A CASE IN COURT
We are told by Mr. Lamon, that Mr. Lincoln got his license as an
attorney early in 1837, and commenced practice regularly as a lawyer in
the town of Springfield, in March of that year. It is with this place
that his name was associated for the remainder of his life. Though it
contained at that time less than two thousand inhabitants, it was a town
of considerable importance. The list of the local bar contained the
names of several men of ability and reputation. Stephen A. Douglas,
already referred to, was public prosecutor in 1836. Judge Stephen T.
Logan was on the bench of the Circuit Court. There was John T. Stuart
also, who had recommended young Lincoln to become a lawyer, and was now
his partner.
The law office of Stuart and Lincoln was in the second story above the
court-room, in Hoffman’s Row. It was small and poorly furnished.
Lincoln slept in the office, and boarded with Hon. William Butler, who
appears to have been a politician and wire-puller.
At last, then, after a youth of penury, a long hand-to-hand struggle
with privations in half a dozen different kinds of business, we find our
hero embarked in the profession which, for the remainder of his life, he
owned as mistress. He is twenty-eight years of age, with some
legislative experience, but a mere novice in law. But he was ambitious,
and in spite of his scanty equipment as regards book-knowledge, he made
up his mind to succeed, and he did succeed.
Though I am thereby anticipating matters, I propose to relate an
incident of his law practice which I find quoted in “Raymond’s History”
of Lincoln’s Administrations, from the _Cleveland Leader_. It
illustrates not merely Mr. Lincoln’s methods and shrewdness as a lawyer,
but also his fidelity to friends.
This is the story:
“Some four years since, the eldest son of Mr. Lincoln’s old friend, the
chief supporter of his widowed mother--the good old man having some
time previously passed from earth--was arrested on a charge of murder. A
young man had been killed during a riotous _mélée_ in the night time at
a camp-meeting, and one of his associates stated that the death-wound
was inflicted by young Armstrong. A preliminary examination was gone
into, at which the accuser testified so positively, that there seemed no
doubt of the guilt of the prisoner, and therefore he was held for trial.
“As is too often the case, the bloody act caused an undue degree of
excitement in the public mind. Every improper incident in the life of
the prisoner--each act which bore the least semblance of rowdyism--each
school-boy quarrel--was suddenly remembered and magnified, until they
pictured him as a fiend of the most horrible hue. As these rumors spread
abroad they were received as gospel truth, and a feverish desire for
vengeance seized upon the infatuated populace, whilst only prison bars
prevented a horrible death at the hands of the populace. The events were
heralded in the county papers, painted in the highest colors,
accompanied by rejoicing over the certainty punishment being meted out
to the guilty party. The prisoner, overwhelmed by the circumstances in
which he found himself placed, fell into a melancholy condition
bordering on despair, and the widowed mother, looking through her tears,
saw no cause for hope from earthly aid.
“At this juncture the widow received a letter from Mr. Lincoln,
volunteering his services in an effort to save the youth from the
impending stroke. Gladly was his aid accepted, although it seemed
impossible for even his sagacity to prevail in such a desperate case;
but the heart of the attorney was in his work, and he set about it with
a will which knew no such word as fail. Feeling that the poisoned
condition of the public mind was such as to preclude the possibility of
impanelling an impartial jury in the court having jurisdiction, he
procured a change of venue and a postponement of the trial. He then went
studiously to work, unravelling the history of the case, and satisfied
himself that his client was the victim of malice, and that the
statements of the accuser were a tissue of falsehoods.
“When the trial was called on, the prisoner, pale and emaciated, with
hopelessness written on every feature, and accompanied by his
half-hoping, half-despairing mother--whose only hope was in a mother’s
belief of her son’s innocence, in the justice of the God she worshipped,
and in the noble counsel, who, without hope of fee or reward upon earth,
had undertaken the cause--took his seat in the prisoners’ box, and, with
a ‘stony firmness,’ listened to the reading of the indictment.
“Lincoln sat quietly by, whilst the large body of auditors looked on him
as though wondering what he could say in defence of one whose guilt they
looked upon as certain. The examination of the witnesses for the State
was begun, and a well-arranged mass of evidence, circumstantial and
positive, was introduced, which seemed to impale the prisoner beyond the
possibility of extrication.
“The counsel for the defense propounded but few questions, and those of
a character which excited no uneasiness on the part of the
prosecutor--merely, in most cases, requiring the main witnesses to be
definite as to time and place. When the evidence of the prosecution was
ended, Lincoln introduced a few witnesses, to remove some erroneous
impressions in regard to the previous character of his client, who,
though somewhat rowdyish, had never been known to commit a vicious act;
and to show that a greater degree of ill-feeling existed between the
accuser and the accused than between the accused and the deceased.
“The prosecutor felt that the case was a clear one, and his opening
speech was brief and formal. Lincoln arose, while a deathly silence
pervaded the vast audience, and, in a clear and moderate tone, began his
argument. Slowly and carefully he reviewed the testimony, pointing out
the hitherto unobserved discrepancies in the statements of the principal
witness. That which had seemed plain and plausible he made to appear
crooked as a serpent’s path. The witness had stated that the affair took
place at a certain hour in the evening, and that, by the brightly
shining moon, he saw the prisoner inflict the death-blow with a
slung-shot. Mr. Lincoln showed that at the hour referred to, the moon
had not yet appeared above the horizon, and, consequently, the whole
tale was a fabrication.
“An almost instantaneous change seemed to have been wrought in the minds
of his auditors, and the verdict of ‘not guilty’ was at the end of every
tongue. But the advocate was not content with this intellectual
achievement. His whole being had for months been bound up in this work
of gratitude and mercy, and as the lava of the overcharged crater bursts
from its imprisonment, so great thoughts and burning words leaped forth
from the soul of the eloquent Lincoln. He drew a picture of the perjurer
so horrid and ghastly, that the accuser could sit under it no longer,
but reeled and staggered from the court-room, whilst the audience
fancied they could see the brand upon his brow. Then in words of
thrilling pathos, Lincoln appealed to the jurors as fathers of some who
might become fatherless, and as husbands of wives who might be widowed,
to yield to no previous impressions, no ill-founded prejudice, but to do
his client justice; and as he alluded to the debt of gratitude which he
owed the boy’s sire, tears were seen to fall from many eyes unused to
weeping.
“It was near night when he concluded by saying that if justice were
done, as he believed it would be,--before the sun should set,--it would
shine upon his client a free man.
“The jury retired, and the court adjourned for the day. Half an hour had
not elapsed, when, as the officers of the court and the volunteer
attorney sat at the tea-table of their hotel, a messenger announced
that the jury had returned to their seats. All repaired immediately to
the court-house, and whilst the prisoner was being brought from the
jail, the court-room was filled to overflowing with citizens from the
town.
“When the prisoner and his mother entered, silence reigned as completely
as though the house were empty. The foreman of the jury, in answer to
the usual inquiry from the court, delivered the verdict of ‘Not Guilty!’
The widow dropped into the arms of her son, who lifted her up, and told
her to look upon him as before, free and innocent. Then with the words,
‘Where is Mr. Lincoln?’ he rushed across the room, and grasped the hand
of his deliverer, whilst his heart was too full for utterance. Lincoln
turned his eyes toward the west, where the sun still lingered in view,
and then, turning to the youth, said: ‘It is not yet sundown, and you
are free.’ I confess that my cheeks were not wholly unwet by tears, and
I turned from the affecting scene. As I cast a glance behind, I saw
Abraham Lincoln obeying the Divine injunction by comforting the widowed
and fatherless.”
When a lawyer can so bravely and affectionately rescue the innocent from
the machinations of the wicked, we feel that he is indeed the exponent
and representative of a noble profession. It is unfortunate that lawyers
so often lend themselves to help iniquity, and oppress the weak. Mr.
Lincoln always did his best when he felt that Right and Justice were on
his side. When he had any doubts on this point, he lost all his
enthusiasm and his courage, and labored mechanically. He believed in
justice, and would not willingly act on the wrong side. On one occasion
he discovered that he had been deceived by his client, and informed his
associate lawyer that he (Lincoln) would not make the plea. His
associate, therefore, did so, and to Lincoln’s surprise gained a
verdict. Convinced, nevertheless, that his client was wrong, he would
not accept any part of the handsome fee of nine hundred dollars, which
he paid. Only an honest and high-minded lawyer would have acted thus.