasture. Stator came to me and told me
that my son was cleared and a free man. I went up to the court-house;
the jury shook hands with me, so did the court, so did Lincoln. We were
all affected, and tears were in Lincoln's eyes. He then remarked to me,
'Hannah, what did I tell you? I pray to God that William may be a good
boy hereafter; that this lesson may prove in the end a good lesson to
him and to all.' After the trial was over, Lincoln came down to where I
was in Beardstown. I asked him what he charged me; told him I was poor.
He said, 'Why, Hannah, I shan't charge you a cent--never. Anything I can
do for you I will do willingly and without charges.' He wrote to me
about some land which some men were trying to get from me, and said,
'Hannah, they can't get your land. Let them try it in the Circuit Court,
and then you appeal it. Bring it to the Supreme Court, and Herndon and I
will attend to it for nothing.'"
Lincoln regarded himself not only as the legal adviser of unfortunate
people, but as their friend and protector; and he would never press them
for pay for his services. A client named Cogdal was unfortunate in
business, and gave Lincoln a note in payment of legal fees. Soon
afterwards he met with an accident by which he lost a hand. Meeting
Lincoln some time after, on the steps of the State House, the kind
lawyer asked him how he was getting along. "Badly enough," replied Mr.
Cogdal. "I am both broken up in business and crippled." Then he added,
"I have been thinking about that note of yours." Lincoln, who had
probably known all about Mr. Cogdal's troubles, and had prepared himself
for the meeting, took out his pocket-book, and saying, with a laugh,
"Well you needn't think any more about it," handed him the note. Mr.
Cogdal protesting, Lincoln said, "Even if you had the money, I would not
take it," and hurried away.
Mr. G.L. Austin thus describes an incident of Lincoln's career at the
bar: "Mr. Lincoln was once associated with Mr. Leonard Swett in
defending a man accused of murder. He listened to the testimony which
witness after witness gave against his client, until his honest heart
could stand it no longer; then, turning to his associate, he said:
'Swett, the man is guilty; you defend him; I can't.' Swett did defend
him, and the man was acquitted. When proffered his share of the large
fee, Lincoln most emphatically declined it, on the ground that 'all of
it belonged to Mr. Swett, whose ardor and eloquence saved a guilty man
from justice.'"
At a term of court in Logan County, a man named Hoblit had brought suit
against a man named Farmer. The suit had been appealed from a justice of
the peace, and Lincoln knew nothing of it until he was retained by
Hoblit to try the case in the Circuit Court. G.A. Gridley, then of
Bloomington, appeared for the defendant. Judge Treat, afterwards on the
United States bench, was the presiding judge at the trial. Lincoln's
client went upon the witness stand and testified to the account he had
against the defendant, gave the amount due after allowing all credits
and set-offs, and swore positively that it had not been paid. The
attorney for the defendant simply produced a receipt in full, signed by
Hoblit prior to the beginning of the case. Hoblit had to admit the
signing of the receipt, but told Lincoln he "supposed the cuss had lost
it." Lincoln at once arose and left the court-room. The Judge told the
parties to proceed with the case; and Lincoln not appearing, Judge Treat
directed a bailiff to go to the hotel and call him. The bailiff ran
across the street to the hotel, and found Lincoln sitting in the office
with his feet on the stove, apparently in a deep study, when he
interrupted him with: "Mr. Lincoln, the Judge wants you." "Oh, does he?"
replied Lincoln. "Well, you go back and tell the Judge I cannot come.
Tell him I have to _wash my hands_." The bailiff returned with the
message, and Lincoln's client suffered a non-suit. It was Lincoln's way
of saying he wanted nothing more to do with such a case.
Lincoln would never advise clients into unwise or unjust lawsuits. He
would always sacrifice his own interests, and refuse a retainer, rather
than be a party to a case which did not command the approval of his
sense of justice. He was once waited upon by a lady who held a
real-estate claim which she desired to have him prosecute, putting into
his hands, with the necessary papers, a check for two hundred and fifty
dollars as a retaining fee. Lincoln said he would look the case over,
and asked her to call again the next day. Upon presenting herself, he
told her that he had gone through the papers very carefully, and was
obliged to tell her frankly that there was "not a peg" to hang her claim
upon, and he could not conscientiously advise her to bring an action.
The lady was satisfied, and, thanking him, rose to go. "Wait," said
Lincoln, fumbling in his vest pocket; "here is the check you left with
me." "But, Mr. Lincoln," returned the lady, "I think you have earned
that." "No, no," he responded, handing it back to her; "that would not
be right. I can't take pay for doing my duty." To a would-be client who
had carefully stated his case, to which Lincoln had listened with the
closest attention, he said: "Yes, there is no reasonable doubt that I
can gain your case for you. I can set a whole neighborhood at
loggerheads; I can distress a widowed mother and her six fatherless
children, and thereby get for you six hundred dollars, which rightfully
belongs, it appears to me, as much to the woman and her children as it
does to you. You must remember that some things that are _legally_ right
are not _morally_ right. I shall not take your case, but will give you a
little advice, for which I will charge you nothing. You seem to be a
sprightly, energetic man. I would advise you to try your hand at _making
six hundred dollars some other way_."
Senator McDonald states that he saw a jury trial in Illinois, at which
Lincoln defended an old man charged with assault and battery. No blood
had been spilled, but there was malice in the prosecution, and the chief
witness was eager to make the most of it. On cross-examination, Lincoln
"gave him rope" and drew him out; asked him how long the fight lasted
and how much ground it covered. The witness thought the fight must have
lasted half an hour and covered an acre of ground. Lincoln called his
attention to the fact that nobody was hurt, and then with an inimitable
air asked him if he didn't think it was "a mighty small crop for an acre
of ground." The jury rejected the prosecution's claim.
Many of the stories told of Lincoln at the bar are extremely
ridiculous, and represent him in anything but a dignified light. But
they are a part of the character of the man, and should be given
wherever there is reason to suppose they are genuine. Besides, they are
usually full of a humor that is irresistible. Such an incident is given
by the Hon. Lawrence Weldon, Lincoln's old friend and legal associate in
Illinois. "I can see him now," says Judge Weldon, "through the decaying
memories of thirty years, standing in the corner of the old court-room,
and as I approached him with a paper I did not understand, he said:
'Wait until I fix this plug for my _gallus_, and I will pitch into that
like a dog at a root.' While speaking, he was busily engaged in trying
to connect his suspender with his trousers by making a 'plug' perform
the function of a button. Lincoln liked old-fashioned words, and never
failed to use them if they could be sustained as proper. He was probably
accustomed to say 'gallows,' and he never adopted the modern word
'suspender.'"
On a certain occasion Lincoln appeared at the trial of a case in which
his friend Judge Logan was his opponent. It was a suit between two
farmers who had had a disagreement over a horse-trade. On the day of the
trial, Mr. Logan, having bought a new shirt, open in the back, with a
huge standing collar, dressed himself in extreme haste, and put on the
shirt with the _bosom at the back_, a linen coat concealing the blunder.
He dazed the jury with his knowledge of "horse points"; and as the day
was sultry, took off his coat and "summed" up in his shirt-sleeves.
Lincoln, sitting behind him, took in the situation, and when his turn
came he remarked to the jury: "Gentlemen, Mr. Logan has been trying for
over an hour to make you believe he knows more about a horse than these
honest old farmers who are witnesses. He has quoted largely from his
'horse doctor,' and now, gentlemen, I submit to you," (here he lifted
Logan out of his chair, and turned him with his back to the jury and
the crowd, at the same time flapping up the enormous standing collar)
"what dependence can you place in his horse knowledge, when he _has not
sense enough to put on his shirt_?" Roars of laughter greeted this
exposition, and the verdict was given to Lincoln.
The preceding incident leads to another, in which Lincoln himself
figures as a horse-trader. The scene is a very humorous one; and, as
usual in an encounter of wit, Lincoln came out ahead. He and a certain
Judge once got to bantering each other about trading horses; and it was
agreed that the next morning at nine o'clock they should make a trade,
the horses to be unseen up to that hour,--and no backing out, under a
forfeit of twenty-five dollars. At the hour appointed the Judge came up,
leading the sorriest looking specimen of a nag ever seen in those parts.
In a few minutes Lincoln was seen approaching with a _wooden saw-horse_
upon his shoulders. Great were the shouts and the laughter of the crowd;
and these increased, when Lincoln, surveying the Judge's animal, set
down his saw-horse, and exclaimed: "Well, Judge, this is the first time
I ever _got the worst of it_ in a horse-trade!"
There has been much discussion as to Lincoln's rank and ability as a
lawyer. Opinion among his contemporaries seems to have been somewhat
divided. Mr. Herndon felt warranted in saying that he was at the same
time a very great and a very insignificant lawyer. His mind was logical
and direct. Generalities and platitudes had no charm for him. He had the
ability to seize the strong points of a case and present them with
clearness and compactness. His power of comparison was great. He rarely
failed in a legal discussion to use this mode of reasoning. Yet he knew
practically nothing of the rules of evidence, of pleading, of practice,
as laid down in the text-books, and seemed to care little about them.
Sometimes he lost cases of the plainest justice which the most
inexperienced lawyer could have won. He looked upon two things as
essential to his success in a case. One was time; he was slow in
reasoning and slow in speech. The other was confidence that the cause he
represented was just. "If either of these were lacking," said Mr.
Herndon, "Lincoln was the weakest man at the bar. When it fell to him to address the jury he often relied absolutely on the inspiration of the moment,--but he seldom failed to carry his point." |
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