Books: The Life of Abraham Lincoln

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The first law book he read was "The Statutes of Indiana." This was when
he was a lad living in that state, and he read the book, not for any
special desire to know the subject but, because he was in the habit of
reading all that came into his hands.

His next book was Blackstone's "Commentaries." The accidental way
in which he gained possession of, and read, this book is of sufficient
interest to narrate in his own words. It was shortly after he got into
the grocery business:

"One day a man who was migrating to the West drove up in front of my
store with a wagon which contained his family and household plunder. He
asked me if I would buy an old barrel for which he had no room in his
wagon, and which he said contained nothing of special value. I did not
want it, but to oblige him I bought it, and paid him, I think, half a
dollar for it. Without further examination I put it away in the store
and forgot all about it. Some time after, in overhauling things, I came
upon the barrel, and emptying it upon the floor to see what it
contained, I found at the bottom of the rubbish a complete edition of
Blackstone's "Commentaries." I began to read those famous works, and I
had plenty of time; for during the long summer days, when the farmers
were busy with their crops, my customers were few and far between. The
more I read, the more intensely interested I became. Never in my whole
life was my mind so thoroughly absorbed. I read until I devoured them."

All this may have been fatal to the prosperity of the leading store in
that hamlet of fifteen log cabins, but it led to something better than
the success of the most magnificent store in New York.

It was in 1834 that Lincoln was first elected to the legislature.
During the canvass he was brought into the company of Major John T.
Stuart, whom he had met in the Black Hawk war. Stuart advised him to
enter definitely on the study of the law. He decided to do this. This
proved to be quite the most important thing that occurred to him that
year.

Stuart further offered to lend him the necessary books. This offer was
gladly accepted, and having no means of travel, he walked to and from
Springfield, a distance of twenty miles, to get the books and return
them. During this tramp he was able to read forty pages of the volume.
Thus he read, and we may venture to say mastered, Chitty, Greenleaf,
and Story, in addition to Blackstone before mentioned. It was the best
foundation that could have been laid for a great lawyer.

During this reading he was getting his bread and butter by the other
employments--store-keeping, postmaster, and surveyor. These may not
have interfered greatly with the study of the law, but the study of the
law certainly interfered with the first of these. He read much out of
doors. He would lie on his back in the shade of some tree, with his
feet resting part way up the tree, then follow the shadow around from
west to east, grinding around with the progress of the sun. When in the
house his attitude was to cock his feet high in a chair, thus "sitting
on his shoulder blades," to use a common expression. When in his office
he would throw himself on the lounge with his feet high on a chair.
These attitudes, bringing his feet up to, and sometimes above, the
level with his head, have been characteristic of American students time
out of mind. He never outgrew the tendency. Even when President and
sitting with his Cabinet, his feet always found some lofty perch.

While he was not reading, he was pondering or memorizing. Thus he took
long walks, talking to himself incessantly, until some of his neighbors
thought he was going crazy.

He was admitted to the bar in 1837. At that date there was no lawyer
nearer to New Salem than those in Springfield, which was twenty miles
off. Consequently he had a little amateur practise from his neighbors.
He was sometimes appealed to for the purpose of drawing up agreements
and other papers. He had no office, and if he chanced to be out of
doors would call for writing-materials, a slab of wood for a desk, draw
up the paper, and then resume his study.

This same year he became a partner of Stuart, in Springfield. The
latter wanted to get into politics, and it was essential that he
should, have a trustworthy partner. So the firm of Stuart and Lincoln
was established in 1837 and lived for four years. In 1841 he entered
into partnership with Logan, and this also lasted about four years. In
the year 1845 was established the firm of Lincoln and Herndon, which
continued until the assassination of the president in 1865.

After a brief period Lincoln himself got deeper into politics, this
period culminating with the term in congress. In this he necessarily
neglected the law more or less. But late in 1848, or early in 1849, he
returned to the law with renewed vigor and zeal, giving it his
undivided attention for six years. It was the repeal of the Missouri
Compromise that called him back into the arena of politics. This will
be narrated later.

His partnership with Stuart of course necessitated his removal to
Springfield. This event, small in itself, gives such a pathetic picture
of his poverty, and his cheerful endurance, that it is well worth
narrating. It is preserved by Joshua F. Speed, who became, and through
life continued, Lincoln's fast friend. The story is given in Speed's
words:

"He had ridden into town on a borrowed horse, with no earthly property
save a pair of saddlebags containing a few clothes. I was a merchant at
Springfield, and kept a large country store, embracing dry-goods,
groceries, hardware, books, medicines, bed-clothes, mattresses--in
fact, everything that the country needed. Lincoln said he wanted to buy
the furniture for a single bed. The mattress, blankets, sheets,
coverlet, and pillow, according to the figures made by me, would cost
seventeen dollars. He said that perhaps was cheap enough; but small as
the price was, he was unable to pay it. [Note that at this time he was
carrying the debts of the merchants of New Salem. THE AUTHOR.] But if I
would credit him until Christmas, and his experiment as a lawyer was a
success, he would pay then; saying in the saddest tone, 'If I fail in
this, I do not know that I ever can pay you.' As I looked up at him I
thought then, and I think now, that I never saw a sadder face.

I said to him: 'You seem to be so much pained at contracting so small a
debt, I think I can suggest a plan by which you can avoid the debt, and
at the same time attain your end. I have a large room with a double bed
up-stairs, which you are very welcome to share with me.'

'Where is your room?' said he.

'Up-stairs,' said I, pointing to a pair of winding-stairs, which led
from the store to my room.

He took his saddle-bags on his arm, went upstairs, set them on the
floor, and came down with the most changed expression of countenance.
Beaming with pleasure, he exclaimed:

'Well, Speed, I am moved!'"

Thus he became established in the profession of the law and a resident
of Springfield. It was not a large city, but it was a very active one,
though small, and was the capital of the state. Lincoln was there
favorably known, because he had been chiefly instrumental in getting
the capital moved to that place from Vandalia. His first law partner
was very helpful to him, and he had abundant reason all his life to be
thankful also for the friendship of Joshua F. Speed.

CHAPTER IX.

ON THE CIRCUIT.

The requirements of the lawyer in that part of the country, at that
date, were different from the requirements in any part of the world at
the present date. The Hon. Joseph H. Choate, in a lecture at Edinburgh,
November 13, 1900, said: "My professional brethren will ask me how
could this rough backwoodsman ... become a learned and accomplished
lawyer? Well, he never did. He never would have earned his salt as a
writer for the 'Signet,' nor have won a place as advocate in the Court
of Session, where the teachings of the profession has reached its
highest perfection, and centuries of learning and precedent are
involved in the equipment of a lawyer."

The only means we have of knowing what Lincoln could do is knowing what
he did. If his biography teaches anything, it teaches that he never
failed to meet the exigencies of any occasion. The study of his life
will reveal this fact with increasing emphasis. Many a professional
brother looked on Lincoln as "this rough backwoodsman," unable to
"become a learned and accomplished lawyer," to his own utter
discomfiture. We are justified in saying that if he had undertaken the
duties of the Scots writer to the "Signet," he would have done them
well, as he did every other duty.

When Douglas was congratulated in advance upon the ease with which he
would vanquish his opponent, he replied that he would rather meet any
man in the country in that joint debate than Abraham Lincoln. At
another time he said: "Lincoln is one of those peculiar men who perform
with admirable skill whatever they undertake."

Lincoln's professional duties were in the Eighth Judicial Circuit,
which then comprised fifteen counties. Some of these counties have
since been subdivided, so that the territory of that district was
larger than would be indicated by the same number of counties to-day.
It was one hundred and fifty miles long and nearly as wide. There were
few railroads, and the best county roads were extremely poor, so that
traveling was burdensome. The court and the lawyers traveled from one
county seat to another, sometimes horseback, sometimes in buggies or
wagons, and sometimes afoot. The duties of one county being concluded,
the entire company would move on to another county. Thus only a small
part of his duties were transacted at Springfield.

These periodic sessions of the court were of general interest to the
communities in which they were held. There were no theaters, no lyceums
for music or lectures, and few other assemblages of any sort, excepting
the churches and the agricultural fairs. It thus came about that the
court was the center of a greater interest than would now be possible.
It was the rostrum of the lecturer and the arena of the debate. Nor
were comedies lacking in its multifarious proceedings. The attorney was
therefore sure of a general audience, as well as of court and jury.

This peripatetic practise threw the lawyers much into one another's
company. There were long evenings to be spent in the country taverns,
when sociability was above par. Lincoln's inexhaustible fund of wit and
humor, and his matchless array of stories, made him the life of the
company. In this number there were many lawyers of real ability. The
judge was David Davis, whose culture and legal ability will hardly be
questioned by any one. Judge Davis was almost ludicrously fond of
Lincoln. He kept him in his room evenings and was very impatient if
Lincoln's talk was interrupted.

There were two qualities in Lincoln's anecdotes: their resistless fun,
and their appropriateness. When Lincoln came into court it was usually
with a new story, and as he would tell it in low tones the lawyers
would crowd about him to the neglect of everything else, and to the
great annoyance of the judge. He once called out: "Mr. Lincoln, we
can't hold two courts, one up here and one down there. Either yours or
mine must adjourn."

Once Lincoln came into the room late, leaned over the clerk's desk and
whispered to him a little story. Thereupon the clerk threw back his
head and laughed aloud. The judge thundered out, "Mr. Clerk, you may
fine yourself five dollars for contempt of court." The clerk quietly
replied, "I don't care; the story's worth it." After adjournment the
judge asked him, "What was that story of Lincoln's?" When it was
repeated the judge threw back his head and laughed, and added, "You may
remit the fine."

A stranger, hearing the fame of Lincoln's stories, attended court and
afterward said, "The stories are good, but I can't see that they help
the case any." An admiring neighbor replied with more zeal and justice
than elegance, "Don't you apply that unction to your soul." The
neighbor was right. Lincoln had not in vain spent the days and nights
of his boyhood and youth with Aesop. His stories were as luminous of
the point under consideration as were the stories which explained that
"this fable teaches."

Judge Davis wrote of him that "he was able to claim the attention of
court and jury when the cause was most uninteresting by the
_appropriateness_ of his anecdotes." Those who have tried to claim
Judge Davis' attention when he did not want to give it, will realize
the greatness of praise implied in this concession.

To this may be joined the remark of Leonard Swett, that "any man who
took Lincoln for a simple-minded man would wake up with his back in the
ditch."

As Lincoln would never adopt the methods of his partner Herndon, the
latter could not quite grasp the essential greatness of the former, and
he uses some patronizing words. We may again quote Judge Davis: "In all
the elements that constitute a great lawyer he had few equals ... He
seized the strong points of a cause and presented them with clearness
and great compactness.... Generalities and platitudes had no charms for
him. An unfailing vein of humor never deserted him." Then follows the
passage already quoted.

Lincoln never could bring himself to charge large fees. Lamon was his
limited partner (with the office in Danville and Bloomington) for many
years. He tells one instance which will illustrate this trait. There
was a case of importance for which the fee was fixed in advance at
$250, a very moderate fee under the circumstances. It so happened that
the case was not contested and the business required only a short time.
The client cheerfully paid the fee as agreed. As he went away Lincoln
asked his partner how much he charged. He replied, "$250." "Lamon," he
said, "that is all wrong. Give him back at least half of it." Lamon
protested that it was according to agreement and the client was
satisfied. "That may be, but _I_ am not satisfied. This is positively
wrong. Go, call him back and return him half the money at least, or I
will not receive one cent of it for my share."

One may imagine the amazement of the client to receive back one half of
the fee. But the matter did not end here. The affair had attracted the
attention of those near at hand, including the court. Judge Davis was
of enormous physical size, and his voice was like a fog horn. The
author writes this from vivid remembrance. Once in early youth he
quaked in his shoes at the blast of that voice. The conclusion of the
incident is given in the words of Lamon: "The judge never could
whisper, but in this case he probably did his best. At all events, in
attempting to whisper to Mr. Lincoln he trumpeted his rebuke in about
these words, and in rasping tones that could be heard all over the
court room: 'Lincoln, I have been watching you and Lamon. You are
impoverishing this bar by your picayune charges of fees, and the
lawyers have reason to complain of you. You are now almost as poor as
Lazarus, and if you don't make people pay you more for your services,
you will die as poor as Job's turkey."

The event justified the Judge's remarks. It was not unusual for
Lincoln's name, as attorney, to be found on one side or the other of
every case on the docket. In other words, his practise was as large as
that of any lawyer on the circuit, and he had his full proportion of
important cases. But he never accumulated a large sum of money.
Probably no other successful lawyer in that region had a smaller
income. This is a convincing commentary on his charges.

The largest fee he ever received was from the Illinois Central
Railroad. The case was tried at Bloomington before the supreme court
and was won for the road. Lincoln went to Chicago and presented a bill
for $2,000 at the offices of the company. "Why," said the official, in
real or feigned astonishment, "this is as much as a first-class lawyer
would have charged."

Lincoln was greatly depressed by this rebuff, and would have let the
matter drop then and there had not his neighbors heard of it. They
persuaded him to raise the fee to $5,000, and six leading lawyers of
the state testified that that sum was a moderate charge. Lincoln sued
the road for the larger amount and won his case. It is a matter of
interest that at that time the vice-president of the railroad was
George B. McClellan.

It was Lincoln's habit always to go to the heart of a case. Quibbles
did not interest him. The non-professional public who have attended
jury trials will not easily forget the monotonous "I object" of the
attorneys, usually followed by, "I except to the ruling of the court,"
and "The clerk will note the exception." Lincoln generally met the
objections by the placid remark, "I reckon that's so." Thus he gave up
point after point, apparently giving away his case over and over again,
until his associates were brought to the verge of nervous prostration.
After giving away six points he would fasten upon the seventh, which
was the pivotal point of the case, and would handle that so as to win.
This ought to have been satisfactory, but neither Herndon nor his other
associates ever got used to it.

Lincoln put his conscience into his legal practise to a greater degree
than is common with lawyers. He held (with Blackstone) that law is for
the purpose of securing justice, and he would never make use of any
technicality for the purpose of thwarting justice. When others
maneuvered, he met them by a straightforward dealing. He never did or
could take an unfair advantage. On the wrong side of a case, he was
worse than useless to his client, and he knew it. He would never take
such a case if it could be avoided. His partner Herndon tells how he
gave some free and unprofessional advice to one who offered him such a
case: "Yes, there is no reasonable doubt but 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 them as it does to you. I shall not take your case, but will
give a little advice for nothing. You seem a sprightly, energetic man.
I would advise you to try your hand at making six hundred dollars in
some other way."

Sometimes, after having entered on a case, he discovered that his
clients had imposed on him. In his indignation he has even left the
court room. Once when the Judge sent for him he refused to return.
"Tell the judge my hands are dirty; I came over to wash them."

The most important law-suit in which Lincoln was ever engaged was the
McCormick case. McCormick instituted a suit against one Manny for
alleged infringement of patents. McCormick virtually claimed the
monopoly of the manufacture of harvesting machines. The suit involved a
large sum of money besides incidental considerations. The leading
attorney for the plaintiff was the Hon. Reverdy Johnson, one of the
foremost, if not the foremost, at the bar in the entire country. It was
the opportunity of crossing swords with Johnson that, more than
anything else, stirred Lincoln's interest. With him, for the defense,
was associated Edwin M. Stanton.

The case was to be tried at Cincinnati, and all parties were on hand.
Lincoln gave an extraordinary amount of care in the preparation of the
case. But some little things occurred. Through an open doorway he heard
Stanton make some scornful remarks of him,--ridiculing his awkward
appearance and his dress, particularly, for Lincoln wore a linen
duster, soiled and disfigured by perspiration. When the time came for
apportioning the speeches, Lincoln, although he was thoroughly prepared
and by the customs of the bar it was his right to make the argument,
courteously offered the opportunity to Stanton, who promptly accepted.
It was a great disappointment to Lincoln to miss thus the opportunity
of arguing with Reverdy Johnson. Neither did Stanton know what he
missed. Nor did Johnson know what a narrow escape he had.

This chapter will not be complete without making mention of Lincoln's
professional kindness to the poor and unfortunate. Those who could find
no other friends were sure to find a friend in Lincoln. He would freely
give his services to the needy. At that time the negro found it hard to
get help, friendship, justice. Though Illinois was a free state, public
opinion was such that any one who undertook the cause of the negro was
sure to alienate friends. Lincoln was one of the few who never
hesitated at the sacrifice.

A young man, a free negro living in the neighborhood, had been employed
as cabin boy on a Mississippi river steamboat. Arriving at New Orleans,
he went ashore without a suspicion of what the law was in a slave
state. He was arrested for being on the street after dark without a
pass, thrown into jail, and fined. Having no money to pay the fine, he
was liable to be sold into slavery, when his mother, in her distress,
came to Lincoln for help. Lincoln sent to the governor to see if there
was no way by which this free negro could be brought home. The governor
was sorry that there was not. In a towering wrath Lincoln exclaimed:
"I'll have that negro back soon, or I'll have a twenty years'
excitement in Illinois until the governor does have a legal and
constitutional right to do something in the premises!"

He had both. He and his partner sent to New Orleans the necessary money
by which the boy was released and restored to his mother. The twenty
years' excitement came later.

CHAPTER X.

SOCIAL LIFE AND MARRIAGE.

Springfield was largely settled by people born and educated in older
and more cultured communities. From the first it developed a social
life of its own. In the years on both sides of 1840, it maintained as
large an amount of such social activity as was possible in a new
frontier city. In this life Lincoln was an important factor. The public
interest in the man made this necessary, even apart from considerations
of his own personal preferences.

We have seen that he was extremely sociable in his tastes. He was fond
of being among men. Wherever men were gathered, there Lincoln went, and
wherever Lincoln was, men gathered about him. In the intervals of work,
at nooning or in the evening, he was always the center of an interested
group, and his unparalleled flow of humor, wit, and good nature was the
life of the assemblage. This had always been so from childhood. It had
become a second nature with him to entertain the crowd, while the crowd
came to look upon him as their predestined entertainer.

But Lincoln had been brought up in the open air, on the very frontier,
"far from the madding crowd." His social experience and his tastes were
with men, not ladies. He was not used to the luxuries of civilization,
--elegant carpets, fine china, fashionable dress. Though he had great
dignity and nobility of soul, he did not have that polish of manners
which counts for so much with ladies. His ungainly physique accented
this lack. He was not, he never could be, what is known as a ladies'
man. While his friendly nature responded to all sociability, he was not
fond of ladies' society. He was naturally in great demand, and he
attended all the social gatherings. But when there, he drifted away
from the company of the ladies into that of the men. Nor were the men
loath to gather about him.

The ladies liked him, but one of them doubtless spoke the truth, when
she declared that their grievance against him was that he monopolized
the attention of the men. This was natural to him, it had been
confirmed by years of habit, and by the time he was thirty years old it
was practically impossible for him to adopt the ways acceptable to
ladies.

Into this society in Springfield came a pretty, bright, educated,
cultured young lady--Miss Mary Todd. She was of an aristocratic family
from Kentucky. It is said that she could trace the family genealogy
back many centuries. She may have been haughty--she was said to be so--
and she may have been exacting in those little matters which make up so
large a measure of what is known as polish of manners. These would be
precisely the demands which Lincoln was unable to meet.

It was a foregone conclusion that the two would be thrown much into
each other's society, and that the neighbors would connect them in
thought. For Lincoln was the most popular man and Miss Todd was the
most popular young lady in Springfield. It was simply another case of
the attraction of opposites, for in everything except their popularity
they were as unlike as they could be.

It is proverbial that the course of true love never did run smooth. If
there were ripples and eddies and counter-currents in the course of
this love, it was in nowise exceptional. It is only the prominence of
the parties that has brought this into the strong light of publicity.

Much has been written that is both unwarranted and unkind. Even the
most confidential friends do not realize the limitations of their
knowledge on a matter so intimate. When they say they know all about
it, they are grievously mistaken. No love story (outside of novels) is
ever told truly. In the first place, the parties themselves do not tell
all. They may say they do, but there are some things which neither man
nor woman ever tells. In the heart of love there is a Holy of Holies
into which the most intimate friend is not allowed to look.

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