The Life of Abraham Lincoln

by Henry Ketcham

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.