Abraham Lincoln in Our Own County

by Henry Mahan Beardsley

Judge Cunningham has hanging upon the walls at his home, a picture of Lincoln, which shows him as he was known among us. His face was clean shaven, and his dark-brown hair thrown carelessly back from his high forehead. The upper part of his face was handsome; and there was a sort of wistful look about the eyes that would, even in the picture, hold one’s attention. The leathery skin was folded upon his face. About the mouth, there was a firmness that gave additional meaning to every feature. Looking upon the face, you would feel yourself drawn to it by a sort of mysterious attraction. His dress showed negligence, yet was always clean. He scarcely ever carried with him but one suit of clothing and hence the following incident:

During the years of his practice here, there was in Urbana a short, stout Jew by the name of Alschuler, who kept a daguerreotype gallery. As Lincoln was becoming somewhat famous, the Jew pressed to come up to the gallery and sit for a picture. Finally, rather pleased himself at the idea, the statesman stepped in one day, when he had gained a little leisure from his work, attired in a long linen coat. Now a linen coat is the worst sort of an affair to have on when one sits for a picture; and so the Jew objected strongly. “But,” said Mr. Lincoln, “this is all the coat I have brought with me from home.” “Ha! Ha! I have it—I have it,” said the artist, after a moment’s pause; “You shall wear my coat.” Readily assenting to the proposition, Mr Lincoln removed his own coat and put on that of the Jew. It was scarcely an improvement; for the garment of the Jew was, by far, too short, while the sleeves came little beyond his elbows. But this difficulty was soon easily remedied. At the Artist’s desire, Mr. Lincoln seated himself in a chair, and after carefully adjusting the coat, put his hands behind him and thus sat for his picture.

From Lincoln’s first appearance here until 1859, there appear upon the court records the names of but few lawyers now practicing in our midst. There were others, like Mr. Lincoln, who travelled around the circuit. Prominent among these were Mr Swett, now of Chicago. Mr. Lamon, David Davis, afterwards judge of the circuit, and O. B. Ficklin, member of Congress from the district south of us. These were a jovial set of men, who knew well how to appreciate Lincoln’s stories. The old hotel in Urbana, stood across the street from where the St. Nicholas now stands; and during the noon hour, and oft times until in the night time, passers by could hear the roars of laughter provoked by these stories. Judge Davis used to delight in these as heartily as the best. Coming here from some other court in the circuit on the first evening, so soon as the crowd of lawyers had gathered together at the hotel, Davis would say: “Now, Lincoln let us have that story”—and the story once begun, the evening was filled with merriment.

There are some who remember Lincoln as he appeared in court. He was very tall (six feet four), and very awkward. He used to sit with one of his long legs hanging over the other, the toe of the shoe on one locked behind the heel of the other. When he arose to speak, he seemed much embarrassed, and as is normally the case, knew not what to do with his hands. So he had a habit of clasping them very awkwardly over his stomach. As he warmed up, however, he soon forgot his hands; and being freed, they aided him in his delivery. While standing, likely as not, he had one of his long legs slung over the back of a chair; or had his foot placed upon it.

Some lawyers would address the jury in fine, oratorical language. He never made a pretense at eloquence. He used to stand before the jury and talk as one of their number: he was the “thirteenth man” of the jury telling his opinion of the case. Such homely phrases as: “I reckon,” made his language familiar. Beginning his argument, he would state that of his opponent fairly and squarely—would state the case so that it would seem he had granted his side all away, then he would turn, and with his ever recurring “but” would bring forth his reasons fast and with force. His style of argument was strong and clear. He built his position, as it were, a series of steps. Each point was connected with the one before and after it. Great as was his love of telling stories, he never used them in his speeches at all. Beside the influence of his manner, he won upon a jury by his reputation. Every one believed him honest, and the jury men would sit and look up into his face, drinking every word he uttered for the truth. Henry Clay in famous for the number of murderers whom he saved from a merited doom. I only know of one case where Lincoln argued eloquently against his conscience, and then he was pleading for the sin of one who had been his friend and benefactor. He may even then have been honest in his plea, believing the boy innocent.

In the Fall of ’58, two men, in a grocery store at Sadorus, engaged in a discussion upon politics, became angry, and one, snatching from the counter by his side, a four pound weight, threw at the other and killed him. Ward H. Lamon was at the time Prosecuting Attorney. The widow of the murdered man engaged O. B. Ficklin to aid in the prosecution. Messrs. Lincoln and Swett were the lawyers for the defense. When the time came for the presentation of the argument, Mr. Lincoln, in his turn made his speech. As the trial had proceeded, he had become more and more persuaded that his client deserved severe punishment. His speech was a failure. Judge Davis told him so afterwards, and he acknowledged it. Swett, however, took his turn with a fine argument and the murderer was let off with a few years in the penitentiary. At another time, I am told, having become convinced that he was on the wrong side of the case, he was missing when called for to make his argument. The messenger, sent to search for him, found him in his room. “Tell the Judge,” he said, “that I am busy and can’t come”.

His humor oft times served him in a trial. I find in the “Urbana Union” for March, 4, 1858, a story of his own, to the point. A crowd of men were in an office discussing the fight in Congress upon the “Lecompton Constitution”, when Lincoln entered and was asked his opinion on the matter. Having seated himself in a chair, and having thrown one leg over the other in his usual way, he said he could best illustrate his opinion by means of a story. There were two men, he said, in a neighboring county, who had often met at “logger-heads”. One day, after an earnest discussion at their border line, one of them, in his anger, leaped over the fence and gave the other a sound thrashing. “I was engaged for the defense. The witness for the prosecution was a very talkative fellow, not confining himself to the mere matter of the questions put, but willing to tell all he knew. When it came my turn to question him, I asked: ‘You say you saw the fight?’

‘Yes, stranger, I reckon I did’.

‘Was it much of a fight?’

‘I’ll be darned if it wasn’t stranger, a right smart fight’.