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