At Oxford the student determined to go to the bar, and through the generosity of the first Lord Foley, who supplied him with funds, he was enabled to follow a profession for which, as he himself said, he felt "a calling." He had not been at Oxford a year before he became a member of the Hon. Society of Lincoln's inn, although he did not begin to keep his terms there until he had taken his bachelor's degree. At college William Murray was as diligent as he had been at school, and, intent upon renown, he took care to make all study subservient to the one great object of his life. He read whatever had been written on the subject of oratory,—translated into English every oration of Cicero, and retranslated it into Latin, until every thought and expression of the illustrious example was familiar to his mind. He applied himself vigorously to original composition, and strengthened his intellect by the perusal of works which do not ordinarily fall within the college course. He was still at Oxford in 1727, the year of George the First's death, and became the successful competitor for a prize when the students of the University were called upon, in the name of the Muses, to mourn over the urn of the departed Cæsar,—"of that Cæsar," as Mr. Macaulay has it, "who could not read a line of Pope, and who loved nothing but punch and fat women." A rival poet upon this occasion was a lad from Eton. Disappointment and vexation at defeat, it is said, rankled in this boy's bosom, and opened a wound which closed only with life. Be this as it may, the classic rivalry begun at school between Pitt and Murray became fiery strife between Chatham and Mansfield, fit for a civilized world to witness and to profit by.
From Christ Church to Lincoln's-inn was a transfer of abode, scarcely a change of habits or of life. Murray was four years nearer to his goal, but that goal had still to be reached, and could only be won by untiring, patient, and ceaseless endeavor. At Oxford he had attended lectures on the Pandects of Justinian, "which gave him a permanent taste for that noble system of jurisprudence." In his chambers he made himself thoroughly acquainted with ancient and modern history, applied himself diligently to ethics, to the study of Roman civil law, the foundation of jurisprudence, of international law, and of English municipal law. No drudgery was too laborious, no toil too dull. Expecting, from his northern connections, to be employed in appeals from Scotland, he made himself master of the law of that country, and when he was not engaged in these and similar pursuits, or at the Courts of Westminster listening to judgments, he would take his chief of all delights in the company of the juridical writers of France, "that he might see how the Roman and feudal laws had been blended in the different provinces of that kingdom." Not a moment was lost in making preparations for the victory which it was the purpose of his life to win.
Technical knowledge, however, came to enlighten and inform, not to burden and oppress. The mind of Murray rejoiced in freedom and exercised itself in light. Text-books were his handmaidens, he was not their slave. The exclusive labors of the great masters of his craft occupied his hours, but he still found time for other more interesting lore common to mankind. Craig, Bracton, Littleton, and Coke, all in their turns were trusty counselors and dear companions, but as welcome as any to his studious hearth was the living presence of Alexander Pope. Murray, while at Westminster, had been introduced to the great poet, and had been charmed by his exquisite powers of conversation. Pope was no less struck by the accomplished genius of the young Scot, "the silvery tones of whose voice," it is said, fell like a charm upon every ear. Pope, anxious for the success of the youth, visited him at his chambers, in order to teach him elocution. Once, says Lord Campbell, the young lawyer "was surprised by a gay Templar in the act of practicing the graces of a speaker at a glass, whilst Pope sat by in the character of preceptor." Teacher and pupil would spend hours together thus occupied. Mr. Pope, writes Bishop Warburton, "had all the warmth of affection for the great lawyer, and indeed no man ever more deserved to have a poet for his friend."
In 1730 Murray paid a short visit to the continent, and on the 23d of November in that year he was called to the bar in Lincoln's-inn hall. Never was lawyer better armed for the battle of life. How he had qualified himself for the practice of his profession we have attempted in our narrow space to show. With a rooted attachment to that profession, with a lofty ambition and noble desire to serve his country, and a consciousness of strength equal to the bravest undertaking; with a mind thoroughly imbued with the literature of Greece and Rome, as well as of his own country; with a perfect understanding of the codes of every civilized nation, ancient and modern; with an intimate knowledge and an accurate appreciation of the peculiarities of our mixed constitution; with a natural dignity of manner that commanded instant respect; with a clear persuasive power of oratory that never failed to win the sympathy of all to whom it was addressed; with a voice that in earlier days had been compared to the note of the nightingale; with almost every intellectual and physical gift which nature could confer, and with every gift gratefully received and assiduously improved, William Murray stood at the threshold of his career and waited calmly for his opportunity. It is sufficient to say that the opportunity came. Twelve years after Murray was called to the bar, he was appointed Solicitor-General by the Government which had risen upon the downfall of Sir Robert Walpole, and which knew how to estimate the value of so rare an acquisition.
The success of Murray in the House of Commons justified the reputation which the new Solicitor-General had already attained at the bar. His first speech, as member for Boroughbridge, fixed his position. He maintained it for fourteen years, when he quitted the lower house upon his elevation to the bench. When Murray accepted office under the Pelhams, another much more ardent and unscrupulous politician already in the House of Commons was writhing under the vexation of neglect. The Solicitor-General had met the ambitious youth before, and the recollection of their last parting was hardly likely to insure a cordial or a friendly recognition. Murray's first task in Parliament was to defend the employment of Hanoverian troops, 16,000 of whom had recently been taken into British pay. Pitt, at the head of the "Boys," as Walpole called the burning patriots whose services he had himself respectfully declined, and hounded on by the Jacobites and Tories, denounced the steps as "illegal, unconstitutional, a sacrifice of British to electoral interests, and a prelude to the introduction of despotism into this country." Pitt was created to denounce, Murray to defend. Overwhelming as the torrent of declamation and invective might be which Pitt knew so well how and when to pour forth, the barrier set up against it by the calm dignity, the perfect reasoning, the marvelous self-government, the exquisite tones, and conciliatory manner of Murray, was more than sufficient to protect him against submersion. A division taking place upon the Hanoverian question, Government found themselves in a large majority. Murray was pronounced to be a match for his rival, and George II. became suddenly as attached to the one as he had long hated and feared the other.
On the 3d of March, 1754, Mr. Pelham, the Prime Minister, died, and, had Murray's ambition soared in that direction, he might at once have stepped into the vacant office. He had long been the prop of the Ministry in the House of Commons, and was by far the most sagacious member of the Government. Throughout his Parliamentary career, what has happily been called his "clear, placid, mellow splendor" had suffered no tarnish, and had not been obscured by a single cloud. Always ready, well informed, lucid in argument, and convincing in manner, he had virtually assumed the leadership in the House of Commons, and his elevation would in no way have altered the aspect or proceedings of that assembly. The nation respected him, and the monarch regarded him with more than common favor. Murray, however, coveted not the prize. Mr. Macaulay, referring to this period in one of his masterly essays, attributes the conduct of the Solicitor-General to moral infirmity. "The object of Murray's wishes," he says, "was the judicial bench. The situation of Chief Justice might not be so splendid as that of First Lord of the Treasury, but it was dignified, it was quiet, it was secure; and therefore it was the favorite situation of Murray." Lord Campbell states the case more creditably, and, as we think, more fairly to Lord Mansfield. "From a high feeling," says the biographer, "that his destiny called him to reform the jurisprudence of his country, he sincerely and ardently desired to be placed on the bench, and the especial object of his ambition was to be Chief Justice of England." We remember that, whilst a lad, and destined by his parents for the church. Murray, of his own motion, dedicated himself to the study of the law, feeling a "calling" for that profession. Why Lord Mansfield had resisted every temptation in order to secure the eminence for which, it is not too much to say, he was in all respects better fitted than any who have won it, became evident enough within a year of his appointment to the bench. Moral courage he lacked; something nobler than its want led him to renounce the Premiership.
What Murray rejected the less capable and not over nice Duke of Newcastle Greedily seized. The Attorney-General, Sir Dudley Ryder, was elevated to the bench, and Murray, gaining a step in professional rank, was by so much nearer to the consummation of his hopes. Never was Ministry so thoroughly weak and so wretchedly unfortunate. The whole burden of defending it rested in the House of Commons upon the shoulders of the Attorney-General, and the feebleness of the Government was all the more painful from the manifest strength of the great master of sarcasm and invective, their unflinching opponent, growing in favor throughout the country, merciless in his attack at all times, but terrific in his onslaughts upon a foe worthy of his hatred, and capable of defense. Imagination cannot linger upon a finer picture than is presented in the persons of these mighty combatants; nor is the effect diminished by the fact that of their great achievements little remains beyond the bare tradition. We know that by a word, a gesture, a glance of his eagle eye, Pitt awed the House of Commons, and chilled it into death-like silence. We have heard how like a torrent his unpremeditated and impassioned oratory rushed into the hearts of men, expelling rooted convictions, and whatever else possessed them at the moment; how readily he spoke on all emergencies, how daring were his strange digressions, how apposite his illustrations, how magnificent and chivalric the form and structure of his thoughts—how madly spirit-stirring his high and stern appeals. We have read of the proud bearing of the austere yet gentle commoner, to whom it was a matter of sublime indifference whether in a debate he rose late or early, first or last, and who ever contented himself with simply following the current, and obeying the fine instinct of his own rapt mind, regardless of the speakers who had gone before, or were about to follow him. We have pictured to ourselves the commanding countenance, the characteristic action, the patrician manner that belonged to William Pitt as exclusively as his own wild and wayward genius; but records are wanting to establish all that we feel and know. Fragments of Pitt's oratory only have reached us, and of these but few can be pronounced wholly authentic. What that oratory must have been we learn from its effects. More is not vouchsafed us. What remains to us of Murray's speeches in Parliament is equally meager and unsatisfactory, but we may judge of his power by reflecting upon the character of the assailant with whom he successfully wrestled. There must surely have been wonderful capability of argument, vast knowledge, a faculty of persuasion irresistible in its winning grace, all combined in the man able, by the mere force of quiet intellectual skill, to bear the brunt of an assault which threatened demolition in its furious advance, and to turn aside blows intended for annihilation. Lord Chesterfield addressing his son, points to Pitt and Murray as to two great models for imitation. Contemporary history assigns to them the highest place among their fellows.
In 1756 Sir Dudley Ryder died, and Murray immediately claimed the vacant Chief Justiceship. The Duke of Newcastle was panic-stricken by the announcement. It has it said that from the beginning the Attorney-General had been the mainstay of the Government; but at this particular crisis his adherence was essential to its life. The nation was discontented and sullen, as well it might be. War, carried on in almost every part of the world, had resulted in lasting disgrace to England. Minorca had been lost to her through the folly or cowardice of an English admiral, and elsewhere ignominious defeat had attended her arms. Addresses from the Throne poured in, intimations of stopping the supplies were thrown out, and unmistakable references made to the conduct of the chiefs of the Government. Fox, the only capable Minister, resigned his office in fear and disgust, and, at the very moment when Newcastle turned to Murray as to his last hope and refuge in the coming storm, that cautious and resolute official respectfully demanded the promotion to which he had a right. Alarmed for his place and his head, the Duke promised the Attorney-General enough to make the fortunes of six if he would but forego his purpose. He should have the Duchy of Lancaster for life, tellerships and reversions without end for himself and his nephew, Lord Stormont; if he would only stay in the House of Commons until the address was carried he should have a pension of 6,000l. a-year; offers rose as Murray showed himself more firm. Temptation came in vain. Murray averred that he "would on no terms agree to remain in the House of Commons for one session longer, or one month, or one day, even to support the address;" he "never again would enter that assembly." If he could not be Chief Justice he would not be Attorney-General. That peremptory avowal was enough. To keep Murray from opposition, Newcastle conferred upon the country the only great boon he ever bestowed upon it, and made the Attorney-General Chief Justice of the King's Bench. The poor Duke gained little by the move. Forced in his naked helplessness to resign, he was succeeded by the Duke of Devonshire, who took care to appoint Pitt Secretary of State, and to give him the lead in the House of Commons.
Upon the 8th day of November, 1756, Murray was sworn in before Lord Chancellor Hardwicke, and created a peer by the title of Baron Mansfield, of Mansfield, in the county of Nottingham, and three days afterward he sat for the first time in the Court of King's Bench. "Over that great court," says Lord Brougham, "he presided for thirty years, and his administration of its functions during that long period shed a luster alike upon the tribunal and the judge." During that period, too, but two cases occurred in which his opinion was not unanimously adopted by his brethren; and of the many thousand judgments which he pronounced but two were reversed. In all his time no bill of exceptions was ever tendered to his direction, and "all suitors sanguine in their belief of being entitled to succeed" were eager to bring their causes to be tried before him. There were drawbacks to Murray's complete success in the House of Commons; there were qualities which he lacked whilst practicing at the bar. Mansfield wanted nothing to make up the perfect portrait of a British judge. In the Legislature he was helpless in attack; and both in the House of Commons and in the House of Lords he exhibited on more than one occasion a want of moral courage as humiliating to his friends as it proved profitable to his foes; at the bar, learned and able though he always was, yet wary circumspection even there cramped his powers and deprived him of the transcendent reputation which other advocates have earned. On the bench there was neither fear nor hesitation, neither undue caution nor lack of energy, to impede his great intelligence. There he sat, as above the common passions of humanity, surveying its doings with a mind unobscured by prejudice, as wide in its grasp as it was masculine it capability. His clearness of apprehension, his perspicuity of statement, his perfect self-command, his vast knowledge of every kind, were amongst the least of his qualifications for his high station. More preeminently than all was his heroic and almost chivalric devotion to the judicial office; his stern and unflinching love of justice, as distinguished from "the puny technicalities of an obscure walk;" his superiority to the favors of the great or to the clamors of the many, and his unquestioned spotless integrity. During a portion of his lengthened judicial career Lord Mansfield held a seat in the Cabinet, but nobody thought of questioning the purity of his judgments on that account. Toward the close of his judicial life Lord George Gordon was tried for Inciting the rioters who set fire to Lord Mansfield's house and destroyed his property. Lord Mansfield was the presiding judge on that memorable occasion, and it was upon his exposition of the law of high treason to the jury, and after his summing up, that Lord George Gordon was acquitted.
"The benefits conferred by this accomplished judge upon the Court and upon its suitors," says one of his biographers,—