Cambridge, Mass: Harvard University Press, 1998. xii + 731 pp.
Illustrations, notes, index of cases, general index. $55.00 (cloth), ISBN
The World of Benjamin Cardozo: Personal Values and the Judicial Process.
Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997. xiv + 288 pp.
Illustrations, notes, selected bibliography, index. $29.95 (cloth), ISBN
I. Scott Messinger , New York University.
Courting Cardozo: The Law Professor, the Historian and the Craft of Judicial
lecture he delivered at Yale Law School
in December, 1923, Benjamin Cardozo, then an associate judge of the New York
Court of Appeals, offered some advice to those seeking to practice or
understand the judicial craft. "Justice is not to be taken by storm," he
counseled, "it is to be wooed by slow advances." Whatever one thinks of
this statement as a philosophy of law, it is clear that it worked as a
formula for personal advancement within the judicial profession, as
Cardozo's cautiously innovative style of judging earned him a seat on the
Supreme Court of the United States in 1932 at the age of 61. Of course, a
number of factors led President Herbert Hoover, a Republican from Iowa, to appoint a Jewish
Democrat from New York City to fill the vacancy created by the resignation
of Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes, Jr. Among these factors were Cardozo's
widely lauded personal integrity, his popularity and collegiality as a
member of the New
York state bar and
its judiciary, and his craftsmanship as a legal writer. However, it was
Cardozo's reputation as a moderate progressive, whose zeal for justice in
the individual case was tempered by his reverence for the common law, that
that Cardozo was a safe choice for elevation to the nation's highest
theme of "cautious innovation" drives the two recent biographies of Cardozo
under review, one by Andrew Kaufman, a professor of law at Harvard Law
School, and another by Richard Polenberg, a professor of history at Cornell
University. Both authors explore how their subject challenged the
oxymoronic implications of this term, and both go to great lengths to
divorce Cardozo from the liberal/progressive reputation to which he has been
wed since Joseph Pollard published his book about the Justice in the mid
1930s, and the New Republic began to market Cardozo as a progressive a few
years later. Kaufman is more explicit in his message that "Cardozo was
not such a thoroughgoing progressive as his reputation suggests," but
Polenberg makes the same basic point, emphasizing Cardozo's "ability to
navigate the shoals of continuity and change."
Despite the similarity of their conclusions about Cardozo, Kaufman and
Polenberg have written two very different kinds of biography. This is not
surprising, given that Kaufman has a legal background and devoted over forty
years to the project, whereas Polenberg is a historian who began researching
Cardozo's life in 1989. This difference in approach --the detailed study of
a man and his jurisprudence, versus the thematic treatment of a judge and
his times -- offers a window through which we might reflect upon the
relative virtues of wooing a justice by slow advances and taking him by
likelihood, the gentlemanly Kaufman would recoil from the suggestion that he
"seduced" Cardozo's story from a historical record tragically winnowed by
the destructive acts of the Justice and his literary executor--yet this is
precisely what Kaufman has done. He has reconstructed his subject's life
from the papers of his friends and colleagues, from interviews that he began
conducting in the late 1950s, and from a sensitive reading of Cardozo's
judicial and non-judicial writings. He makes particularly good use of the
Justice's class notes as an undergraduate at Columbia, and of the internal
memoranda that Cardozo and his colleagues wrote and circulated on the New
York Court of Appeals.
credit, Kaufman avoids speculating from the scant evidence that exists about
Cardozo's personal life. He resists, for example, the temptation to
sensationalize Cardozo's relationship with his older sister, with whom he
lived for most of his adult life, or his experience as a student of Horatio
Alger, the famous author and tutor who, it has been discovered, engaged in
inappropriate sexual activity with many of his young male pupils. Kaufman
keeps his readers focused on the details of Cardozo's life that bear
directly on the source of his fame -- his status as both a proto-Realist
legal philosopher and a great American judge who sought to balance the
imperatives of the common-law tradition against the demands of a society
increasingly dependent upon legislative innovation and experimentation.
Kaufman has been clear about his conception of the biographer's function,
remarking in his recent talk at Cardozo Law School that "the claims of
history seem stronger in connection with the history of the court than with
[Cardozo's] private life."
by this respect for his subject's privacy, however, Kaufman serves up a
rather bland account of Cardozo's progression from young advocate for New
York's commercial interests, to hesitant and doubt-filled author of The
Nature of the Judicial Process, to common law judge-turned-Supreme Court
Justice whose decisions were guided by "a respect for the democratically
elected legislature as a major source of social values." Kaufman argues
that Cardozo should be understood not as a trailblazing jurisprude, but,
instead, as a "facilitator" of the common law's evolution. Focusing
primarily, but not exclusively, on his tort and contract decisions, Kaufman
recharacterizes Cardozo's role in the development of legal doctrine -- from
the towering figure that his prominence in the pages of today's law school
casebooks suggests, to that of a man who gave eloquent voice to nascent
jurisprudential developments. This is not to say that this particular
biographer doesn't admire his subject, for it is clear that Kaufman
appreciates the kind of craftsmanship that enabled Cardozo to adhere to the
octrine of stare decisis while adapting the law to modern conditions.
Unfortunately, in his zeal to make Cardozo seem like a transitional figure
between nineteenth-century formalist and twentieth-century realist judges,
Kaufman portrays his protagonist as a man "without passionate
Cardozo does seem to have been a private man, and one who rejected the more
radical agendas of his progressive and realist contemporaries. Kaufman
reveals as much in his compelling account of the Justice's increasingly
tense relationship with Jerome Frank, which he concludes by announcing that
"Frank was simply too ethereal for Benjamin Cardozo." Nevertheless, it
is questionable whether a cloistered lifestyle and an unwillingness to free
oneself from the constraints under which common-law judges have
traditionally labored are qualities that can be characterized accurately as
"passionless." Indeed, Cardozo was passionate about many things in his life,
such as his family (to whom he was devoted), the jurisprudential notion that
duty precedes rights (a conviction that both Kaufman and Polenberg perceive
as animating his approach to common-law decision-making), and about
fostering and maintaining his reputation as a man of unimpeachable
integrity. Kaufman gives the latter concern short shrift; he mentions
Cardozo's instructions to his executors to destroy his personal
correspondence after his death but dismisses his determination to keep his
private life from public view as the unremarkable behavior of a man whose
private life was not that interesting to begin with. This approach is
unfortunate, not because the public wants or deserves more intimate details
about Cardozo, but because a great deal can be learned about the judicial
figure if one treats a degree of disengagement from the world as a
reputation-enhancing posture or strategy rather than as a simple character
trait or (non)ideology.
shortcoming of Kaufman's Cardozo is not that it lacks a sufficient
level of detail about Cardozo's life (there seems to be very little that is
discoverable that Kaufman has not found), but that it fails to interrogate
its own premises. That is, it begs the question why forty years of research
has produced such a lifeless portrait. Although Kaufman pays lip service to
the notion that "Cardozo was not a bloodless, idealized essence," his
description of him as "a hardworking man who lived well and was a little
obsessive in his personal life" does little to add color or humanity to the
quiet hero of George Hellman's sentimental biography published in 1940.
It is a curious brand of hagiography that produces, on the one hand, a
convincing response to Cardozo's critics who have accused him of sacrificing
candor to a progressive/liberal agenda, and, on the other hand, a portrait
of a man who is so disengaged that he lacks the very human qualities that
make someone a worthy subject of biography in the first place. Kaufman's
forty-year monopoly on many of the extant sources about Cardozo has ensured
that he would have few, if any, rival suitors in the effort to court the
true Cardozo into the pages of a definitive biography, and it is unlikely
that any more comprehensive work will emerge. Nevertheless, Kaufman's
book reveals the problem of treading too gingerly with a biographical
subject, as we are left with a sanitized portrait of a man whose passion for
privacy was, in all likelihood, more than "a little obsessive."
The World of Benjamin Cardozo, Richard Polenberg turns a slightly more
critical eye upon one of America's judicial icons, and, by titling his first
chapter "A Man of Fastidious Reticence," he highlights the importance of
privacy to his subject. Before we learn anything significant about Cardozo's
life, in fact, we are told that he "politely but firmly discouraged aspiring
biographers," and treated to a detailed account of Irving Lehman's burning
of Cardozo's personal correspondence, a "calculated act of destruction"
designed to "protect his friend's privacy -- not to mention his reputation,
memory, and posthumous fame." This chapter ends abruptly, however, and
one is left wondering whether Cardozo really disliked the attention he was
receiving or simply realized that his stature as a judicial figure could be
enhanced if he appeared to have devoted himself exclusively to thinking and
writing about the law. The possibility that Cardozo was as capable of
strategic behavior with respect to cultivating his reputation as he was in
fostering judicial coalitions and drafting legal opinions, is a subject for
further scholarly inquiry, but the notion that he was not merely a
"facilitator" of the common law's evolution, but a shrewd strategist with a
"deeply rooted system of personal values" is the major theme of Polenberg's
self-described social historian, Polenberg is interested in the context of
the controversies that confronted Cardozo as judge and Justice, as well as
the details of his biography that prepared him to face these controversies.
Unlike Kaufman, who treats Cardozo's life in strict chronological fashion,
Polenberg organizes his book thematically, examining Cardozo's attitudes
towards, and influence upon, some of the more controversial social issues of
the early twentieth century. Polenberg's account lacks many of the
interesting details about "Master Ben's" upbringing that appear in Kaufman's
Cardozo (such as the precise Torah passage that he read at his bar
mitzvah in 1883), and is not a very good source for scholars interested in
reconstructing Cardozo's daily life. Yet, in a certain sense, Polenberg's
account is more revealing of his subject than Kaufman's, as Polenberg places
Cardozo in the context of late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century
culture. For this reason, as well as his willingness to engage in some basic
psychological analysis of his subject, Polenberg has taken the measure of
Cardozo in ways that the more timid Kaufman has not. Of course, because
Polenberg has unabashedly "omitted [discussion of] his decisions in such
areas as torts and contracts" and focused, instead, "on cases involving
morality, scholarship, sexuality, religion and criminality," it is little
wonder that his subject emerges as somewhat more interesting than Kaufman's.
seeking to understand Cardozo's attitudes towards a number of social issues,
Polenberg looks beyond the opinions that the judge wrote, and even beyond
the arguments of counsel that he observed. Adopting a novel approach to
judicial biography, Polenberg takes the time to introduce the reader to the
litigants themselves, and to the details of the controversies in which they
were embroiled. The beauty of this approach, and its promise as a mode of
writing judicial biography, is that it humanizes the process of judging and
enables the reader to view the world through the eyes of any but the most
record-bound appellate judge, and not simply through his or her finished
virtue of Polenberg's approach to his subject, as compared to Kaufman's, is
most apparent in the treatment that each biographer gives to Cardozo's cases
involving gender and sexuality. Consider, for example, how the two authors
discuss Cardozo's opinion in Hoadley v. Hoadley, a 1927 case in which
the New York Court of Appeals refused to annul a marriage at the request of
a person married to a "lunatic." Whereas Kaufman explains Cardozo's
refusal to apply an old common-law rule that such marriages were "void" as a
simple matter of statutory construction, Polenberg makes a convincing case
that what lay behind Cardozo's decision to adopt an expansive reading of an
ambiguous statute that purported to modify that rule, was his intuition that
Hoadley may have exploited his wife's infirmity for sexual purposes during
the first six years of their marriage. Polenberg notes that the record in
this case did not support such an inference, but illustrates, with a
revealing quotation from Cardozo's opinion, the moral indignation animating
Cardozo's refusal to allow a husband to cast off a woman whom he had
previously exploited. Cardozo's comment that "[t]here is instinctive revolt
against the notion that infirmity of the mind shall be used as a pretense
for relief against satiety of the body" leads Polenberg to the conclusion
that "fears of male concupiscience" dictated the result in this case.
This reading offers more insight into the character of his subject than does
Kaufman's thesis that the Justice was simply "reluctant to engage in
creative use of public policy arguments in the face of opposing statutory
Although Kaufman relies as much as Polenberg on the concept of "duty" in
attempting to distill the essence of Cardozo's attitude and approach to
deciding cases, the historian's understanding of the term is much broader
than that of the law professor, who treats it largely as a means by which to
discuss the technicalities of fiduciary responsibility and proximate cause.
Polenberg is not equipped, by background or disposition, to engage in an
internalist discussion of legal doctrine and its development, and that is
precisely why he is able to paint a portrait of a man and his very human
failings in ways that Kaufman cannot. To acknowledge and appreciate what the
historian can contribute to judicial biography, however, is not to disparage
what Kaufman has wrought. His book is laudable not only for its wealth of
biographical detail, but for its comprehensive and readable discussion of
Cardozo's work in a number of technical legalareas. Despite its superiority
as a critical study, Polenberg's book could not, on its own, have filled the
gap in scholarship about Cardozo that existed before the publication of
these two volumes. Thanks to the complementary efforts of two very different
kinds of scholars, that gap has now been filled.
Benjamin Nathan Cardozo, The Growth of the Law (New Haven: Yale
University Press, 1924), 133.
Andrew Kaufman, Cardozo (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,
1998) [hereafter cited as Kaufman, with page number]; Richard Polenberg,
The World of Benjamin Cardozo: Personal Values and the Judicial Process
(Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997) [hereafter cited as
Polenberg, with page number].
Joseph Pollard, Mr. Justice Cardozo: A Liberal Mind in Action (New
York: Yorktown Press, 1935), Walton Hamilton, "Justice Cardozo: The Great
Tradition," The New Republic, 328 (July 27, 1938).
Kaufman, p. 248; Polenberg, p. 91.
Kaufman was granted access to these previously confidential documents under
a special arrangement with the Court of Appeals. Polenberg was eventually
given similar access.
Details about Alger's life, including the charges brought against him for
pederasty are contained in Gary Scharnhorst, with Jack Bales, The Lost
Life of Horatio Alger Jr. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1985).
See also Michael Moon, "'The Gentle Boy From the Dangerous Classes':
Pedersaty, Domesticity, and Capitalism in Horatio Alger," Representations
19 (Summer, 1987): 87.
The text of this speech is published in Andrew Kaufman, "Cardozo and the Art
of Biography," Cardozo Law Review 20 (March 1999): 1245.
Kaufman, pp. 571-72.
Kaufman, p. 154
Kaufman, p. 461.
Kaufman relegates this revealing fact to a footnote which appears on page
Kaufman, p.161. See George S. Hellman, Benjamin N. Cardozo: American
Judge (New York: Whittlesey House/McGraw-Hill, 1940).
Kaufman was urged to undertake the task of writing this biography by Felix
Frankfurter, a close friend of Cardozo's as well as the successor to his
seat on the Supreme Court, and by Joseph Rauh (Cardozo's last law clerk and
Frankfurter's first). To convince Kaufman, the two men gave him their
"personal Cardozo files, as well as regular help and encouragement during
their lifetimes." Kaufman, p. ix.
Polenberg, pp. 3-5.
Polenberg, p. xii.
244 N.Y. 424 (1927).
Polenberg, p. 146.
Polenberg, p. 145; Kaufman, p. 430.
Call Number: KF8745.C3K38 1998
Cardozo, Benjamin N. (Benjamin Nathan) 1870-1938
Judges -- United States -- Biography
Citation: I. Scott Messinger . "Review of Andrew L. Kaufman, Cardozo,"
H-Law, H-Net Reviews, August, 1999. URL:
“Kaufman has produced the definitive biography of the
jurist who remains arguably one of America’s greatest common law judges…
Kaufman’s portrait is of a judge who understood the enormous potential in
judicial innovation while respecting the limits demanded by the rule of
Mark Silverstein, review of Cardozo, by Andrew
L. Kaufman, The American Historical Review 104 (April 1999):