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Excerpt from chapter 25 of Lawyer Lincoln In Transit To Freedom
An historical nonfiction novel by Alicia Connolly-Lohr
. . .
People sometimes came from far away to consult with Mr. Lincoln in Springfield at the Lincoln & Herndon law office. When he was not in, sometimes they would track him down on the street, at the general store, at the courthouse or at Nellie’s, where he often had lunch and socialized with other lawyers and businessmen. He would sit on the veranda afterward for conversation with his many acquaintances.
A local woman, the widow Nellie, overcame her grief by cooking. She started making a midday meal on Fridays for travelers in her sitting room. It did not take long before she cleared out two rooms and converted the first story of the plank-board house to a daily, eating place. Nellie filled the sitting room with old, saloon tables and chairs, covered them with pretty tablecloths and offered a daily noon meal. Some days, even a piano player added to the atmosphere. She welcomed patrons to sit on the porch and chat before opening time and to sit and digest after one o’clock.
Lincoln had his foot up on the railing of Nellie’s front porch when he saw General Matson ride up and wrap his horse’s reins around one of the hitching posts.
Matson stood next to his horse, looked at Lincoln until their eyes met. He tipped his hat with a leather-gloved hand from a twenty-foot distance and raised a finger for a moment. "Mr. Lincoln? Have a word with you?"
"Excuse me fellas," Lincoln said to the others. Lincoln dropped his foot and stood up slowly like he had to gather up his lanky bones first. He tugged his trousers up. "I need to have a meetin’ with this gentleman over here. ’Bout time to get back anyhow. I’ll see you boys tomorrow." He put on his hat and stepped down into the street and over to Matson. He shook hands with the General and they talked a moment. Lincoln pointed down the street. The General mounted back up on his horse and rode ahead.
The men on the porch watched the stick figure of Lincoln sauntering down the boardwalk in the same direction, toward his law office.
Lincoln remembered General Robert Matson. He met him several times when visiting Mary’s family in Lexington at some social occasion or another. They shared the common bonding experience of military service. Lincoln considered the General a real soldier who had seen fighting. He himself had not seen any battles but he liked to tell people, he had been in quite a few, very, bloody skirmishes with some fairly, treacherous mosquitoes. Lincoln’s military service in the Black Hawk War of 1832 had been brief but it gave him happy memories. The camaraderie of men serving together on behalf of their country created a permanent bond with veterans.
"C’mon in and have a seat, General," Lincoln said as he sat himself down across from the central, green-topped, working table. Lincoln had strewn papers, books all over it. Candlestick holders and ceramic ink pots and jars sat within reach of each seat.
Matson sat down, facing Lincoln. He rested his hands on a walking stick, which he propped in front of himself. Lincoln cleared a space to write some notes while they talked.
"All right, General, you’ve got me intrigued. What brings you all the way out here to see me?"
"Farm business. I bought a second farm a few years ago, forty acres out in Oakland."
"Yes. I heard about that. Mary keeps me up to date on such things about people’s comings and goings." He raised his eyebrows. "And above all, land holdings. Good land out that way. I know some fine folks living in that area." Lincoln leaned back in his chair and closed one eye while looking at the General. "But, there’s several good lawyers out there. You need not have come all the way to Springfield to get legal counsel on farm business."
"Well, I wanted a lawyer who knew something about slavery."
"Slavery? Well, now General," Lincoln sputtered a surprised laugh. "Are we talking politics or law?
"The law, of course."
"I can’t recall if I’ve ever done any legal work involving slaves ’round here. Maybe a registration or two, years back. O’ course, my partner, Herndon has defended a number of runaway slaves. So, you can see where we generally stand on the issue. I’m sorry General. You may have come a long way for nothin’. I, uh, don’t practice law in Kentucky, if you’re lookin’ to get counsel on something related to slaves in Kentucky."
"No, this is a slave matter in Illinois," the General said.
"In Illinois. Really? Well. This is gettin’ interesting, I must say," Lincoln said with narrowing eyes."
The General held up his chin and pulled back his shoulders. "I own quite a few slaves back in Kentucky, as is, of course, my right."
"Yes, and?"
"The last two years, I’ve brought some slaves out here for spring planting. I’ve taken them back to Kentucky for the summers. Then, I’ve come out again with them to harvest the crops. Before the cold sets in, I take them all back with me to Kentucky. That’s been my general plan, anyhow."
"I see." Lincoln ran a hand across the back of his neck massaging it while he twisted his head once to each side. "I s’pose you’ve consulted with a lawyer about goin’ back and forth like that with slaves from Kentucky?" Lincoln flopped his hand back and forth.
"Yes. Mr. Lincoln, I’m a successful business man and farmer." The General lifted his walking stick a bit off the floor and tapped it back down. "I investigate things thoroughly before taking action. You probably know it’s fully legal for me to bring my slaves into Illinois temporarily."
"Why, yes, I do, General." Lincoln nodded, waiting to hear something more.
"Well, no sense in waltzing around the point. Some of my slaves have run away in Illinois. I’ve got the law on them, to have them arrested and brought back."
"I expect there’ll be a hearing when they catch ’em, then?" Lincoln said.
"Well, yes but if it were only that, I would’ve found one of the Oakland lawyers." The General paused. "There’s a complication."
Lincoln raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I see." He muttered, "There so often is."
"There’s word that there may be some abolitionists involved. They might try to fight me in court here in Illinois. I want to know what all of my legal options are."
Lincoln raised both eyebrows.
"Just for negotiation purposes, of course," the General added. "Right now, I’m just looking for advice about my options. I want to know what I can do, if they file against me in court. And, I want to know if I can do anything to them."
"I still don’t see why you’ve come all the way out here."
"Like I said, I’m a good businessman. I’m well aware that sympathies are against me in Illinois. No reason lawyers wouldn’t be just like anybody else. I wanted straight talk about what my legal rights are. You’ve got yourself a reputation, Mr. Lincoln. They say you’re an honest lawyer. I figure it was worth a bit of travel to avoid getting a legal opinion with a slant. And, of course, I put stock in the fact that you were born in Kentucky and married a Kentucky woman."
"Fair enough. Well, then, let’s see." Lincoln picked up a book and started leafing through it.
"There’s four of them. A woman – she’s a cook – and her four children."
Lincoln and Matson spoke for about twenty minutes. Lincoln asked a number of questions about the circumstances. He outlined the general legal avenues he thought would be available to Matson. He could seek to declare the Bryants legally incompetent and request appointment as their guardian. He could sue for damages to his farming production against the abolitionists as leverage to get the Bryants back. His best option was to produce his Kentucky titles and request full faith and credit under the Constitution. Lincoln cautioned him that his situation presented an unusual set of facts. Lincoln sat back ruminating. "I think I ought to also advise you, General. You might just have here what we call a case of first impression under the law."
"What does that mean?"
"It means there might not be any legal precedent in Illinois for a court to go on. Basically, a judge might just rule any which way he thinks is right on the matter."
Matson sat silent, absorbing this guidance.
"As is often the case in my law practice, General, my truly best advice is the kind people don’t want to hear."
"Well, I do want to hear it. I’ve come all this way to find out just exactly what your knowledge and experience tell you is my best course of action to take."
He looked Matson in the eye and paused a moment. "All right then, here it goes. Don’t try to use the law at all to resolve this matter. Send an intermediary – maybe that overseer of yours. Offer your forgiveness and assurances there won’t be any punishment for the little misunderstanding that has taken place. Let this slave woman know you have to take her and the children back to Kentucky but assure her that you’ll bring them all back to Black Grove again for the fall harvest and spring plantin’. And tell her and her husband, you won’t be selling them. You need ’em to run the farm."
Matson listened but tightened his mouth and wrinkled up his nose.
"That’s what she expected when you gave permission for her to get married anyhow. If you can convince her to go along with that, you’ll be better off. You’ll have your slaves back. You won’t be wastin’ time in court and you won’t be emptying your pocket book to me, or any other lawyer out there. And, b’lieve me, General Matson, you’ll buy yourself a bushel full of peace of mind." Lincoln slapped the palm of his hand on the desk. "That sir, is my absolute best advice to resolve this whole business, most easily."
The General said nothing. He picked up his hat on Lincoln’s desk and stood up with his walking stick. He took out a wallet from his coat pocket and gave Lincoln ten dollars. "That ought to cover it, Mr. Lincoln."
"That’s too much, General."
"I insist. I thank you for your counsel." He stood up. "I’ll be thinking things over. May I call upon you again if things develop into a court proceeding?"
Lincoln looked down in thought, sticking his fingers into his vest pockets. "It’s not my typical case."
There was an empty pause. Matson stood, looking at him, waiting for a yes or no. Unspoken pressures mounted on Lincoln from this Kentucky gentleman. Matson knew the Todd family. He was a military veteran. He was a fellow member of that shared nobility – a former state legislator. There was flattery in his having traveled to seek out Lincoln personally.
"It might be a considered a conflict of interests, like in a contract. I’m sure you understand contracts, General." Lincoln said without looking up.
"If I need you, I’d like to be able to rely upon you as my lawyer."
"Wouldn’t you wonder if I’d really be dedicated to representin’ you? Since my partner has defended runaway slaves before? And with me being against the slavery question?"
"If I end up in court, Mr. Lincoln, I want you as my lawyer. I already told you, I trust you."
Lincoln looked up. "If you aren’t comfortable with any local lawyer and you need a representative, I will give it my consideration."
"Fine, fine, then." Matson shook Lincoln’s hand and said. "I must be going now. Thank you again."
. . .