For complex reasons, I had occasion to look up the biography of this fellow, who is generally said to be the first unambiguously Jewish Senator in U.S. history (UPDATE: for the ambiguous one, see here). It turns out that it’s even more fascinating than I’d heard:
By 1852, Benjamin’s reputation as a eloquent speaker and subtle legal mind was sufficient to win him selection by the [Louisiana] state legislature to the U.S. Senate; he took office on March 4, 1853. During his first year as a Senator, he challenged another young Senator, Jefferson Davis of Mississippi, to a duel over a perceived insult on the Senate floor; Davis apologized, and the two began a close friendship.
He quickly gained a reputation as one of the great orators of the Senate, and in 1854 Franklin Pierce offered him nomination to a seat on the Supreme Court, which he declined. He was a noted advocate of the interests of the South, and his most famous exchange on the Senate floor was related to both his religion and the issue of slavery: Benjamin Wade of Ohio accused him of being an “Israelite in Egyptian clothing,” and he replied that, “It is true that I am a Jew, and when my ancestors were receiving their Ten Commandments from the immediate Deity, amidst the thundering and lightnings of Mt. Sinai, the ancestors of my opponent were herding swine in the forests of Great Britain.” [UPDATE: Several people tell me that a similar quote has been credited to Benjamin Disraeli. I take no position on this important dispute.]
He was again selected to serve as Senator for the term beginning in 1859 . . . [and] resigned his seat on February 4, 1861, due to the secession of Louisiana from the Union. . . .
Davis appointed Benjamin to be the first Attorney General of the Confederacy on February 25, 1861, remarking later that he chose him for the position because he “had a very high reputation as a lawyer, and my acquaintance with him in the Senate had impressed me with the lucidity of his intellect, his systematic habits, and capacity for labor.”
In September of the same year, he became the acting Secretary of War, and in November he was confirmed in the post. He became a lightning rod for popular discontent with the Confederacy’s military situation, and came to quarrel particularly with the Confederate Generals P.G.T. Beauregard and Stonewall Jackson. The criticism came to a head over the loss of Roanoke Island to the Union without a fight in February 1862. Rather than publicly reveal the pressing shortage of military manpower that had led to the decision not to defend Roanoke, he accepted Congressional censure for the action without protest and resigned his position. As a reward for his loyalty, Davis appointed him Secretary of State in March 1862. . . .
In the immediate aftermath of the end of the war, an unfounded rumor, tinged with anti-Semitism, that Benjamin had masterminded the assassination of Abraham Lincoln through his intelligence apparatus became popular. Fearing that he could never receive a fair trial in the atmosphere of the time, he burnt his papers and fled to England under a false name.
In June 1866, he was called to the bar in England, the beginning of a successful and lucrative second career as a barrister. In 1868, he published Treatise on the Law of Sale of Personal Property, which came to be regarded as one of the classics of its field. . . .
I should say that I’ve never been big on deriving ethnic pride from the successes of fellow Jews, just as I don’t think people should feel responsible for the misconduct of those who have shared their ethnicity. If I had derived such pride, I wouldn’t derive it from Benjamin, because of his role in trying to maintain the slave-owning regime. (I don’t know enough about the man to know how much moral condemnation he deserves, but I know enough to conclude that he doesn’t deserve much praise.) Still, it strikes me as a very interesting story.
UPDATE: Mark Kleiman has more on pride in people who share one’s ethnicity.
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