grievous error to suppose that this cruel, this worthless hydra has
any political feeling. In its triumph, it breaks windows; in its
anger, it breaks heads. Gratify it, and it creates a disturbance;
disappoint it, and it grows furious; attempt to appease it, and it
becomes outrageous; meet it boldly, and it turns away. It is
accessible to no feeling but one of personal suffering; it submits to
no argument but that of the strong hand. The point of the bayonet
convinces; the edge of the sabre speaks keenly; the noise of musketry
is listened to with respect; the roar of artillery is unanswerable.
How deep, how grievous, how burdensome is the responsibility that lies