From 1872 to 1883 Mr. Paine was Lecturer on the Law of Real Property at the Law School of the Boston University, an office whose duties he performed with great credit to himself, and profit to those whom he addressed. So thoroughly was he master of his subject, difficult and intricate as it confessedly is, that in not a single instance, except during the lectures of the last year, did he take a note or scrap of memoranda into the class room.
While he has always been a close and devoted student of the law, Mr. Paine has yet found time for general reading, and has hung for many an hour over the pages of the English classics with keen delight. For Homer and Virgil he still retains the relish of his early days, and, in the intervals of professional toil, has often slaked his thirst for the waters of Helicon in long and copious draughts. How well he appreciated the advantages of an acquaintance with literature, he showed early in a suggestive and instructive lecture on "Reading," which we heard him deliver before the Lyceum at Hallowell more than forty years ago. With his lamented friend Judge B.F. Thomas, he believes that a man cannot be a great lawyer who is nothing else,—that exclusive devotion to the study and practice of the law tends to acumen rather than to breadth, to subtlety rather than to strength. "The air is thin among the apices of the law, as on the granite needles of the Alps. Men must find refreshment and strength in the quiet valleys at their feet."
With his brethren of the bar Mr. Paine has always held the friendliest relations, and he has enjoyed their highest esteem. To none, even the humblest of his fellow advocates, has he ever manifested any of the haughtiness of a Pinkney, or any of that ruggedness and asperity which gained for the morose and sullen Thurlow the nickname of the tiger. Amid the fiercest janglings and hottest contentions of the bar, he has never forgotten that courtesy which should mark the collision, not less than the friendly intercourse, of cultivated and polished minds. His victories, won easily by argumentative ability, tact, and intellectual keenness, unaided by passion, have strikingly contrasted with the costly victories of advocates less self-restrained. Though naturally witty and quick at retort, he has never used the weapon in a way to wound the feelings of an adversary. In examining and cross-examining witnesses, he has assumed their veracity, whenever it has been possible to do so; and though he has had the eye of a lynx and the scent of a hound for prevarication in all its forms, yet he has never sought by browbeating and other arts of the pettifogger, to confuse, baffle, and bewilder a witness, or involve him in self-contradiction. Adopting a quiet, gentle, and straightforward, though full and careful examination, winning the good-will of the witness, and inspiring confidence in the questioner, Mr. Paine has been far more successful in extracting the truth, even from reluctant lips, than the most artful legal bully. He knows that the manoeuvres and devices which are best adapted to confuse an honest witness, are just what the dishonest one is best prepared for. It was not for all the blustering violence of the tempest, that the traveler would lay aside his cloak. The result was brought about by the mild and genial warmth of the sun.
Few advocates have had more success with juries than the subject of this sketch. The secret of this success has been, not more the admirable lucidity and cogency of his addresses, than the confidence and trust with which his reputation for fairness and truthfulness, and his evident abhorrence of exaggeration, have inspired his hearers. Another explanation is, that he has avoided that rock on which so many advocates wreck their cases,—prolixity. Knowing that, as Sir James Scarlett once said, when a lawyer exceeds a certain length of time, he is always doing mischief to his client,—that, if he drives into the heads of the jury unimportant matter, he drives out matter more important that he had previously lodged there,—Mr. Paine has taken care to press home the leading points of his case, giving slight attention to the others.
That Mr. Paine has been animated in the pursuit of his profession by higher motives than those which fire the zeal of the mere "hired master of tongue-fence," is shown by the comparative smallness of his fees, especially in cases exacting great labor. Great as has been his success in winning verdicts, and sound as have been his opinions, it is doubtful whether there is another lawyer living of equal eminence, whose charges for legal service have been so uniformly moderate.
Reference has been made to Mr. Paine's wit. Several striking examples might be cited; but two must suffice. Some years ago, when he was County Attorney, a man who had been indicted in Kennebec County for arson, was tried, and acquitted by the jury on the ground that he was an idiot. After the trial, the Judge before whom the case had been tried, sought to reconcile Mr. Paine to the verdict by some explanatory remarks. "Oh, I'm quite satisfied, your Honor," said Mr. Paine, "with the defendant's acquittal. He has been tried by a jury of his peers"—On another occasion, Mr. Paine was making a legal argument before an eminent judge, when he was interrupted by the latter, who said: "Mr. Paine, you know that that is not law." "I know it, your Honor," replied the advocate, with a deferential bow; "but it was law till your Honor just spoke."
From 1849 to 1862, Mr. Paine was a member of the Board of Trustees of Waterville College. In 1851, he was elected member of the Maine Historical Society, and also of the American Academy. In 1854, his Alma Mater conferred on him the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws.
In the relation of marriage, Mr. Paine has been very happy. In May. 1837, he was united to Miss Lucy E. Coffin, of Newburyport, a lady of rare endowments, both of head and heart.
Few men have started in a professional career with a more vigorous and elastic constitution than Mr. Paine's. Endowed with an iron frame and nerves of lignum vitae, he very naturally felt in youth that his fund of physical energy was inexhaustible; but, like thousands of other professional men in this fiery and impatient age, he finds himself in the autumn of his life afflicted with bodily ills, which he feels that with reasonable care he might have escaped. Toiling in his profession year after year from January to December, with no recreation, no summer vacation, no disposition to follow the wise advice of Horace to Torquatus,—
rebus omissis