Amazing Grace Page #4

I believe you all to be men of humanity.

If the wretchedness of any one

of the many hundreds of slaves stowed in their ships

could be brought to view...

Order! Order!

I can hardly believe my ears.

We can hardly believe your mouth.

It seems my young friend opposite

has a long-term strategy

to destroy the very nation that spawned him.

While I was in Virginia losing my

fingers in battle with the Americans,

he was busy appeasing them.

Now he would hand over the riches o

f the Indies to the bloody French!

If... If we didn't have slaves,

there would be no plantations.

And with no plantations, how

would we fill the coffers of the king?

Does my honourable friend

really believe that if we left off the trade,

the French wouldn't immediately

step into our place and reap the rewards?

All this food. There's only a

handful of people in there.

He's an optimist. Completely incurable.

Our defeat in the House

today was not unexpected.

But our intention was to

flush out the opposition

and discover how many people

would support us.

Yes, well, we certainly found

out who our friends are.

All 16 of them.

I... I sent a note of thanks

to everyone who voted for us.

How sweet of you.

Some of us know how to take defeat graciously.

- Something to with with breeding?

- On this occasion, it probably is.

Everything that is said at this

meeting is being taken down for our records.

My friend James Stephen has

agreed to be our secretary.

You were saying?

As you can see, not many MPs

have responded to our invitation.

Indeed, outside my own family,

there is only one: Sir William Dolben.

Sir William, what brings

you to this gathering?

I recently took passage from

Sierra Leone aboard a slave ship.

What I saw during those 15 days...

But I believe there are plenty of

others in the House who share your feelings.

- They're just afraid to show it.

- Shame on them!

No shame. No shame. Were I

the representative of a port city,

how could I tell those whom I represent

that I'm voting to end their livelihood?

Exactly so.

How can human beings be commerce?

- It's exactly this pursuit of lofty...

- Nothing lofty about simple humanity.

Please!

Perhaps we should begin this

journey with the first step.

We are talking about the truth.

So we should hand it out to people.

Drop it from church roofs.

Paint pictures of it. Write songs about it.

Make bloody pies out of it.

Go on.

There is a slave ship at dock in Tilbury

with twice the slave berths it is insured for.

I know that for a fact.

But how do we prove it?

Wilber.

- Dear God.

- Well, almost.

I've spent 18 months being torn apart

by you in the House, Mr Wilberforce.

I thought I'd find out what it feels

like to be on your side.

I see you've got plenty of food.

Any of you saints drink?

Well, this one bloody does.

Thank you very much.

Agh!

Not fair! Not fair.

I'm not well. My belly.

What's wrong with your belly?

Oh!

Besides, you're prime minister.

It is my ministerial duty to let you win.

So, what will we do with Fox?

- Put him in a box?

- Let him throw the heavy rocks.

- Provide the shocks.

- Put Lord Tarleton in the stocks.

Oh!

Oh, if the House of Lords could hear

the idiotic way we carry on,

they'd ban anyone under the age of 30

from holding high office ever again.

Well, at least with Fox on board,

the world will know we mean business.

The world doesn't know yet.

Nor will it, not until we're ready.

You were born for this, Wilber.

Sometimes I get giddy.

Why is it you only feel the thorns

in your feet when you stop running?

Is that some sort of heavy-handed

metaphorical advice for me, Mr Pitt?

Yes, I suppose it is.

We must keep going, keep going fast.

Thank you very much.

Gentlemen, would you stop the music,

please? Thank you.

Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you have

enjoyed our little tour of the estuary.

But now our sojourn is almost over,

I have a confession to make.

This trip wasn't purely arranged

to reward those MPs

who have supported me in the past year,

nor am I the only sponsor.

- What's he doing?

- Ladies and gentleman,

this is a slave ship. The Madagascar.

It has just returned from the Indies

where it delivered 200 men, women and children to Jamaica.

When it left Africa, there were 600 on board.

The rest died of disease or despair.

That smell is the smell of death.

Slow, painful death.

Breathe it in. Breathe it deeply.

Take those handkerchiefs away from your noses.

There, now.

Remember that smell.

Remember the Madagascar.

Remember that God made men equal.

All that winter,

we spread out across the country

gathering evidence for Parliament.

Thomas rode to Bristol, Liverpool, Plymouth,

talking to men who'd worked the slave ships,

ships' doctors who'd treated them,

slaves themselves who'd been whipped and branded.

Equiano published his account of his years as a slave.

He sold 50,000 copies in two months.

Spare a coin, sir?

Our supporters began to only buy sugar

produced without slaves in India.

Or they stopped using sugar altogether.

It seemed our message was everywhere.

At least now there was hope. Real hope.

We had a year to collect enough evidence

to convince Parliament of our case.

The planters and the ship owners

began to spread rumours about us.

They called us seditious,

secretly working to bring down the government.

Clarkson sat in a coach to Birmingham

and overheard someone claim that

I'd secretly married a slave woman.

But the weight of our hope made

it all seem like glorious infamy.

How long have you been taking laudanum?

I recognise its presence.

My illness and my crusade were

born around the same time.

What is your illness?

The doctors tell me it's called colitis.

They don't really understand it, but I do.

You see, sometimes my stomach

gets bored of being a stomach

and decides it's a sailing ship.

Then my heart gets jealous and

decides it wants to be a see-saw.

And before you know it,

my lungs are arguing with one another

whether to be lungs or sponges full of seawater.

Well, at least that's what

I tell my nieces and nephews.

Marianne tells me you like children.

My poor father almost went mad

when I told him I'd stopped

taking sugar in my tea.

I was 14,

reading your name in the papers,

willing you to win.

I told my friends there was actual

slave blood in every lump of sugar.

Has this been so painful to talk about?

It's only painful to talk about

because we haven't changed anything.

But, unlike the slaves,

I have opium for my pain.

Begging your pardon, sir.

I thought everyone was in bed.

She brings the breakfasts.

What time is it?

Does it matter?

That year we should have won.

With the evidence we had collected,

by natural justice we should have won.

Winds blow ships from Africa

to the Indies naturally,

as if the route were blessed by God.

Another argument in defence of the trade

is that the Newfoundland fishing

industry is kept afloat

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