Frederick Douglass was learning what it takes to make men free. In the spring he went up into Wales. He traveled, as he said in a letter which was published in the _Liberator_, “from the Hill of Howth to the Giant’s Causeway, and from the Giant’s Causeway to Cape Clear.” On May 12 he made a speech at Finsbury Chapel, Moorfields, which was published throughout England. William Gladstone addressed a note to him, inviting him to call. Douglass heard that Daniel O’Connell was in London, that the Irish and Catholics were joined in the coalition against Peel. Yet the Prime Minister carried his Corn Bill through the House of Commons with comparative ease. It began to look as if, in spite of Lord Bentinck and Disraeli, it would get through the House of Lords. Then they attacked Peel’s character. Returning to London in May, Douglass immediately sought out O’Connell. The old man greeted him warmly, but he was haggard and shaken. Also, he was on the defensive. They could not avoid the subject which was uppermost in both their minds. “He’s a lifelong enemy of Ireland, lad.” O’Connell studied Frederick’s troubled face anxiously. “But Richard Cobden proves that Peel will listen to reason. Cobden has won him so far along the way. His enemies are using the Irish question now to destroy him.” “He would tie Ireland to England forever!” The old man rose defiantly, shaking his white hair. On June 25 the Corn Bill passed in the House of Lords, but the same day the Commons repudiated the Minister’s Life Preservation bill for Ireland by a majority of seventy-three. Once more his enemies could say that Peel had betrayed his principles and fooled his followers. Three days later Peel tendered his resignation to the Queen. That evening Douglass, accompanied by O’Connell, made his way to the Parliament. “He will speak tonight--for the last time,” John Bright had told them. The members sat in their seats, strangely subdued. The contest between Peel and Disraeli was over. True, the Corn Laws were repealed--the gates were down. But Disraeli had forced Robert Peel out. He was finished. Yet the grimness which had marked his pale face in the past months was gone, and in his final words there was a sense of peace that seemed to reach beyond that time and place. “When Ministers appear to change their course, and lay themselves open to the charge of inconsistency, it were better perhaps for this country and for the general character of public men that they be punished by expulsion from office.” He did not blame them, then. There was no word of bitterness. Moreover, the credit for his reforms, he said, should not go to him. “The name which ought to be chiefly associated with the success of these measures is the name of Richard Cobden,” one who has achieved his disinterested purpose by “appeals to our reason.” There was a slight rustle throughout the chamber. It was as if the very shadows were listening.