• CHAPTER ELEVEN •

MR. LINCOLN OF SPRINGFIELD

Springfield had changed a great deal in the six years since Abe Lincoln first saw it when he looked for Denton Offutt. From a cluster of log cabins it had grown to be a town of fifteen hundred people, and it served a farm community of perhaps eighteen thousand. In this year, 1837, the town had six churches, good schools and an academy for advanced students, two newspapers, many stores, and several small factories. Prosperous families lived in good frame houses, and there was an air of vitality about the place.

Abraham Lincoln’s birthplace, Hodgenville, Kentucky.

Lincoln went directly to his friend John Stuart, who had promised a partnership in law when Abe came to Springfield. These two young men—one so aristocratic, the other of humble birth—were congenial; and soon a new sign hung from Stuart’s second-story office window. The Sangamo Journal printed their announcement:

J. T. Stuart and A. Lincoln, Attorneys and Counsellors at Law, will practice, conjointly, in the Courts of this Judicial Circuit Office, No. 4 Hoffman’s Row, upstairs, Springfield, April 12, 1837.

Their office was a small, dingy room, scantily furnished but conveniently located directly above the Circuit Court room. Here Abraham Lincoln began practicing his new profession. The days when everyone called him “Abe” were gone. He was now “Mr. Lincoln,” a promising young attorney of Springfield. Perhaps he felt this subtle change, for a few mornings later he ran his fingers through his unruly hair and decided to have it trimmed. He had noticed a sign, “Billy the Barber,” near the corner. He clattered down the stairs and entered the little shop.

“Good morning, Mr. Lincoln,” the barber greeted him. “What can I do for you?”

“You know me?” Lincoln exclaimed in surprise. “I came for a haircut.”

“Yes, I know you; sit here, sir,” the barber said. “I shall never forget your kindness to me when I was in need.”

Lincoln eyed the dark-skinned face, and memory stirred. While Billy cut the untidy hair, Lincoln listened.

“It was in the fall of 1831, I remember,” the man said, “and late evening. I had been hunting near St. Louis and had come back up the Illinois River and the Sangamon. In sight of a small village, I fell in with a tall man who wore a red shirt and carried an ax—you, sir. The village was New Salem.”

“I do remember,” Lincoln seemed pleased. “You are a native of Haiti. You had lived in Baltimore and then in New Orleans”—the incident was coming back now. “But you found living difficult for a free Negro, so you moved to St. Louis.”

William de Fleurville snipped diligently, proud that this important man recalled him.

“You have it right, Mr. Lincoln. You took me to the inn where you were boarding. You put me up, and you mentioned my trade to your friends. Before the evening ended I had clipped a dozen heads, and when I left the next morning I had a comfortable jingle of change in my pockets. Your kindness helped me to decide on settling here, and Illinois has proved to be a good place for me. I like the people. I’ve had this shop for five years. I hear you are an attorney now; I wonder if you would write up a deed for me, Mr. Lincoln?”

“A deed?” Again Lincoln was surprised; he had not heard of a black man buying property.

“Yes, sir. I have saved some money, and I plan to buy town lots. I would count it as a favor if you will do my legal business.”

“I’ll be glad to,” Lincoln assured him.

Other men dropped in. Lincoln saw that the place was popular. The prices were reasonable; Lincoln decided to come often.

Back in the new office he went at the legal work. Stuart turned over everything he could to his new partner because he meant to put more of his own time into politics. He planned to run for the United States Congress the next year, and he was determined to defeat the Democrat—Stephen A. Douglas. A new lawyer could not ask for a better opportunity than Lincoln had in that office.

The law part of the business was easy for Lincoln, but he hated the bookkeeping. Because Stuart was often away, there must be some keeping of records. Lincoln was ever quick with an idea to save work. Now, when a client paid a fee, Lincoln put one half of the money into an envelope on which he marked the client’s name and the total fee. The other half of the money he put into his own pocket.

When Stuart returned Lincoln reported on the court work and then added, “And here’s your money, John.”

“Money?” Stuart stared at the envelopes Lincoln handed him. Lincoln explained, and they had a good laugh as Stuart pocketed his share.

During that first spring and summer in Springfield, Lincoln corresponded with Mary Owens, but their “romance” made no progress. She didn’t say “yes” or “no” for the very good reason that he did not ask the important question. At last he decided to propose—and Mary promptly said “no.” Her promptness was disconcerting after all his worry, but at least the vexing business was now settled. And there was much to interest him in Springfield.

The Young Men’s Lyceum was a popular debating society, and Lincoln was invited to join. He wrote letters and articles for the Springfield newspapers and sometimes amused himself by signing a fanciful name. His style of writing was clear, and he wrote straightforwardly or in a tone of satire, as he chose. If he had not happened to be more interested in law and politics, he might easily have won fame as a writer.

But the stirring times made politics fascinating. He decided to run again for the State Legislature. When he went out to campaign, he discovered that his previous record and his newspaper writing had made his name known and he had a big audience.

This year both parties held campaign meetings. One of the Democratic speakers was the elegant Colonel Taylor who talked about “horny hands of toil” and made slurring remarks about “aristocratic Whigs.”

“I’ll take the wind out of that fellow’s sails,” Lincoln said in annoyance. He edged near to the colonel and deftly jerked his waistcoat.

The garment burst open, displaying a fancy ruffled shirt and a glittering watch chain that dripped with jewels and golden seals. The audience roared as Taylor nervously hunted buttons. Lincoln’s turn for speaking came a few minutes later.

“While Colonel Taylor was making these charges against the Whigs over the country, riding in fine carriages, wearing ruffled shirts, kid gloves, and massive watch chains with large gold seals, and flourishing a heavy gold-headed cane, I was a poor boy, hired on a flatboat at eight dollars a month, and had only one pair of breeches to my back, and they were buckskin. Now, if you know the nature of buckskin when wet and dried by the sun, it will shrink; and my breeches kept shrinking until they left several inches of my legs bare between the tops of my socks and the lower part of my breeches. And whilst I was growing taller, they were becoming shorter and so much tighter that they left a blue streak around my legs that can be seen to this day. If you call that aristocracy, I plead guilty to the charge.” The crowd enjoyed that!

Another campaign meeting was held in the courtroom just below the Stuart & Lincoln law office. The speaker said some bitter things, and the editor of a Springfield newspaper was angered.

“Pull him down!” the editor yelled and pushed his way forward.

At that instant the amazed audience saw a pair of long legs appear from the ceiling. A second later Lincoln’s tall figure landed plunk from the trap door onto the platform. He motioned for silence, but the uproar increased. He edged to the speaker’s table, grabbed a heavy water pitcher, and waved it threateningly.

“Hold on, gentlemen!” he shouted, and his high, penetrating voice quieted them. “This is a land of free speech, and Mr. Baker has a right to be heard. I am here to protect him, and no man shall take him from this stand if I can prevent it.”

The audience was shocked to silence, and Baker finished his talk. The right of free speech had been granted by the Constitution, as Mr. Lincoln reminded that audience, but people had had little training in listening to the “other side.” When a speaker spoke unpopular words, he was hissed and booed—and often stoned. Abraham Lincoln was one of the first public men who taught people to listen to both sides of a question.

That summer of 1838 Lincoln was re-elected to the State Legislature, and his leadership of his party strengthened. He barely missed being chosen speaker of the house, although the state was strongly Democratic.

He was elected again in 1840 and took his seat in the handsome new State House in Springfield. Fellow townsmen spoke of him with pride and predicted a bright future.