When Edward M.Stanton was associated at Cincinnati in 1857 with Abraham Lincoln in the great McCormick Reaper patent suit, it was commonly assumed that this was the first time the two men had met.Such was Lincoln's view, for his memory was apt to have blind patches in it.But in fact there had been a meeting fifteen years before, the recollection of which in Stanton's mind had been so overlaid by the accumulations of a busy life that it did not awake till after the President's death.
In the early fall of 1842 Stanton had occasion to visit Illinois.He was then twenty-five years of age, and had already attained the position of leading lawyer in his native town of Steubenville in Ohio and acted as reporter of the Supreme Court of that State.He was a solemn reserved young man, with a square fleshy face and a strong ill-tempered jaw.His tight lips curved downwards at the corners and, combined with his bold eyes, gave him an air of peculiar shrewdness and purpose.He did not forget that he came of good professional stock--New England on one side and Virginia on the other--and that he was college-bred, unlike the common backwoods attorney.Also he was resolved on a great career, with the White House at the end of it, and was ready to compel all whom he met to admit the justice of his ambition The conscious of uncommon talent and a shining future gave him a self-possession rare in a young man, and a complacence not unlike arrogance.His dress suited his pretensions--the soft rich broadcloth which tailors called doeskin, and linen of a fineness rare outside the eastern cities.He was not popular in Ohio, but he was respected for his sharp tongue, subtle brain, and intractable honesty.
His business finished, he had the task of filling up the evening, for he could not leave for home till the morrow.His host, Mr.George Curtin, was a little shy of his guest and longed profoundly to see the last of him.It was obvious that this alert lawyer regarded the Springfield folk as mossbacks--which might be well enough for St.Louis and Chicago, but was scarcely becoming in a man from Steubenville.Another kind of visitor he might have taken to a chickenfight, but one glance at Stanton barred that solution.So he compromised on Speed's store.
"There's one or two prominent citizens gathered there most nights," he explained."Like as not we'll find Mr.Lincoln.I reckon you've heard of Abe Lincoln?"Mr.Stanton had not.He denied the imputation as if he were annoyed.
"Well, we think a mighty lot of him round here.He's Judge Logan's law partner and considered one of the brightest in Illinois.He's been returned to the State Legislature two or three times, and he's a dandy on the stump.
A hot Whig and none the worse of that, though I reckon them's not your politics....We're kind of proud of him in Sangamon county.No, not a native.Rode into the town one day five years back from New Salem with all his belongings in a saddle-bag, and started business next morning in Joe Speed's back room....He's good company, Abe, for you never heard a better man to tell a story.You'd die of laughing.Though I did hear he was a sad man just now along of being crossed in love, so I can't promise you he'll be up to his usual, if he's at Speed's to-night.""I suppose the requirements for a western lawyer," said Mr.Stanton acidly, "are a gift of buffoonery and a reputation for gallantry." He was intensely bored, and had small desire to make the acquaintance of provincial celebrities.
Mr.Curtin was offended, but could think of no suitable retort, and as they were close on Speed's store he swallowed his wrath and led the way through alleys of piled merchandise to the big room where the stove was lighted.
It was a chilly fall night and the fire was welcome.Half a dozen men sat smoking round it, with rummers of reeking toddy at their elbows.They were ordinary citizens of the place, and they talked of the last horseraces.As the new-comers entered they were appealing to a figure perched on a high barrel to decide some point in dispute.
This figure climbed down from its perch, as they entered, with a sort of awkward courtesy.It was a very tall man, thin almost to emaciation, with long arms and big hands and feet.He had a lean, powerful-looking head, marred by ugly projecting ears and made shapeless by a mass of untidy black hair.The brow was broad and fine, and the dark eyes set deep under it; the nose, too, was good, but the chin and mouth were too small for the proportions of the face.The mouth, indeed, was so curiously puckered, and the lower lip so thick and prominent, as to give something of a comic effect.The skin was yellow, but stretched so firm and hard on the cheek bones that the sallowness did not look unhealthy.The man wore an old suit of blue jeans and his pantaloons did not meet his coarse unblacked shoes by six inches.His scraggy throat was adorned with a black neckerchief like a boot-lace.
"Abe," said Mr.Curtin, "I would like to make you known to my friend Mr.
Stanton of Ohio."
The queer face broke into a pleasant smile, and the long man held out his hand.
"Glad to know you, Mr.Stanton," he said, and then seemed to be stricken with shyness.His wandering eye caught sight of a new patent churn which had just been added to Mr.Speed's stock.He took two steps to it and was presently deep in its mechanism.He turned it all ways, knelt beside it on the floor, took off the handle and examined it, while the rest of the company pressed Mr.Stanton to a seat by the fire.
"I heard Abe was out at Rochester helping entertain Ex- President Van Buren," said Mr.Curtin to the store-keeper.
