disseminated in the Herald, James Watson Webb came up to me on the northern side of the street, said something which I could not hear distinctly, then pushed me down the stone steps leading to one of the brokers' offices, and commenced fighting with a species of brutal and demoniacal desperation characteristic of a fury. … My damage is a scratch about three quarters of an inch in length, on the third finger of the left hand, which I received from the iron railing I was forced against, and three buttons torn from my vest, which any tailor will reinstate for a sixpence. His loss is a rent from top to bottom of a very beautiful black coat, which cost the ruffian $40, and a blow in the face, which may have knocked down his throat some of his infernal teeth, for anything I know. Balance in my favor, $39.94. … As to intimidating me or changing my course, the thing cannot be done. Neither Webb nor any other man shall or can intimidate me. I tell the honest truth in my paper, and I leave the consequences to God. Could I leave them in better hands? I may be attacked—I may be assailed—I may be killed—I may be murdered—but I will never succumb—I will never abandon the cause of truth, morals and virtue."[1]
Webb's example was infectious, for in the same year Bennett was again assaulted, this time by a theatrical manager, Thomas H. Hamblin. "To me," was the editorial comment, "all these attacks, falsehoods, lies, fabrications are but as the idle winds. They do not ruffle my temper in the least. Conscious of virtue, integrity, and the purest principles, I can easily smile at the assassins, and defy their daggers.
"My life has been one invariable series of efforts, useful to the world and honorable to myself—efforts to
- ↑ Herald, May 10, 1836.
