There was once a slave ... : $b The heroic story of Frederick DouglassDu Bois, Shirley Graham
History
There was once a slave ... : $b The heroic story of Frederick Douglass
Du Bois, Shirley Graham
Douglass, Frederick, 1818-1895
But Robert Peel no longer backed the Corn Laws. He wanted the
drawbridges around Britain lowered forever. But he wondered how
could he, leader of the Conservative party, carry through such a
revolutionary change? He decided to let the present Parliament run its
course. In the next election he would appeal to the country: he would
carry the fight to the people. Then they could send him back, free of
all party ties and obligations, as a Free Trader.
But the weather is no respecter of parliamentary elections! The wheat
crop failed in England, like the potato crop in Ireland. People were
starving, and the Corn Laws locked out food. Peel called a meeting of
his Cabinet, and the storm broke.
The Cobden forces were ready. They held great mass meetings, with
Cobden and Bright enlisting every available speaker. Frederick Douglass
addressed crowds in Piccadilly, on the docks, and in Hyde Park. He and
John Bright went down into Lancashire. They talked in Birmingham and
other towns and cities about the worker’s right to have bread.
Then one morning a week before Christmas, Bright burst into the rooms
on Tavistock Square, waving a newspaper.
“We’ve won! We’ve won!” he shouted. “The Cabinet’s intact, the Prime
Minister is back, the Repeal stands! We’ve won!”
James Buffum rolled out of bed and reached for the paper. Frederick,
partly dressed, emerged from behind a curtained cubicle and clapped the
little man on the shoulder. John Bright had watched his wife die of
starvation while he sat at his spindles. But he could not fill enough
spools. He could not spin fast enough. She had died. So John Bright had
left his loom and joined Richard Cobden. Now there would be more food
in England. He stood clinging to the dark man’s hand--this new friend
who knew so much about suffering.
“I’m going home,” he said in his rich rolling Lancashire brogue.
“I’m going down to tell the folks myself. Come with me. We’ll be glad
together!”
So it happened that Frederick spent the Christmas in a spinner’s shack
in Lancaster. On Christmas Eve he wrote Anna.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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