had the ability to
distribute among the nations of Europe their several portions of power
and of sovereignty, I would say that Holland should be resuscitated and
given the weight she enjoyed in the days of her De Witts. I would
confine France within her natural boundaries, the Alps, Pyrenees, and
the Rhine, and make her a secondary naval power only. I would abridge
the British maritime power, raise Prussia and Austria to their original
condition, and preserve the integrity of the Empire of Russia. But these
are speculations. I look at the political transactions of Europe, with
the single exception of their possible bearing upon us, as I do at the
history of other countries and other times. I do not survey them with
half the interest that I do the movements in South America. Our
political relation with them is much less important than it is supposed
to be. I have no fears of French or English subjugation. If we are
united we are too powerful for the mightiest nation in Europe or all
Europe combined. If we are separated and torn asunder, we shall become
an easy prey to the weakest of them. In the latter dreadful contingency
our country will not be worth preserving.

Next to the notice which the opposition has found itself called upon to
bestow upon the French Emperor, a distinguished citizen of Virginia,
formerly President of the United States, has never for a moment failed
to receive their kindest and most respectful attention. An honorable
gentleman from Massachusetts (Mr. Quincy), of whom I am sorry to say it
becomes necessary for me, in the course of my remarks, to take some
notice, has alluded to him in a remarkable manner. Neither his
retirement from public office, his eminent services, nor his advanced
age, can exempt this patriot from the coarse assaults of party
malevolence. No, sir. In 1801 he snatched from the rude hand of
usurpation the violated Constitution of his country, and that is his
crime. He preserved that instrument, in form, and substance, and spirit,
a precious inheritance for generations to come, and for this he can
never be forgiven. How vain and impotent is party rage, directed against
such a man. He is not more elevated by his lofty residence, upon the
summit of his own favorite mountain, than he is lifted, by the serenity
of his mind, and the consciousness of a well-spent life, above the
malignant passions and bitter feelings of the day. No! his own beloved
Monticello is not less moved by the