and the Jesus that “gave the Mexicans hell.”
1 (Sensation, uproar, and confusion.)
The name of Zachary Taylor
had scarcely passed Mr.2 Garrison
's lips when Captain Rynders
, with something like a howl, forsaking his strategic position on the borderline of the gallery and the platform, dashed headlong down towards the speaker's desk, followed, with shouting and imprecations and a terrifying noise, by the mass of his backers.
The audience, despite a natural agitation, gave way to no panic.
The abolitionist leaders upon the platform remained imperturbable.
‘I was not aware,’ writes Dr. Furness
, “of being under any apprehension of personal violence.
We were all like General Jackson
's cotton-bales at New Orleans.
Our demeanor made it impossible for the rioters to use any physical force against us.”
50th Anniversary of a Pastorate, p. 30.
The scene recalled the descent of the Gauls upon the Roman Senate
The barbarism of Rynders
was confronted with the loftiest morality, the greatest personal dignity, of the time.
He found himself in the midst of Francis and Edmund Jackson
, of Wendell Phillips
, of Edmund Quincy
, of Charles F. Hovey
, of William H. Furness
, of Samuel May, Jr.
, of Sydney Howard Gay
, of Isaac T. Hopper
, of Henry C. Wright
, of Abby Kelley Foster
, of Frederick Douglass
, of Mr. Garrison
—against whom his menaces were specially directed.
Never was a human being more out of his element.
, a native American, of mixed German3
and Irish lineage, was now some forty-six years of age. He began life as a boatman on the Hudson River
, and, passing easily into the sporting class, went to seek his fortunes as a professional gambler in the paradise of the Southwest
In this region he became familiar with all forms of violence, including the institution of slavery.
After many personal hazards and vicissitudes, he returned to New York city, where he proved to be admirably qualified for local political leadership in connection with Tammany