All of New England had become involved. Two state administrations were claiming the election in Rhode Island, and a clash was imminent. Until 1841 Rhode Island had operated under its colonial charter, which prohibited anyone from voting who did not own 134 acres of land. Therefore, seats in the state legislature were controlled by the older conservative villages, while the growing industrial towns, where the larger portion of the population was disfranchised, were penalized. That year Thomas Wilson Dorr, a Whig and graduate of Harvard, started a reform movement; and a new constitution was drawn up. This constitution was framed to enlarge the basis of representation and abolish the odious property requirement. But it confined the right of suffrage to white male citizens, pointedly shutting out the Negroes who had settled in Rhode Island. Quakers were non-resistance men; they held themselves aloof from politics, but they were always on the alert to protect the black man’s rights. All antislavery advocates wanted a new constitution, but they did not want a defective instrument which would require reform from the start. So they could not back Dorr. The Perry brothers, Providence manufacturers, wrote to their friend, John Brown, a wool merchant in Springfield, Massachusetts. “The time has come when the people of Rhode Island must accept a more comprehensive gospel of human rights than has gotten itself into this Dorr constitution. We have talked to him, and while he agrees in principle he fears to go further.” John Brown sent the letter on to John Greenleaf Whittier, Secretary of the Massachusetts Anti-Slavery Society. Whittier talked it over with the Reverend Theodore Parker, who was considering making a series of speeches in Rhode Island, denouncing the color bar in what was being called a “People’s Constitution.” “Why should not Negroes vote with all the other workers?” asked Whittier. “They would limit their gains in throwing out the old charter.” Theodore Parker sighed wearily. “It’s the workers who are doing this. Their own struggle has blinded them.” “Thee are right.” Whittier slipped into the Quaker idiom in moments of great seriousness. “They see the black man only as a threat.” Then their eyes met, fusing in a single thought. They spoke almost in one breath. “Frederick Douglass!” For a moment they smiled together, congratulating themselves. Then a frown came on Whittier’s face. He shook his head. “But Friend Garrison will not consent. Thee knows his attitude toward any of us taking part in politics.” Theodore Parker was silent a moment, drumming his long, white fingers on the table. Then his black eyes flashed. “Are we discussing politics? We are concerned here with the rights of men.” Whittier shook his head, but he grinned. “Thee had best take care! Quoting Thomas Paine will not help.”