Granville Sharp was born at Durham, in 1735. His family was of great respectability and of ancient lineage. His grandfather was Archbishop of York, confidential chaplain and counsellor of the renowned Chancellor, Heneage Finch, Lord Nottingham. His less conspicuous father was archdeacon and prebendary of the Church, who, out of his ecclesiastical emoluments, knew how to dispense charity, while rearing his numerous children to different pursuits. Of these, Granville was the youngest son, and, though elder brothers were educated for professional life, he was destined to trade, a portion being set apart by his father to serve as his apprentice-fee in London. With this view his back was turned upon the learned languages, and his instruction was confined chiefly to writing and arithmetic; but at this time he read and enjoyed all the plays of Shakespeare, perched in an apple-tree of his father's orchard. When fifteen years old, he was bound as apprentice to a Quaker linen-draper in London, and at this tender age left his father's house. Of his apprenticeship he has given an interesting glimpse.
"After I had served about three years of my apprenticeship, my master, the Quaker, died, and I was turned over to a Presbyterian, or rather, as he was more properly called, an Independent. I afterward lived some time with an Irish Papist, and also with another person, who, I believe, had no religion at all."[144]
Although always a devoted member of the Church of England, these extraordinary experiences in early life placed him above the prejudice of sect, and inspired a rule of conduct worthy of perpetual memory, which he presents as follows.
"It has taught me to make a proper distinction between the OPINIONS of men and their PERSONS. The former I can freely condemn, without presuming to judge the individuals themselves. Thus freedom of argument is preserved, as well as Christian charity, leaving personal judgment to Him to whom alone it belongs."[145]
Only two years before the enrolment of Granville Sharp among London apprentices,—that class so famous in local history,—another person, kindred in benevolence, and now in fame, Howard, the philanthropist, on whose career Burke has cast the illumination of his genius, finished service in the same place, as apprentice to a wholesale grocer. I do not know that these two congenial natures—or yet another contemporary of lowly fortunes, Robert Raikes, the inventor of Sunday schools—ever encountered in the world. But they are joined in example,—and the life of an apprentice, in all its humilities, seems radiant with their presence, as with heavenly light. Perhaps among the apprentices of Boston there may be yet a Granville Sharp or John Howard. And just in proportion as the moral nature asserts its rightful supremacy here will such a character be hailed of higher worth than the products of all the mills of Lowell, backed by all the dividends and discounts of State Street.
Shortly after the completion of his apprenticeship and entrance upon business, Sharp lost both his parents, and very soon thereafter, abandoning trade, obtained a subordinate appointment as supernumerary clerk in the Ordnance Office, where, after six years' service, he became simply "clerk in ordinary." Meanwhile, conscientiously fulfilling this life of routine and labor, not unlike the toils of Charles Lamb at the India House, he pursued, in moments saved from business and snatched from sleep, a series of studies, which, though undervalued by his modesty, the scholar may envy. That he might better enjoy and vindicate that Book which he reverently accepted as the rule of life, he first studied Greek and then Hebrew, obtaining such command of both languages as to employ them skilfully in the field of theological controversy. Music and French he studied also, and our own English tongue too, on the pronunciation of which he wrote an excellent essay.
These quiet pursuits were interrupted by an incident which belongs to the romance of truth. An unhappy African, by the name of Jonathan Strong, was brought as a slave from Barbadoes to London, where, after brutal outrage, at which the soul shudders, inflicted by the person who called himself master,—I regret to add lawyer also,—he was turned adrift on the unpitying stones of the great metropolis, lame, blind, and faint, with ague and fever, and without a home. In this plight, while staggering along in quest of medical care, he was met by the Good Samaritan, Granville Sharp, who, touched by his misfortunes, bound up his wounds, gave him charitable assistance, placed him in a hospital, and watched him through a protracted illness, until at last health and strength returned, and he was able to commence service as freeman in a respectable home. In this condition, after the lapse of two years, he was recognized in the street by his old master, who at once determined to entrap him, and to hold him as slave. By deceitful message the victim was tempted to a public house, where he was shocked to encounter his cruel claimant, who, without delay, seized and committed him to prison. Here again was the Good Samaritan, Granville Sharp, who lost no time in enjoining upon the keeper of the prison, at his peril, not to deliver the African to any person whatever, and then promptly invoked the intervention of the Mayor of London. At the hearing before this magistrate, it appeared that the claimant had already undertaken, by formal bill of sale, to convey the alleged slave to another person, who, by an agent, was in attendance to take him on board a ship bound for Jamaica. As soon as the case was stated, the Mayor gave judgment in words worthy of imitation. "The lad," said this righteous judge, "has not stolen anything, and is not guilty of any offence, and is therefore at liberty to go away." The agent of the claimant, not disheartened, seized him by the arm, and still claimed him as "property,"—yes, even as property! Sharp, in ignorance of legal proceedings, was for a moment perplexed, when the friendly voice of the coroner, who chanced to be near, whispered, "Charge him"; on which hint, our philanthropist, turning at once to the brazen-faced claimant, said, with justifiable anger of manner, "Sir, I charge you, in the name of the King, with an assault upon the person of Jonathan Strong, and all these are my witnesses,"—when, to avoid immediate commitment, and the yawning cell of the jail, he let go his piratical, slave-hunting grasp, "and all bowed to the Lord Mayor and came away, Jonathan following Granville Sharp, and no one daring to touch him."[146]
But the end was not yet. By this accidental and disinterested act of humanity Sharp was exposed at the same time to personal insult and to a suit at law. The discomfited claimant—the same lawyer who had originally abandoned the slave in the streets of London—called on him "to demand gentlemanlike satisfaction"; to which the philanthropist replied, that, as "he had studied the law so many years, he should want no satisfaction that the law could give him." And he nobly redeemed his word; for he applied himself at once to his defence against the legal process instituted by the claimant for an alleged abstraction of property. Here begins his greatness.