Reminiscences of Judah Philip Benjamin. with anyone who might be with me, and, therefore, limited the number of my pupils to two. Having these already, I simply declined without giving the subject much thought. Shortly afterwards, Mason (who with Slidell had come to this country as envoy from the Confederate States), accom panied by Benjamin, paid a short visit to my father — then Lord Chief Baron of the Court of Exchequer — at his country house at Hatton, near Hounslow. One of my sisters has given me an inter esting account of her meeting with Benja min on this occasion, and as it tells what many others must have felt when they first saw him, I will give a portion of what she remembered : — "On February 3, 1866, my father brought down Mr. Mason and Mr. Benjamin to sleep for a couple of nights, and a few county neighbors came to meet them. I had not seen Benjamin, and had pictured to myself an American of the Jefferson Davis type. To my surprise, when he entered the room, I saw a short, stout, genial man, of decidedly Jewish descent, with bright, dark eyes, and all the politeness and bonhommie of a French man, looking as if he had never had a care in his life. Next morning I was down early; so was he, and he gave me most interesting and thrilling details of his perilous escape at the end of the war. I was much struck by his generous candor. I asked him what the Northerners would have done to him if they had caught him, and he said proba bly they would have put him to death. When I exclaimed in horror at such an atrocity, he said, apologetically, that party feeling ran so high just then, that his side might have done the same, had the circum stances been reversed." The day after this visit, my father, seeing me in court, sent down a note, saying, "Have you done wisely in declining to take Benjamin as your pupil? " I gave him my reason; to which he replied, " Benjamin has no need to learn law, all he needs is to see
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something of the practice of our courts, and to obtain some introduction to the English Bar." On this, I thought I had been wrong, and fortunately was in time to revoke my first decision, and within a week Benja min was in my chambers, greedily devour ing every paper that came before him, and writing sound opinions. Among these was one of special interest. I was counsel to the Metropolitan Police, who occasionally required odd questions to be solved. One of these arrived in the shape of a small blue paper, endorsed, " As to the searching of prisoners," involving the right of the police to search persons in their custody before they have been convicted of any crime, for different purposes — as, for instance, to find dangerous weapons, stolen property, or possibly to take from a drunken man his watch or other valuables for their protection. I was leaving for court and threw it across the table to Benjamin, say ing, .' Here is a case made for you, on the right of search," alluding to the well-known international maritime difficulty which arises in time of war, and which had been keenly discussed upon the occasion of Captain Wilkes, on behalf of the American govern ment, overhauling the British mailship Trent, and taking from her Mason and Slidell, who were on their way to England as envoys of the Confederate States. Benjamin took the case, and at once set to work to consider the authorities and deal with the questions with such purpose that when I returned from court they were all disposed of. The only fault to be found was that the learning was too great for the occasion, going back to first principles in justification of each answer. Many years after, I was told that the opinion was held in high respect, and often referred to by the police and at the Home Office. The last time I ever saw Benjamin was when a farewell dinner was given to him by the Bar of England, before he ceased to prac tise, and left to join his wife and daughter at Paris. The Benchers of the Inner Temple
