He had come to California for rest and health. But in the
maelstrom of pre-war politics, he found neither "dolce far niente" nor
recuperation. He plunged without a thought of self into the fight for
California.
As he began to talk the crowd pressed forward, packed itself into a
smaller ring. Medlied sounds of converse died into a silence, which was
almost breathless.
For an hour King went on discussing clearly, logically and deeply, all
the issues of the Civil War; the attitude, responsibilities and
influences of California, particularly San Francisco. He made no great
emotional appeals; he dealt in no impassioned oratory nor invective.
At the close there was a little pause, so deep the concentration of
their listening, before the concourse broke into applause. Then it was
hysteria, pandemonium. Hats flew in the air; whistles, cheers and bravos
mingled. The striking of palm against palm was like a great volley.
Again and again the preacher rose, bowed, retired. Finally he thanked
them, called the meeting closed, and bade them a good afternoon. Only
then the crowd began to melt. Fifty thousand people knew their city--and
their State no doubt--were safe for anti-slavery.
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