Charles Sumner: his complete works, volume 04 (of 20)

And there are favoring circumstances peculiar to the present moment. By the passage of the Nebraska Bill, and the Boston kidnapping case, the tyranny of the Slave Power is unmistakably manifest, while at the same time all compromises with Slavery are happily dissolved, so that Freedom stands face to face with its foe. The pulpit, too, released from ill-omened silence, now thunders for Freedom, as in the olden time. [Cheers.] It belongs to Massachusetts, nurse of the men and principles which made the earliest Revolution, to vow herself anew to her ancient faith, as she lifts herself to the great struggle. Her place now, as then, is in the van, at the head of the battle. [Sensation.] To sustain this advanced position with proper inflexibility, three things are needed by our beloved Commonwealth, in all her departments of government,—the same three things which once, in Faneuil Hall, I ventured to say were needed by every representative of the North at Washington. The first is backbone [applause]; the second is BACKBONE [renewed applause]; and the third is BACKBONE. [Long continued cheering, and three cheers for "Backbone."] With these Massachusetts will be felt and respected, as a positive force in the National Government [applause], while at home, on her own soil, free at last in reality as in name [applause], all her people, from Boston islands to Berkshire hills, and from the sands of Barnstable to the northern line, will unite in the cry,—

THE GOOD FARMER AND THE GOOD CITIZEN.

Letter to the Norfolk Agricultural Society, September 25, 1854.

Boston, September 25, 1854.

My Dear Sir,—I am grateful for the honor done me by the invitation of your Society, and also for the kind manner in which you have conveyed it. But another engagement promises to occupy my time so as to deprive me of the pleasure thus kindly offered.

From the mother earth we may derive many lessons, and I doubt not they will spring up abundantly in the footprints of the Norfolk Agricultural Society. There is one that comes to my mind at this moment, and which is of perpetual force.

The good farmer obeys the natural laws; nor does he impotently attempt to set up any behest of man against the ordinances of God, determining day and night, summer and winter, sunshine and rain. The good citizen will imitate the good farmer; nor will he impotently attempt to set up any statute of man against the ordinances of God, which determine good and evil, right and wrong, justice and injustice. Let me express these correlative ideas in a sentiment which I trust may be welcome at your festival:—

The Good Farmer and the Good Citizen: Acting in conformity with the laws of God, rather than the statutes of man, they know that in this way only can true prosperity be obtained.

Believe me, dear Sir, with much respect,

Very faithfully yours,

Charles Sumner.

THE FUGITIVE SLAVE ACT TO BE DISOBEYED.

Letter to a Committee at Syracuse, New York, September 28, 1854.

Boston, September 28, 1854.

Dear Sir,—I cannot be with you at Syracuse, according to the invitation with which I have been honored; but I shall rejoice at every word uttered there which helps to lay bare the true nature of Slavery, and its legitimate offspring, the Fugitive Slave Bill.

That atrocious enactment has no sanction in the Constitution of the United States or in the law of God. It shocks both. The good citizen, at all personal hazard, will refuse to obey it.

Yours very faithfully,

Charles Sumner.

POSITION AND DUTIES OF THE MERCHANT,

ILLUSTRATED BY THE LIFE OF

GRANVILLE SHARP.

Address before the Mercantile Library Association of Boston, on the Evening of November 13, 1854.

Veluti in speculum.

ADDRESS.

Mr. President, and Gentlemen of the Mercantile Library Association:—

I have been honored by an invitation to deliver an address, introductory to the annual course of lectures which your Association bountifully contributes to the pastime, instruction, and elevation of our community. You know, Sir, something of the reluctance with which, embarrassed by other cares, I undertook this service,—yielding to kindly and persistent pressure, which only a nature sterner than mine could resist. And now I am here to perform what I promised.

I am to address the Mercantile Library Association of Boston, numbering, according to your last Report, two thousand and seventy-eight members, and possessing a library of more than fifteen thousand volumes. With so many members and so many books, yours is an institution of positive power. Two distinct features appear in its name. It is, primarily, an association of persons in mercantile pursuits; and it is, next, an association for the improvement of its members, particularly through books. In either particular it is entitled to regard. But it possesses yet another feature, more interesting still, which does not appear in its name. It is an association of YOUNG MEN, with hearts yet hospitable to generous words, and with resolves not yet vanquished by the trials and temptations of life. Especially does this last consideration fill me with a deep sense of the privilege and responsibility to which you have summoned me. I am aware, that, according to usage, the whole circle of knowledge, thought, and aspiration is open to the speaker; but, as often as I have revolved the occasion in my mind, I have been brought back to the peculiar character of your Association, and have found myself unwilling to touch any theme not addressed to you especially as merchants.

I might fitly speak to you of books; and here, while considering principles to govern the student in his reading, it would be pleasant to dwell on the profitable delights, better than a "shower of cent per cent," on the society, better than fashion or dissipation, and on that completeness of satisfaction, outvying the possessions of wealth, and making the "library dukedom large enough,"—all of which are found in books. But I leave this theme. I might also fitly speak to you of young men, their claims and duties; and here again, while enforcing the precious advantages of Occupation, it would be pleasant to unfold and vindicate that reverence which Antiquity wisely accorded to youth, as the season of promise and hope, pregnant with an unknown future, and therefore to be watched with tenderness and care,—to show how in every young man the uncertain measure of capacities yet undeveloped gives scope to magnificence of anticipation beyond any reality,—and to inquire what must be done, that all this anticipation may not wholly die while the young man lives. But there are other things which beckon me away. Not on books, not on youth must I speak, but on yet another topic, suggested directly by the name of your Association.

With your kind permission, I shall speak to-night on what this age requires from the mercantile profession, or rather, since nothing is justly required which is not due, what the mercantile profession owes to this age. I would show the principle by which we are to be guided in making the account current between the mercantile profession and Humanity, and, might I so aspire, hold up the Looking-Glass of the Good Merchant. And since example is better than precept, and deeds are more than words, I shall exhibit the career of a remarkable man, whose simple life, beginning as apprentice to a linen-draper, and never getting beyond a clerkship, shows what may be accomplished by faithful, humble labor, and reveals precisely those qualities which in this age are needed to crown the character of the Good Merchant.

"I hold every man a debtor to his profession," was a saying of Lord Bacon, repeated by his contemporary and rival, Lord Coke. But this does not tell the whole truth. It restricts within the narrow circle of a profession obligations which are broad and universal as humanity. Rather should it be said that every man owes a debt to mankind. In determining the debt of the merchant, we must first appreciate his actual position in the social system.

At the dawn of modern times trade was unknown. There was nothing then like a policy of insurance, a bank, a bill of exchange, or even a promissory note. The very term "chattels," so comprehensive in its present application, yet, when considered in its derivation from the mediæval Latin catalla, cattle, reveals the narrow inventory of personal property in those days, when "two hundred sheep" were paid by a pious Countess of Anjou for a coveted volume of Homilies. The places of honor and power were then occupied by men who had distinguished themselves by the sword, and were known under the various names of Knight, Baron, Count, or—highest of all—Duke, Dux, leader in war.

Under these influences the feudal system was organized, with its hierarchy of ranks, in mutual relations of dependence and protection; and society for a while rested in its shadow. The steel-clad chiefs who enjoyed power had a corresponding responsibility, while the mingled gallantry and gentleness of chivalry often controlled the iron hand. It was the dukes who led the forces; it was the counts or earls who placed themselves at the head of their respective counties; it was the knights who went forth to do battle with danger, in whatever form, whether from robbers or wild beasts. It was the barons of Runnymede—there was no merchant there—who extorted from King John that Magna Charta which laid the corner-stone of English and American liberty.

Meanwhile trade made its humble beginnings. But for a long time the merchant was of a despised caste, only next above the slave who was sold as a chattel. If a Jew, he was often compelled, under direful torture, to surrender his gains; if a foreigner, he earned toleration by inordinate contribution to the public revenue; if a native, he was treated as caitiff too mean for society, and only good enough to be taxed. In the time of Chaucer he had so far come up, that he was admitted to the promiscuous company, ranging from knight to miller, who undertook the merry pilgrimage from the Tabard Inn to Canterbury; but the gentle poet satirically exposes his selfish talk:—

The man of trade was so low, that it took him long to rise. A London merchant, the famous Gresham, in the time of Elizabeth, founded the Royal Exchange, and a college also; but trade continued still a butt for jest and gibe. At a later day an English statute gave new security to the merchant's accounts; but the contemporaneous dramatists exhibited him to the derision of the theatre, and even the almanacs exposed his ignorant superstitions by chronicling the days supposed to be favorable or unfavorable to trade. But in the grand mutations of society the merchant throve. His wealth increased, his influence extended, and he gradually drew into his company decayed or poverty-stricken members of feudal families, till at last in France (I do not forget the exceptional condition of Italy), at the close of the seventeenth century, an edict was put forth, which John Locke has preserved in the journal of his travels, "that those who merchandise, but do not use the yard, shall not lose their gentility"[141] (admirable discrimination!); and in England, at the close of the eighteenth century, his former degradation and growing importance were attested in the saying of Dr. Johnson, that "an English merchant is a new species of gentleman."[142] But this high arbiter, bending under feudal traditions, would not even then concede to him any merit,—proclaiming that there were "no qualities in trade that should entitle a man to superiority,"—that "we cannot think that a fellow, by sitting all day at a desk, is entitled to get above us,"—and to the supposition by his faithful Boswell, that a merchant might be a man of enlarged mind, the determined moralist replied: "Why, Sir, we may suppose any fictitious character; but there is nothing in trade connected with an enlarged mind."[143]

In America feudalism never prevailed, and our Revolution severed the only cord by which we were connected with this ancient system. It was fit that the Congress which performed this memorable act should have for its President a merchant. It was fit, that, in promulgating the Declaration of Independence, by which, in the face of kings, princes, and nobles, the New Era was inaugurated, the education of the counting-house should flaunt conspicuously in the broad and clerkly signature of John Hancock. Our fathers "builded better than they knew"; and these things are typical of the social change then taking place. By yet another act, fresh in your recollection, and of peculiar interest to this assembly, has our country borne the same testimony. A distinguished merchant of Boston, who has ascended through all the gradations of trade, honored always for private virtues as well as public abilities,—need I mention the name of Abbott Lawrence?—has been sent to the Court of St. James as ambassador of our Republic, and with that proud commission, higher than any patent of nobility, taken precedence of nobles in that ancient realm. Here I see the triumph of personal merit, but still more the consummation of a new epoch.

Yes, Sir! say what you will, this is the day of the merchant. As in the early ages war was the great concern of society, and the very pivot of power, so is trade now; and as feudal chiefs were the "notables," placed at the very top of their time, so are merchants now. All things attest the change. War, which was once the universal business, is now confined to a few; once a daily terror, it is now the accident of an age. Not for adventures of the sword, but for trade, do men descend upon the sea in ships, and traverse broad continents on iron pathways. Not for protection against violence, but for trade, do men come together in cities, and rear the marvellous superstructure of social order. If they go abroad, or if they stay at home, it is trade that controls them, without distinction of persons. In our country every man is trader: the physician trades his benevolent care; the lawyer trades his ingenious tongue; the clergyman trades his prayers. And trade summons from the quarry choicest marble and granite to build its capacious homes, and now, in our own city, displays warehouses which outdo the baronial castle, and sales-rooms which outdo the ducal palace. With these magnificent appliances, the relations of dependence and protection, marking the early feudalism, are reproduced in the more comprehensive feudalism of trade. There are European bankers who vie in power with the dukes and princes of other days, and there are traffickers everywhere whose title comes from the ledger and not the sword, fit successors to counts, barons, and knights. As the feudal chief allocated to himself and his followers that soil which was the prize of his strong arm, so now the merchant, with grasp more subtle and reaching, allocates to himself and his followers, ranging through multitudinous degrees of dependence, all the spoils of every land, triumphantly won by trade. I would not press this parallel too far; but at this moment, especially in our country, the merchant, more than any other character, stands in the very boots of the feudal chief. Of all pursuits or relations, his is now the most extensive and formidable, making all others its tributaries, and bending at times even the lawyer and the clergyman to be its dependent stipendiaries.

Such, in our social system, is the merchant; and on this precise and incontrovertible statement I found his duties. Wealth, power, and influence are not for self-indulgence merely, and just according to their extent are the obligations to others which they impose. If, by the rule of increase, to him that hath is given, so in the same degree new duties are superadded: nor can any man escape from their behests. If the merchant be in reality our feudal lord, he must render feudal service; if he be our modern knight, he must do knightly deeds; if he be the baron of our day, let him maintain baronial charity to the humble,—ay, Sir, and baronial courage against tyrannical wrong, whatsoever form it may assume. Even if I err in attributing to him this peculiar position, I do not err in attributing to him these duties; for his influence is surely great, and he is at least a man, bound by simple manhood to regard nothing human as foreign to his heart.

The special perils which aroused the age of chivalry have passed away. Monsters, in the form of dragons, griffins, or unicorns, no longer ravage the land. Giants have disappeared from the scene. Robbers have been dislodged from castle and forest. Godeschal the Iron-hearted, and Robin Hood, are each without descendants. In the new forms which society assumes, touched by the potent wand of trade, there is no place for any of these. But wrong and outrage are not yet extinct. Cast out of one body, they enter straightway another, whence, too, they must be cast out. Alas! in our day, amidst all this teeming civilization, with the horn of Abundance at our gates, with the purse of Fortunatus in our hands, with professions of Christianity on our lips, and with the merchant installed in the high places of Chivalry, there are sorrows not less poignant than those which once enkindled knightly sympathy, and there is wrong which vies in loathsomeness with early monsters, in power with early giants, and in existing immunity with robbers once sheltered by castle and forest,—stalking through your streets in the abused garb of Law itself, and by its hateful presence dwarfing all the atrocities of another age. A wicked man is a deplorable sight; but a wicked law is worse than any wicked man, even than the wretch who steals human beings from their home in Africa; nor can its outrage be redressed by any incidental charities, perishing at night as manna in the wilderness. Like the monster, it must be overpowered; like the robber, it must be chained; like the wild beast, it must be exterminated.

To the merchant, then, especially to the young merchant, I appeal, by the position you have won and by the power which is yours,—go forth to redress these grievances, whatever they may be, whether in the sufferings of the solitary soul or audaciously organized in the likeness of law. That I may not seem to hold up any impracticable standard, that the path of duty may not appear difficult, and that no young man need hesitate, even though he find himself alone and opposed by numbers, let me present briefly, as becomes the hour, the example and special achievement of Granville Sharp, the humble Englishman, who, without wealth, fame, or power, did not hesitate to set himself against the merchants of the time, against the traditions of the English bar, against the authority of learned lawyers, and against the power of magistrates, until, by persevering effort, he compelled the highest tribunal of the land to declare the grand constitutional truth, that the slave who sets his foot on British ground becomes that instant free. His character of pure and courageous principle may be little regarded yet; but as time advances, it will become a guiding luminary. There are stars aloft, centres of other systems, in such depths of firmament that only after the lapse of ages does their light reach this small ball which we call earth.

Be assured, Mr. President, I shall not tread on forbidden ground. To the occasion and to your Association I shall be loyal; but let me be loyal also to myself. Thank God, the great volume of the Past is always open, with its lessons of warning and example. Nor will the assembly which now does me the honor to listen to me be disposed to imitate the pious pirates of the Caribbean Sea, who daily recited the Ten Commandments, always omitting the injunction, "Thou shalt not steal." I know well the sensitiveness of certain consciences. This is natural. It is according to the decrees of Providence, that whosoever has been engaged in meanness or wickedness should be pursued, wherever he moves, by reproving voices, speaking to him from the solitudes of Nature, from the darkness of night, from the hum of the street, and from every book that he reads, like fiery tongues at Pentecost, until at last the confession of Satan himself can alone express his wretchedness:—

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.

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.

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.

It is in collision with difficulty that the sparks of genuine character appear. This simple-hearted man, now vindictively pursued, laid his case before an eminent solicitor, who, after ample consideration with learned counsel, among whom was the celebrated Sir James Eyre, did not hesitate to assure him, that, under the British Constitution, he could not be defended against the action. An opinion given in 1729, by the Attorney-General and Solicitor-General of the time, Yorke and Talbot,—two great names in the English law, and each afterwards Lord Chancellor,—was adduced, declaring, under their respective signatures, "that a slave, by coming from the West Indies to Great Britain or Ireland, either with or without his master, doth not become free," and "that the master may legally compel him to return to the plantations"; and Lord Mansfield, the Chief Justice, was reported as strenuously concurring in this opinion, to the odious extent of delivering up fugitive slaves to their claimants. With these authorities against him, and forsaken by professional defenders, Sharp was not disheartened; but, though, according to his own striking language, "totally unacquainted either with the practice of the law or the foundations of it, having never in his life opened a law-book except the Bible," he was inspired to depend on himself. An unconquerable will, and instincts often profounder in their teaching than any learning, were now his counsellors. For nearly two years, during which the suit was still pending, he gave himself to intense study of the British Constitution in all its bearings upon human liberty. During these researches he was confirmed in his original prepossessions, and aroused to undying hostility against Slavery, which he plainly saw to be without any sanction in the Constitution. "The word SLAVES," he wrote, "or anything that can justify the enslaving of others, is not to be found there, God be thanked!"[147] And I, too, say, God be thanked!

The result of these studies was embodied in a tract, entitled "A Representation of the Injustice and Dangerous Tendency of tolerating Slavery, or of admitting the least Claim of Private Property in the Persons of Men in England." This was submitted to his counsel, one of whom was the famous commentator, Sir William Blackstone, and, by means of copies in manuscript, circulated among gentlemen of the bar, until the lawyers on the other side were actually intimidated, and the Slave-Hunter, failing to bring forward his action, was mulcted in treble costs; and thus ended that persecution of our philanthropist. In 1769 this important tract was printed.

Thus far it was an individual case only which engaged his care. Another soon followed, where, through his chivalrous humanity, the intolerable wrongs of a woman kidnapped in London and transported as slave to Barbadoes, were redressed,—so far as earthly decree could go. Learning the infinite woe of Slavery, he was now aroused to broader effort. Shocked by an advertisement in a London newspaper,—such as often appeared in those days,—of "a black girl to be sold, of an excellent temper and willing disposition,"—he at once protested to the Chancellor, Lord Camden, against such things as a "notorious breach of the laws of Nature, humanity, and equity, and also of the established law, custom, and Constitution of England";[148] and in the same year, May 15, 1769, by letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury, he solemnly appealed against the Slave-Trade, and thus by many years heralded the labors of Clarkson and Wilberforce. "I am myself convinced," he said, "that nothing can thrive which is in any way concerned in that unjust trade. I have known several instances which are strong proofs to me of the judgments of God, even in this world, against such a destructive and iniquitous traffic."[149] In these things he showed not only his love of justice, but his personal independence. "Although I am a placeman," he wrote on another occasion, "and indeed of a very inferior rank, yet I look on myself to be perfectly independent, because I have never yet been afraid to do and avow whatever I thought just and right, without the consideration of consequences to myself: for, indeed, I think it unworthy of a man to be afraid of the world; and it is a point with me never to conceal my sentiments on any subject whatever, not even from my superiors in office, when there is a probability of answering any good purpose by it."[150]

Still again was his protecting presence enlisted to save a fellow-man from bondage; and here it is necessary to note the new form of outrage. A poor African, Thomas Lewis, once a slave, was residing quietly at Chelsea, in the neighborhood of London, when he was suddenly seized by his former master, who, with the aid of two ruffians, bought for the fiendish purpose, dragged him on his back into the water, and thence into a boat lying in the Thames, when, with legs tied, and mouth gagged by a stick, he was rowed down to a ship bound for Jamaica, under a commander previously enlisted in the conspiracy, to be sold for a slave on arrival in that island. But this diabolical act, though warily contrived, did not escape notice. The cries of the victim, on his way to the boat, reached the servants of a neighboring mansion, who witnessed the deadly struggle, but did not venture a rescue. Their mistress, a retired widow, mother of the eminent naturalist and traveller, Sir Joseph Banks, on learning what had passed, instantly put forth her womanly exertion. Without the hesitation of her sex, she hurried to Granville Sharp, now known for knightly zeal to succor the distressed, laid before him the terrible story, and insisted upon vindicating the freedom of the stranger at her own expense. All honor to this woman! A simple warrant, first obtained by Sharp, was scouted by the captain, whose victim, bathed in tears, was already chained to the mast. The great writ of Habeas Corpus was next invoked; and the ship, which had contumaciously proceeded on its way, was boarded in the Downs, happily within British jurisdiction, by a faithful officer, who, in the name of the King of England, unbound the African, and took him back to freedom.

A complaint was now presented against the kidnappers, who were at once indicted by the grand jury. The cause was removed to the King's Bench, and on the 20th of February, 1771, brought into court before Lord Mansfield. The defence set up, that the victim was their slave, and therefore property to be rightfully seized. Here the question was distinctly presented, whether any such property was recognized by the British Constitution? The transcendent magistrate who presided on the occasion saw the magnitude of the issue, and sought to avoid its formal determination by presenting the subordinate point, whether the claimant, supposing such property recognized, was able to prove the man to be his? The kidnappers were found guilty; but judgment against them was waived, on the recommendation of Lord Mansfield, who, be it observed, at every stage, shrank from any act by which Slavery in England should be annulled, and on this occasion avowed his "hope that the question never would be finally discussed." Sharp was justly indignant at this craven conduct, which, with all gentleness of manner, but with perfect firmness, he did not hesitate to arraign as open contempt of the true principles of the Constitution.[151]

Alas! it is the natural influence of Slavery to make men hard. Gorgon-like, it turns to stone. Among the judicial magistrates of the time, Lord Mansfield was not alone. His companion in contemporary fame, Blackstone, shared the petrifaction. The first edition of his incomparable Commentaries openly declared, that a slave, on coming to England, became at once a freeman; but, in a subsequent edition, after the question had been practically presented by Granville Sharp, the text was pusillanimously altered to an abandonment of this great constitutional principle; and our intrepid philanthropist hung his head with shame and anxiety, while the counsel for the Slave-Hunters triumphantly invoked this tergiversation as new authority against Freedom.[152]

The day was at hand when the great philanthropist was to be vindicated, even by the lips of the great magistrate. The Slavery question could not be suppressed: the Chief Justice of England could not suppress it. Drive out Nature with a pitchfork, and still she will return. Only a few months elapsed, when a memorable case arose, which presented the question distinctly for judgment. A negro, James Somerset, whose name, in the establishment of an immortal principle, will help to keep alive the appellation of the ducal house to which it originally belonged,—was detained in irons on board a ship lying in the Thames, and bound for Jamaica. On application to Lord Mansfield in his behalf, supported by affidavits, December 3, 1771, a writ of Habeas Corpus was directed to the captain of the ship, commanding him to return the body of Somerset into court, with the cause of his detention. In course of time, though somewhat tardily, the body was produced, and for cause of detention it was assigned, that he was the property of Charles Stewart, Esq., of Virginia, who had held him in Virginia as a slave,—that, when brought as such to London, he ran away from the service of his master, but was recovered, and finally delivered on board the ship to be carried to Jamaica, there to be sold as the slave and property of the Virginia gentleman.[153] As no facts were in issue here, the whole cause hinged on the Constitutionality of Slavery in England; and the great question which the Chief Justice had sought to avoid, and on which the Commentator had changed sides, was once again to be heard.

That the proceedings might have a solemnity in some degree corresponding to their importance, the cause was brought by Lord Mansfield before the King's Bench, where it was continued from time to time, according to the convenience of counsel and the court, running through months, and occupying different days in January, February, and May, down to the 22d June, 1772, when judgment was finally delivered. During all this period, Somerset, having recognized with sureties for his appearance in court, was left at large. To Granville Sharp he had repaired at once, and by him was kindly welcomed and effectually aided. Under the advice of this humble clerk, counsel learned in the law were retained, who were instructed by him in the grounds of defence. At his expense, too, out of his small means, the proceedings were maintained. "Money," he nobly said, "has no value but when it is well spent; and I am thoroughly convinced that no part of my little pittance of ready money can ever be better bestowed than in an honest endeavor to crush a growing oppression, which is not only shocking to humanity, but in time must prove even dangerous to the community."[154] On the other side the costs were defrayed by a subscription among the merchants. Hear this, merchants of Boston, justly jealous of the good name of your calling, and hang your heads with shame!

To the glory of the English bar, the eminent counsel for the slave declined all fee for their valuable and protracted services; and here let me pause for one moment to pay them an unaffected tribute. They were five in number: Mr. Serjeant Davy, who opened the cause with the proposition, "that no man at this day is or can be a slave in England,"—Mr. Serjeant Glynn,—Mr. Mansfield, afterward Chief Justice of the Common Pleas,—Mr. Hargrave, and Mr. Alleyne,—each of whom was patiently heard by the Court at length. The argument of Mr. Hargrave, who early volunteered his great learning in the case, is one of the masterpieces of the bar. This was his first appearance in court; but it is well that Liberty on that day had such support. For all these gallant lawyers, champions of the Right, there is honor ever increasing, which the soul spontaneously offers, while it turns in sorrow from the counsel, only two in number, who allowed themselves to be enlisted on the side of Slavery. I know well that in Westminster Hall there are professional usages—which happily do not prevail in our country, where every such service depends purely on contract—by which a barrister thinks himself constrained to assume any cause properly presented to him. If this service depended on contract there, as with us, the sarcasm of Ben Jonson would be strictly applicable:—