Abe Lincoln in Court: Some Circuit Riding Stories

The Prairie Lawyer

During his nearly thirty years in the field of law, Abraham Lincoln, Esq. participated in thousands of cases—ranging from pension filings to high-profile criminal trials—at every level: local, state, and federal, even before the U.S. Supreme Court. [1]

But Lincoln was no flashy barrister. His courtroom demeanor and eloquence were never the stuff of law school lectures. And his wardrobe certainly wouldn’t have landed him on the cover of GQ. But Lincoln didn’t care. He stepped to the music of a different drum.[*]

And in spite of—or perhaps because of—that difference, Lincoln built a formidable reputation across the Eighth Judicial Circuit of Illinois. In an era when word of mouth traveled faster than print, his name was known far and wide. When he arrived at a county seat (the usual venue for civil and criminal proceedings), local attorneys often asked him to assist with cases, and litigants sought him out directly. [2]

His reputation wasn’t built on a win-loss record. It was earned through diligence, candor, honesty, unselfishness—and above all, storytelling. Traits that still serve as benchmarks for legal professionals today. [3]

Here are some court room stories that show Abraham Lincoln, Attorney-at-Law in action. 

Lincoln’s Lesson in Humility

During a jury trial in Sangamon County, Abraham Lincoln was representing the plaintiff. His opponent? A young, freshly minted attorney named James C. Conkling—a proud Princeton graduate who had just arrived in Springfield to begin his law career.

Confident in his credentials, Conkling delivered a lengthy and pompous argument to the jury, brimming with self-assurance. Lincoln, ever the tactician, had waived his opening remarks, allowing Conkling to speak uninterrupted.

When Lincoln finally rose to address the jury, he didn’t mention the case. Not once. Instead, he told a story.

He spoke of Johnnie Kongapod, a Native American from Sangamon County who had befriended missionaries, converted to Christianity, and learned to read and write. Johnnie had developed a love for poetry and, before his death, composed his own epitaph.

“Here lies poor Johnnie Kongapod; Have mercy on him, gracious God, As he would do if he were God And you were Johnnie Kongapod.” [2]

The courtroom erupted in laughter. The story had no legal relevance—but that was precisely Lincoln’s point. It was a subtle, humorous rebuke of Conkling’s inflated rhetoric. The jury got the message.

They ruled in favor of Lincoln’s client.

Conkling never forgot Lincoln's lesson: In the courtroom, humility and clarity often win over bravado.

Lincoln Silences the Room

This story captures his strategic restraint, his dry wit, and his uncanny ability to control a room without saying much at all.

In February 1850, the Circuit Court of Vermilion County, Illinois, was the stage for a sensational trial. A young woman had sued her former suitor for $10,000—a staggering sum at the time—claiming breach of promise after he married another woman. The case drew crowds from across the region, eager to witness the legal fireworks.

The plaintiff was represented by a formidable team: Richard Thompson, O.L. Davis, and the fiery young orator Daniel W. Voorhees. On the defense stood H.W. Beckwith, Ward Lamon, and Abraham Lincoln.

The evidence overwhelmingly favored the plaintiff, and public sympathy leaned heavily in her direction. Lincoln and his colleagues saw the writing on the wall. Rather than attempt a weak defense, they chose to let the facts speak for themselves—no embellishment, no excuses.

Voorhees, meanwhile, was preparing for a grand performance. He had negotiated with his team to deliver the closing argument and spent hours crafting a speech he hoped would dazzle the courtroom. Word spread quickly: Dan Voorhees was going to deliver the speech of his life.

The courthouse was packed, especially with local women eager to see justice served. Davis opened with a clear, logical summary of the case. Then Lincoln rose.

He paused. Adjusted a few papers. Looked the jury in the eye. And said:

“Your Honor, the evidence in this case is all in, and doubtless all concerned comprehend its fullest import without the aid of further argument. Therefore we will rest our case here.” [2]

Silence. Lincoln’s move effectively ended the defense’s presentation—and blocked Voorhees from delivering his much-anticipated speech.

Voorhees stood, pale with fury, and protested. The crowd, though disappointed, couldn’t help but be amused. Lincoln had out-maneuvered the young orator with a single sentence.

The jury awarded the full amount to the plaintiff. Voorhees got his verdict—but not his moment. And he never quite forgave Lincoln for stealing the spotlight before it ever had a chance to shine.

Lincoln Defends a Widow of the Revolution

This is one of Lincoln’s most moving courtroom stories—a blend of moral outrage, patriotic sentiment, and theatrical brilliance.

In November 1846, Abraham Lincoln took on a case that would become one of the most memorable of his legal career. The plaintiff was Mrs. Thomas, a 75-year-old widow of a Revolutionary War veteran. Frail and poor, she had come to Lincoln’s office seeking justice.

She had asked a local pension agent, Mr. Wright, to help her secure the pension owed to her for her late husband’s military service. Wright succeeded—but then charged her an outrageous fee of $200, a fortune for someone in her condition. She sued him in Justice of the Peace court, but lost. That’s when she turned to Lincoln and his partner, William Herndon.

Lincoln was outraged. He gave her money out of his own pocket, took the case to the circuit court, and prepared to make things right.

The day before trial, Lincoln asked Herndon to fetch a copy of The Life of Washington. He spent the afternoon reading it, immersing himself in the spirit of the Revolution. The next day, he delivered a speech that left the courtroom in tears.

He painted a vivid picture of the sacrifices made by the patriots of 1776, invoking Valley Forge, bleeding feet, and the long march toward liberty. Then he turned to the jury and said:

“Gentlemen of the jury. Time rolls by. The heroes of '76 have passed away. They are encamped on the other shore. This soldier has gone to his rest, and now, crippled, blinded, and broken, his widow comes to you and to me... She was not always as you see her now. Once her step was elastic. Her face was fair... Now she is old. She is poor and defenceless... I have but one question to ask you, gentlemen of the jury. Shall we befriend her?” [2]

The defendant sat hunched in his seat, visibly shaken. The jury awarded Mrs. Thomas every cent Lincoln had requested—$35 in damages. Lincoln paid her hotel bill, became her surety for court costs, and sent her home rejoicing. He charged her nothing for his services.

A few days later, Herndon found Lincoln’s handwritten notes for the case. They read:

“No contract—Not professional services—Unreasonable charges—Money retained by Deft [Defendant] not given by Pl'ff [Plaintiff].—Revolutionary War—Describe Valley Forge—Ice—Soldiers' bleeding feet—Pl'ff's husband—Soldiers leaving home for the army—Skin Def't—Close.” [2]

It was classic Lincoln: moral clarity, emotional power, and a touch of theatrical genius—all in service of justice.

A Legacy Beyond the Law

Abraham Lincoln’s courtroom stories aren’t just historical curiosities—they’re moral touchstones. They remind us that the law, at its best, is not merely a system of rules but a vehicle for justice, compassion, and human dignity.

Lincoln didn’t win every case. He didn’t dress to impress. He didn’t chase prestige. But he showed up—with humility, with heart, and with a fierce sense of right and wrong. Whether defending a widow against exploitation or calming a courtroom with a well-placed anecdote, Lincoln practiced law the way he lived: with purpose.

In an age of algorithms and analytics, his example still resonates. Because what truly endures isn’t the size of the verdict—it’s the size of the character behind it.

So when we speak of Lincoln the lawyer, we’re really speaking of Lincoln the man. And in these stories, we find not just a legal mind, but a moral compass.

“As a peacemaker the lawyer has a superior opportunity of being a good man. There will still be business enough.” —Abraham Lincoln, Notes for a Law Lecture, 1850. [4]

[*] This quote is from Henry David Thoreau's 1854 work, Walden: "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."

📚 Works Cited

[1] Gordon, Arielle. "The Time Abraham Lincoln Argued a Case at the Supreme Court." Boundary Stones (A Local History of Washington, D.C.) - December 16, 2020. Retrieved August 22, 2025. The case was Lewis v. Lewis (1849). Lincoln lost, but his presentation has been praised by legal scholars. https://boundarystones.weta.org/2020/12/16/time-abraham-lincoln-argued-case-supreme-court

[2] Browne, Francis Fisher (1913) The Every-Day Life of Abraham Lincoln. Chicago, IL: Browne and Howell Company.

[3] Somal, Sameer. "Lessons from Lincoln for Legal Professionals, July 29, 2025". The Law Review Volume XV, Number 233 August 21, 2025. Retrieved August 21, 2025.

[4] "Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln. Volume 2 [Sept. 3, 1848-Aug. 21, 1858]." In the digital collection Collected Works of Abraham Lincoln. https://name.umdl.umich.edu/lincoln2. University of Michigan Library Digital Collections. Accessed August 22, 2025.

The day his actions spoke louder than his words: Abe Lincoln and the Melissa Goings murder case

 

On October 4, 1858, in the midst of his now famous debates with Stephen Douglas across the state of Illinois, Abraham Lincoln made a campaign stop in the small town of Metamora in Woodford County.

But the reason for the stop wasn’t all politics – part of it had to do with murder.

Apparently, in April of the previous year, a seventy-year-old woman, Melissa Goings took a piece of wood and struck her seventy-seven-year-old husband, Roswell Goings, repeatedly on the back, shoulders, and head. He died four days later. [2]

Mr. Goings, a local, well-to-do farmer, had a reputation as a heavy drinker and a wife-beater. That particular day, he grabbed Mrs. Goings and attempted to strangle her in their home. She managed to get away from him and grabbed the piece of wood. [3]

Most of the town was sympathetic to her cause. However, a few men in the community evidently felt threatened by the example they believed Goings was setting for the other wives – Get mad at the hubby, take a stick of wood to his head, and afterwards accuse him of abuse to get away with it - and they wanted her punished for it.

So, despite being an open and shut case for self-defense, conflicting testimony was given at her preliminary hearing in August. As a result, Goings was ordered to re-appear for an indictment hearing October 10, 1857, during the next term of the circuit court.

Bail was set at $1,000. Her son, Armstrong, and a neighbor, Samuel W. Beck, posted a percentage of the bail, and she was released until the hearing.[4]

On the appointed date, Goings returned, accompanied by her attorney, Henry Grove and another lawyer whom Grove asked to be his co-counsel on the case – Abraham Lincoln.

On the advice of her attorneys, Goings pleaded not guilty. Her trial began immediately. After listening to some testimony – as the story goes – Lincoln asked Judge James Harriott for more time to become familiar with the case. His request was denied, but Lincoln was granted a short recess.

Lincoln and Melissa Goings either left the court or went to a vacant room downstairs [versions differ on this point]. But when Lincoln returned to the courtroom later, he was alone. By the time Judge Harriott called the court to order, Goings failed to appear.

Angry, Harriott supposedly accused Lincoln of encouraging Goings to flee. Lincoln, a master of both the law and the rule of law, explicitly denied that he "aided" in her escape.

According to legend, Lincoln only offered: “She said she was thirsty and wanted to know where she could get a good drink of water. I said that Tennessee has mighty fine drinkin’ water.” (There’s no documentary evidence, beyond hearsay, that corroborates his remark.)[3]

Lincoln, however, was never sanctioned.

The court then forfeited her recognizance and issued a scire facias [Latin for ‘to make known’] for her arrest. Later, the state also brought a lawsuit against her son and neighbor to recover the entire bail amount.

Melissa Goings was never found.

During that campaign stop a year later in October 1858, Lincoln met with the state’s attorney, Hugh Fullerton. After a protracted back and forth, Lincoln got Fullerton to agree to strike the murder charge against Goings from the court docket, and to dismiss the prosecution of her son and neighbor for the bond money.[5]

According to Woodford County records, Melissa Goings settled in California where she lived for the remainder of her life. Her attorney, Abraham Lincoln, moved on to become President of a war-torn nation, and ultimately, a murder victim himself at the end of that struggle.

By encouraging Goings to escape the the injustice of true justice in that small, Illinois town in 1857, Lincoln risked jail, disbarment, and a ruined political reputation because of his actions. However, the Melissa Goings case demonstrates the depth of character of that circuit-riding, country lawyer who, four years later, stepped up to save the nation from utter destruction.

Given Lincoln’s reverence for the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and all laws – good or bad, his actions that day in that small town courtroom stand as his VERY LOUD comments about abuse, as well as his respects for the rights of women. (And it also stands as his silent commentary on the fate of abusers.)

This is another anecdote from Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac

[An afterword: In 2009, the Woodford County Historical Society raised more than $100,000 for statues of Lincoln and Goings (shown at the beginning of this post) to memorialize this event. These statues, by John McClarey, were placed in the town square, across the street from that Metamora Courthouse - now a State Historic Site.]

Works Cited

[1] Keneally, Meghan. “Rep. Ralph Norman jokes about Ruth Bader Ginsburg being ‘groped’ by Abe Lincoln.” ABC News – September 21, 2018. Retrieved September 21, 2018 from https://abcnews.go.com/US/rep-ralph-norman-jokes-ruth-bader-ginsburgs-groped/story?id=57986316

[2] The Law Practice of Abraham Lincoln Blogsite Retrieved September 21, 2018 from  http://www.lawpracticeofabrahamlincoln.org/Details.aspx?case=137143

[2**] The Devil and God appear as part of the legal phraseology in many murder indictments in central Illinois during this time – not just Melissa Goings’. However, I thought this wording presented a bizarre – if not chilling – image of a defendant – especially when read to a jury.

[3] Myers, Jean. “Justice Served: Abraham Lincoln and the Melissa Goings Case.” Peoria Magazines – March/April 2009. Retrieved September 21, 2018 from https://peoriamagazines.com/as/2009/mar-apr/justice-served

[4] Deckle Sr., George R. “People v Melissa Goings: Transcript of a Murder Case Defended By Lincoln.” Abraham Lincoln’s Almanac Trial Blogsite. Retrieved on September 21, 2018 from http://almanac-trial.blogspot.com/search/label/Melissa%20Goings  (I highly recommend this site AND his book Prairie Defender: The Murder Trials of Abraham Lincoln. Excellent reading! Here’s his main blog site: https://plus.google.com/+BobDekle) [5] The Lincoln Log: A Daily Chronology of the Life of Abraham Lincoln. Retrieved September 29, 2018 from http://www.thelincolnlog.org/Results.aspx?type=basicSearch&terms=goings&r=L1NlYXJjaC5hc3B4

Brown or not - that was the question: An Abe Lincoln Story

 

Abraham Lincoln like to tell the story about a well-to-do farmer who came by his Springfield law office one day, seeking a divorce from his wife.

When Lincoln asked the farmer the reasons for such a drastic action, the farmer complained that he and his wife had quarreled about the color to paint their new clapboard house. Explained the man, 

"I wanted to paint it white like our neighbors' houses, but my wife preferred brown. Our disputes finally became quarrels. She has broken crockery, throwing it at my head, and poured scalding tea down my back and I want a divorce!"

 Lincoln urged the couple to settle their differences for their children's sake. The farmer agreed to try.

One day, a few months later, Lincoln saw the farmer and asked how they were getting along. The farmer told Lincoln he and his wife had reached a compromise: 

"We're going to paint the house brown."[1]

 This was another tale from Abe Lincoln, storyteller.

Mac

Works Cited

[1] Leidner, Gordon. (2015) Lincoln's Gift: How Humor Shaped Lincoln's Life and Legacy. Naperville, IL: Cumberland House. pp. 230-231.

'On the circuit' - 3 Abe Lincoln courtroom stories

One of the most important periods in the life of Abraham Lincoln was when he “rode the circuit” in central Illinois in the 1840’s and '50’s.

The Eighth Judicial Circuit is where Lincoln developed as a lawyer and evolved as a politician; here, too, he formed many of the personal relationships that became so important later in his life as president and commander-in-chief.

Many of the traditional Lincoln stories—tales exchanged with his friends and legal associates, anecdotes from the courtroom, and so forth - also date from this period.

Here are three of them from Anthony Gross's book, Lincoln's Own Stories.

_______________

John H. Littlefied, a contemporary of Lincoln's, related this anecdote.

All clients knew that with Lincoln as their lawyer, they would win their case - if it was fair; if not, it was a waste of time to take it to him.

After listening for some time to a would-be-client's statement with his eyes on the ceiling, Lincoln swung around in his chair and exclaimed: 'Well, you have a pretty good case in technical law, but a pretty bad one when it comes to equity and justice. You'll have to get some other fellow to win this case for you. I couldn't do it. All the time while standing and talking to that jury I'd be thinking, "Lincoln, you're a liar," and I believe I might forget myself and say it out loud.'

_______________

In addition to being brilliant, Lincoln was also a person who believed in "getting even" with his friends for practical jokes. 

During jury selection for a trial, the opposing lawyer - and a friend of Lincoln's -  objected to seating a juror because the juror "knew Lincoln". Since the objection was "technically" a prejudicial statement,  Judge David Davis, the presiding judge, overruled it.

Lincoln, knowing the judge's ways in a courtroom, decided to return the "insult" to the other lawyer. He then proceeded to ask several jurors if they knew his opponent - but unlike his opponent - Lincoln did not object to their selection.

Davis, by now irritated with this line of questioning but missing the point of it, interfered. "Now, Mr. Lincoln," he said sternly, "you are wasting time here. The mere fact that a juror knows opposing counsel does not disqualify him."

"No, your honor, it surely doesn't", responded Lincoln with a grin, "but I'm afraid some of the gentlemen may NOT know him, which would place me at a disadvantage."

_______________

Lincoln's use of stories to explain complicated points of law was famous on the circuit. Judge H.W. Beckwith recalled this one from one of Lincoln's cases in Danville, Illinois.

Lincoln's client was charged with assaulting another man. Lincoln's argument was that his client acted in self-defense because the other man started an argument and then attacked him.

When it was Lincoln's turn to present his case, he told the jury a story. His client was in the fix of a man, who going along the highway, with a pitchfork over his shoulder, when he was attacked by a fierce dog ran out at him from a farmer's door yard. In warding off the brute with the pitchfork, its tines pierced and killed the dog. 

What made you kill my dog?" said the farmer.

"What made him try and bite me?" said the man.

"But why didn't you go after him with the other end of the pitchfork?" said the farmer.

"Why didn't he come at me with his other end?" said the man.

At this point, Lincoln whirled his arms around as if he had a dog in them and shoved the tail of the imaginary dog at the jury. This was Lincoln's way of explaining the defense's plea of "Son assaut demesne" - loosely, that 'The other fellow brought on the fight', and it was told in a way that even the dullest mind would grasp and retain.

Lincoln won the case.

These were more tales from Abe Lincoln, storyteller.

Mac

Works Cited

[1] Gross, Anthony (1912).Lincoln's Own Stories. New York City, NY: Harper Brothers Publishers. p. 26, pp. 35-36 and pp. 25-26.

The Justice of the Peace - Another Abe Lincoln story

 

Abraham Lincoln was well-known for his effective use of amusing stories to make a point – especially in the courtroom.

During his circuit riding days, Lincoln and a rival attorney were arguing a case before a small town jury. His opponent tried to convince the jury that "precedent" is superior to law, and that "custom" makes things legal in ALL cases.

After he sat down, Lincoln stood and approached the jury. He told them that he would argue the case in the same manner as his opponent had. He then began a story.

“Old Squire Bagley, from Menard, came into my office one day and said: ‘Lincoln, I want your advice as a lawyer. Has a man that’s been elected justice of the peace have the right to issue a marriage license?’

“I told him no; whereupon the old squire threw himself back in his chair very indignantly and said:

‘Lincoln, I thought you was a lawyer. Now, Bob Thomas and me had a bet on this thing, and we agreed to let you decide; but if this is your opinion, I don’t want it, for I know a thunderin’ sight better! I’ve been a squire for eight years, and I’ve issued marriage licenses all the time.’

Just because something’s always been done before does not make it legal.

And saying it is, doesn't either.

This was another tale from Abe Lincoln, storyteller.

Mac

Works Cited

[1] Gross, Anthony (1912). Lincoln’s Own Stories. New York City, NY: Harpers and Brothers.

What's in a name? A Lincoln circuit riding story

 

Abraham Lincoln maintained that the true "art" of storytelling was to fit the delivery to the audience. One part of that delivery - for which Lincoln was well known - was his ability to change the range, intonation, and pitch of his voice to fit the story.

While riding the Eighth Judicial Circuit, Lincoln often used that "art" to make complex points to a jury. Occasionally however, it came in handy for other reasons. A man named Stephenson, years later, remembered sitting in a courtroom in Bloomington, Illinois watching Lincoln on one of these 'occasions'. [1]

It seems Lincoln was defending a man who was accused of passing counterfeit money, and Lincoln's case was not going well.

Finally, the prosecutor called his chief witness to take the stand. When asked, the man stated his name - J. Parker Greene. When it was Lincoln's turn to cross-examine the witness, Lincoln ignored the entire testimony and immediately attacked the man's name.

Looking at the witness, Lincoln - according to Stephenson - drawled in a somewhat jesting - but suspicious way:

"Why J. Parker Greene? What does the J. stand for?"

"John," was the response.

Lincoln looked at the jury. 

Why didn't the witness call himself John P. Greene? That was his name, wasn't it? Well, what was the reason he didn't want to be known by his right name? Did J. Parker Greene have anything to conceal, and if not, why did J. Parker Greene part his name that way?

Stephenson recalled that although "the whole examination was farcical, there was something irresistibly funny in the varying tones and inflections of Lincoln's voice, as he questioned the changes in the man's name." 

But there was also something in Lincoln's way of intoning his questions that made the jury suspicious of the witness.

"To this day," Stephenson admitted, "I have never been able to rid my mind of the absurd impression that there was something not quite right about 'J. Parker Greene'."

This was another story from Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac 

Works Cited

[*] The statue shown at the beginning of this post is Lincoln the Lawyer by Lorado Taft. 

[1] Guelzo, Allen C. (1999). Abraham Lincoln: Redeemer President. Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans.

That Time Don't Count - An Abe Lincoln Story

In 2018, a Dutch entrepreneur made headlines by petitioning to legally change his birth year from 1949 to 1969. His reason? A doctor said he had the biological age of 45—and he thought it might improve his odds on dating apps.

It reminded me of a tale Abraham Lincoln once shared from his circuit-riding days in Illinois.

During a trial, a witness claimed to be sixty. The attorney, clearly skeptical, asked again. Still: “Sixty.” The lawyer pressed: “Sir, the court knows you to be much older.” The man replied, “Oh, I understand. You’re thinking of those ten years I spent on the eastern shore of Maryland. That was so much time lost—it don’t count.”

Even Lincoln chuckled. Some truths, it seems, transcend centuries.

(For the record, the Dutchman’s request was denied.)

Another story from Abe Lincoln, Storyteller.

Mac