Abraham Lincoln: A Life, Volume 1

by Michael Burlingame

  Back in Springfield, Lincoln also convulsed visitors to his law office. In 1846, Gibson W. Harris told a sick friend: “I wish you co[uld] be in the office about two hours, to hear Lincoln tell his tales and anecdotes, of which he has any amount[.] I think you would laugh yourself well in that length of time. I sometimes have to hold my sides at times, so convulsed with laughter, as to be almost unable to keep my seat. I have seen a dozen or more, with their hands on their sides[,] their heads thrown back, their mouths open, and the tears coursing down their cheeks, laughing as if they would die, at some of Lincoln’s jokes.”94 Lincoln’s puns were ingenious. One evening he asked Judge John Dean Caton, “if it is true, as has been stated, that all three of you [supreme court] judges came from Oneida county, New York?” When informed that it was so, Lincoln replied: “I could never understand before why this was a One-i-dea court.”95

  Lincoln loved to tell about a minor case he tried in 1858 at Bloomington. The young opposing counsel, exceptionally fearful of losing, took special pains to avoid defeat. The presentation to the jury lasted well into the night, and the anxious fellow could scarcely sleep. The next morning he arrived early at the courthouse, where he learned to his chagrin that he had lost. When Lincoln asked him about his case, he sadly replied: “It’s gone to h—l.”

  “Oh well,” said Lincoln, “then you’ll see it again.”96

  Lincoln also relished describing an episode that took place during his 1858 campaign against Stephen A. Douglas. After giving a speech in a small town, a local physician of the Democratic persuasion asked him if he could reply. Upon acceding to this request, Lincoln was approached by a lame man who advised him not to respond: “He and I live here. I am enough for him; let me answer him.”

  When the doctor finished, the lame man limped to the speaker’s stand and offered such a sharp riposte to the doctor’s remarks that he leaped up and shouted in rage: “That’s a lie.”

  The spectators anticipated a fight, but to their surprise the speaker calmly replied, “Doctor, I’ll take anything from you but your pills.”

  More angry than ever, the physician retorted: “I thank you. I am not a pill peddler. I have quit practicing medicine.”

  The lame man smilingly observed, “Ah, you have, have you? Well, then, the country is safer than I thought it was.”97

  Sometimes Lincoln joked with David Davis. One day Lincoln hastened into court as the judge was quietly wrapping up business and announced that “he desired to make a single motion of great importance to his case at that particular stage of the proceedings, which accounted for his somewhat hurried entrance into the room and anxiety to get the attention of the judge.” Approaching the bench, Lincoln said: “May it please your Honor, I am like the Irish sailor, and beg your Honor to excuse me for this hurried interruption.”

  “On condition,” replied the judge, “that you explain your analogy to the Celtic sailor.”

  “Well,” said Lincoln, “an Irish sailor was overtaken at sea by a heavy storm, and he thought he would pray but didn’t know how, so he went down on his knees and said: ‘Oh, Lord, you know as well as meself that it’s seldom I bodder ye, but if ye will only hear and save me this time, bedad it will be a long time before I bodder ye again.’ ”98

  Lincoln liked to describe the misadventures of John Moore, a bibulous Illinois state treasurer who, after drinking to excess one Saturday night, tried to drive home in his cart drawn by two steers. As he passed through a wooded grove, one of the wheels hit an obstacle, dislodging the yoke ring and freeing the steers, which ran off. Moore, who had fallen asleep, awoke the next morning, surveyed the scene, and declared: “If my name is John Moore, I’ve lost a pair of steers; if my name ain’t John Moore, I’ve found a cart.”99

  Lincoln could amaze as well as amuse his colleagues. When working with a team, he was affable and polite but secretive and headstrong. Once Swett and Whitney sat in the back of a courtroom “utterly astonished at the cruel mode in which he applied the knife to all of the fine-spun theories we had crammed the jury with.”100 Swett “never knew him in trying a law-suit to ask the advice of any lawyer he was associated with,” nor could Gibson W. Harris recall “a single circumstance tending to show that he was influenced in his judgment or his conduct by any of his associates.”101

  If colleagues resented Lincoln’s treatment, they did not show it. He made good friends in the fellowship of the circuit, for, as David Davis put it, it was “impossible for a body of intelligent gentlemen to associate together, day by day, six months of the year, without becoming attached to each other and without mutual benefit.” Although there was “a generous rivalry,” it “evoked no envious spirit. It was an era of good feeling, and friendships were formed which lasted for life.”102 Lincoln grew fond of many of his colleagues, including Usher Linder, Archibald Williams, Kirby Benedict, Edwin B. (“Bat”) Webb, Judge Davis, Leonard Swett, and Ward Hill Lamon.

  Linder, a fellow Kentuckian, rivaled Lincoln as a storyteller. A Democrat as a young man, Linder switched over to the Whigs for more than a decade and finally returned to his earlier loyalty, becoming a close ally of Stephen A. Douglas. In 1864, Linder wrote Lincoln saying: “I am constrained to beleeve friend Lincoln that you have ever cherished the kindest feelings for me, as I know I have for you, and although we have been often thrown in opposition to each other I think there has never been any thing said by either that has left a pang behind.”103 Lincoln regarded Usher’s talent as a speaker highly. Once when they were jointly defending an accused criminal, Linder recommended that they employ delaying tactics to protect their client’s interest. Judge Davis had ruled that the case must be concluded by that night. After dinner, Lincoln began a judicial filibuster but found he could not hold forth longer than an hour. Linder stepped in and spoke for three hours on innumerable topics, including a 45-minute disquisition on the prosecuting attorney’s whiskers. Lincoln “said he never envied a man so much as he did Linder on that occasion. He thought he was inimitable in his capacity to talk interestingly about everything and nothing, by the hour.”104 In 1856, when Linder’s teenage son shot and wounded another young man, Lincoln volunteered to represent him gratis, an offer that brought tears to the eyes of the distraught father. During the Civil War, the same fellow joined the Confederate army, was captured, and then released from prison camp at Lincoln’s request. Lincoln’s friendship continued even though Linder was not the easiest man to like. Linder could be violent; in 1859, he pummeled a fellow attorney in open court.

  Archibald Williams, a Quincy attorney, called Linder “a loathsome drunkard regardless alike of truth and decency.”105 Lincoln admired Williams, whom he first met while they served together in the General Assembly. Lincoln deemed him “the most natural and most learned” as well as the “strongest-minded and clearest headed” lawyer of his acquaintance, and later appointed him U.S. district judge for Kansas.106 Like Stephen T. Logan, Williams dressed shabbily, so much so that once a clerk at a hotel where he was staying accosted him, mistakenly thinking he was a derelict, and asked: “Pardon me, sir, but are you a guest of this hotel?” In reply, Williams exploded, “Hell, no! I am one of its victims. I am paying five dollars a day!”107 The tall, angular, and awkward Williams resembled Lincoln, according to Linder, who said “for homeliness of face and feature,” Williams “surpassed Mr. Lincoln.”108

  Kirby Benedict, a quick-witted, impetuous, kind, and amiable Democratic lawyer in Decatur, was another favorite of Lincoln’s. Linder knew “from Lincoln’s own lips that he enjoyed Benedict’s society hugely.” As president, Lincoln declined to remove Benedict from the chief justiceship of the New Mexico Territory, a post to which Franklin Pierce had appointed him. Justifying his decision, Lincoln explained “that he had enjoyed too many happy hours in his society, and he was too good and glorious a fellow for him to lay violent hands upon; that he could not find it in his heart to do so, and he wouldn’t.”109 Told that the judge had a drinking problem, Lincoln replied: “I know Benedict. We hav
e been friends for thirty years. He may imbibe to excess, but Benedict drunk knows more law than all the others on the bench in New Mexico sober. I shall not disturb him.”110

  Benedict’s drinking habits were not unusual on the Eighth Circuit. A Danville editor observed that the Illinois bar “has great legal talent, but it has also the most drunken lawyers of any bar on the face of the earth.”111 The state’s attorney for the circuit, David B. Campbell, was often too intoxicated to perform his duties. When Usher Linder thrice appeared at court inebriated, Judge Davis threatened to ban him from practice in the circuit.

  Edwin B. (“Bat”) Webb, an affable, courteous attorney with highly polished manners, was devoted to Lincoln, who reciprocated the feeling. A leading Whig in southern Illinois, Webb was known as an exceptionally hospitable host and a paragon of integrity. He and Lincoln served together in the legislature and campaigned for Whig presidential candidates in the 1840s. Lincoln was among those in the General Assembly who admired Webb’s common sense, amiability, and command of parliamentary procedure.

  Though Lincoln had many good friends, few of them were truly close. One of those few was David Davis. Gustave Koerner recalled that the judge “loved and admired Lincoln,” who in turn was “more intimate with him than with any other man.”112 Their friendship flourished despite their many differences in appearance, temperament, values, and social background. Davis was 5 inches shorter and a hundred pounds heavier than Lincoln and had an assertive personality while Lincoln’s was more passive. Lincoln was indifferent to money and lived modestly; Davis was a shrewd investor who became rich. Lincoln’s sartorial insouciance was legendary; Davis was something of a Beau Brummel. Davis had attended college and law school; Lincoln had spent less than twelve months in frontier blab schools. The two did share some things in common: they were devoted to the Whig Party; each had rock-ribbed integrity; and they both were excellent storytellers and exceedingly affable.

  Judge John M. Scott believed that together the “quiet and most deliberate” Lincoln and the “vehemently impulsive, resolute and forceful” Davis “were greater because of their close association and had the benefit of each other[’]s peculiar qualities.” Lincoln “planned and looked far into the future to discover what the end of a proposed measure would be,” while “Davis with his abrupt energy and impulsive purpose to overcome all opposition, carried into effect much of what Lincoln devised.” Neither of them “would ever have occupied the exalted positions they did, had it not been for the helpful influence each exerted for the other. Lincoln knew Davis’ great powers and that a close alliance with him was necessary to him in developing his own plans and purposes.” Davis possessed “much ability to organize political forces and nothing afforded more gratification than to exercise his powers in that direction on behalf of Mr. Lincoln in whom he then saw or thought he saw evidences of his coming greatness.” Whereas “Lincoln knew better what ought to be done in political matters,” Davis “knew better how to do it.”113

  Davis, Lincoln, and Leonard Swett were known as “the great triumvirate” on the circuit. Swett, one of the foremost criminal lawyers of his era, enjoyed immense popularity, for he was charming, magnetic, eloquent, generous, unselfish, entertaining, and a devoted friend. When trying a jury case, Lincoln preferred him as his partner to all others, seeming “to lean on him, and to say in effect, ‘I am all right now that Swett is with me.’ ”114

  The only thing like a formal partnership Lincoln had outside Springfield was with Ward Hill Lamon, a tall, stout, hard-drinking, humorous, earthy Virginian, who practiced in Danville. Friends described him as “chivalrous, courageous, generous,” and “a reckless, dashing, pleasant, social, good looking fellow, an admirable singer, free with money and fond of comic stories,” a “brave man” and “a fine boxer” quite “proud of his Herculean frame.” A reporter thought him “the most jolly moral philosopher of the day,” although, being no student, he probably never read a book from cover to cover.115 In Vermilion County, at the extreme eastern end of the circuit, Lincoln teamed up with Lamon, eighteen years his junior, on more than 150 occasions. Lamon drummed up business and Lincoln tried the cases. Their quasi-partnership lasted from 1852 to 1857, when Lamon won election as prosecutor of the Seventeenth Judicial Circuit and moved to Bloomington. Each day after court adjourned, Lamon entertained Lincoln and the other attorneys, supplying a pitcher of liquor to slake their thirst. When he had drunk enough to loosen up, Lamon could be persuaded to sing songs like “The Blue-Tailed Fly,” “Cousin Sally Downard,” and some off-color ditties. During his presidency, Lincoln appointed Lamon marshal of the District of Columbia and used him as a bodyguard and troubleshooter.

  One day during a break in a trial, Lamon tore the seat of his pants in an informal wrestling match. He returned to the courthouse without having a chance to repair the damage, cutting a comical figure before the jury. As a joke, one attorney circulated a subscription to raise money to buy him a new pair of pants. Most of his colleagues signed it and pledged absurd amounts to the fund, but when the document reached Lincoln he wrote his name and the following message: “I can contribute nothing to the end in view.”116

  Another humorous incident involved a client who served as conservator for his deranged, well-to-do sister. He hired Lamon and Lincoln to block an attempt by a bounder to wed the young woman for her money and remove the conservator. Winning the case, the attorneys received $250, an amount set by Lamon. When Lincoln discovered the size of the fee, he told his partner: “this is all wrong. The service was not worth that sum. Give him back at least half of it.” Reluctantly Lamon complied. Judge Davis, observing this transaction disapprovingly, blared out a rebuke heard by all present: “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!” When a leading member of the bar applauded this pronouncement, Lincoln retorted: “That money comes out of the pocket of a poor, demented girl, and I would rather starve than swindle her in this manner.” Lincoln did not want his firm to be known as “Catch ’em and Cheat’em.” That evening Davis summoned him before his moot tribunal, known as “The Ogmathorial Court.” (Davis coined the neologism.) He was convicted and slapped with a fine, which he paid good-naturedly.117

  Income from Law Practice

  This was not an isolated instance, for Lincoln charged notoriously low fees. After successfully representing a client in a complicated slander suit, he asked for $25. “We were astonished,” recalled opposing counsel, “and had he said one hundred dollars it would have been what we expected. The judgment [$600] was a large one for those days: he had attended the case at two terms of court, had been engaged for two days in a hotly-contested suit, and his client’s adversary was going to pay the bill.”118 In 1856, he wrote a client saying: “I have just received yours of the 16th, with check on Flagg & Savage for twenty-five dollars. You must think I am a high-priced man. You are too liberal with your money. Fifteen dollars is enough for the job. I send you a receipt for fifteen dollars, and return to you a ten-dollar bill.”119 When Lincoln charged the Chicago banking firm of George Smith and Company a mere $25 for trying and winning their case, the head of the firm thanked John W. Bunn for recommending Lincoln, saying: “We asked you to get the best lawyer in Springfield and it certainly looks as if you had secured one of the cheapest.”120 After offering advice to a young man about collecting a debt, Lincoln refused to accept any money for the consultation. When the client insisted on giving him at least a present as compensation, Lincoln replied: “when you go down stairs just stop at the stationers, and send me up a bottle of ink.”121 For collecting $2,000 on behalf of a client who had lent that sum to a deadbeat, Lincoln charged a fee of only $2.

  In notes he wrote for a law lecture, Lincoln stressed that the “matter of fees is important, far beyond the mere question
of bread and butter involved. Properly attended to, fuller justice is done to both lawyer and client. An exorbitant fee should never be claimed. As a general rule never take your whole fee in advance, nor any more than a small retainer. When fully paid beforehand, you are more than a common mortal if you can feel the same interest in the case, as if something was still in prospect for you, as well as for your client. And when you lack interest in the case the job will very likely lack skill and diligence in the performance. Settle the amount of fee and take a note in advance. Then you will feel that you are working for something, and you are sure to do your work faithfully and well. Never sell a fee note—at least not before the consideration service is performed. It leads to negligence and dishonesty—negligence by losing interest in the case, and dishonesty in refusing to refund when you have allowed the consideration to fail.”122 In the 1860 presidential contest, Lincoln’s small fees were cited as evidence of his admirable character.

  It is impossible to determine with precision just how much Lincoln earned from the practice of law, but a fee book that he kept while in partnership with John Todd Stuart and another one kept by Herndon for the years 1845–1847 shed some light on the matter. They indicate that most cases yielded $10 for circuit and supreme court work and $20 for cases in the U.S. courts. With Stuart and Herndon, Lincoln split fees evenly; with Logan, he received one-third of the fees. In partnership with Stuart from 1837 to 1841, he averaged about $1,000 annually; with Logan as a partner, his income rose approximately 50 percent. By the late 1850s, he earned roughly $4,000 to $5,000 a year. Compared with other lawyers in Springfield, Lincoln was not especially prosperous. According to the census of 1860, he ranked twelfth of the seventeen attorneys in terms of assets. (Of the 414 Springfield households listed in the census, the Lincolns ranked 127th.) The five lawyers who owned less than he did—including Herndon—were much younger, averaging 32; Lincoln was then 51 years of age.