The Emperor next mentioned Lord Sidmouth. “I am told,” said he, “that he too is a worthy man enough: but he possesses no great share of understanding. He is one of those honest blockheads who, with the utmost sincerity, concur in all sorts of mischief.”
“Sire,” said I, “in my time, Lord Sidmouth, under the name of Mr. Addington, was a member of the House of Commons, and was a man generally esteemed. He was said to be the creature of Mr. Pitt, who was understood to have appointed Addington as his successor, in order to ensure to himself the means of returning to the ministry whenever he should think fit. The public were certainly greatly astonished to see Pitt succeeded by Mr. Addington; as the post was considered to be very far beyond his talents. One of the English opposition papers, alluding to Mr. Addington, quoted the remark made by a philosopher (Locke, I believe), who says that the mind of a child is a blank sheet of paper, on which nature has yet written nothing: and the Journal in question humorously observed that when nature wrote upon the blank sheet of the Doctor (the nickname then given to Mr. Addington), it must needs be confessed, she left plenty of margin.”
“Well,” resumed the Emperor, “what do you know of that sad fellow, into whose keeping we have been delivered up—that Lord Bathurst?” “Absolutely nothing, Sire,” I replied, “either of his origin, his person, or his character.”—“For my part,” said he, with some degree of warmth, “I have no opportunity of knowing him, except by his conduct towards me; and in judging from that, I hold him to be the vilest the basest the most cowardly of men. The brutality of his orders, the coarseness of his language, the choice of his agent, all authorize me to make this declaration. An executioner, such as he has sent hither, is not easily found. Such a selection could not be made at random. He must have been sought for, tried, judged, and instructed. Certainly, this, in my opinion, is sufficient to justify the moral condemnation of the man who could stoop to so base a course. By the arm which he moves it is easy to guess what must be his heart!”
I must confess that, yielding to feelings of delicacy, I had at first almost prevailed on myself to suppress or to soften down the expressions above quoted: but on the other hand, certain scruples deterred me from doing so. The shade of him who was so deeply injured is, thought I, at this moment hovering above me, and seems to say:—“Since you make me speak, at least preserve my words.” Justice asserts her rights. Men, in the enjoyment of honours and powers must feel it incumbent on them to answer charges that are brought against them. Let the accused justify himself:—if he can, so much the better.
Speaking of Lord Castlereagh, the Emperor said:—“This man governs all the rest, and rules even the Prince himself, by dint of impudence and intrigue. Supported by a majority of his own creating, he is always ready to contend, with the utmost effrontery, against reason, law, justice, and truth. No falsehood staggers him: he stops at nothing, well knowing that he can always command votes to applaud and legalize whatever he does. He has completely sacrificed his country, and is daily degrading her by acting in opposition to her policy, doctrines, and interests: in short, he has entirely delivered her up to the Continent. The situation of England is becoming worse and worse. Heaven knows how she will extricate herself!”
“Lord Castlereagh,” continued he, “is, I am informed, looked upon, even in England, as a man politically immoral. He commenced his career by an act of political apostacy, which, though common enough in his country, nevertheless, always leaves an indelible stain. He entered upon public life as an advocate of the people, and he has finally become the engine of power and despotism. If all that is said of him be correct, he must be execrated by his countrymen, the Irish, whom he has betrayed, and by the English, who may justly regard him as the destroyer of their domestic liberties, and foreign interests.
“He has had the impudence to bring forward in parliament, as authentic facts, statements which he knew to be false, and which probably he himself fabricated: and yet, on the authority of these documents, Murat’s dethronement was decided. Lord Castlereagh makes it his business to belie himself daily in parliament and in public meetings, by putting into my mouth language calculated to prejudice me in the eyes of the English, though he is well aware that he is making false assertions. This conduct is the more base; since he himself withholds from me the power of refuting him.
“Lord Castlereagh is the disciple of Pitt, of whom he probably thinks himself the equal, though he is merely the ape of that distinguished statesmen. He has incessantly pursued the plans and plots of his master against France; but even here pertinacity and obstinacy were perhaps his only good qualities. But Pitt had grand views: with him his country’s interest took place of every consideration. He possessed talent and ingenuity; and from England, he moved the lever by which he ruled and influenced the continental sovereigns at will. Castlereagh, on the contrary, substituting intrigue for ingenuity, and subsidies for genius, is regardless of his country’s interest, and has incessantly employed the credit and influence of the continental sovereigns merely to confirm and perpetuate his own power at home. However, such is the course of things in this world, that Pitt with all his talent, constantly failed, while the incapable Castlereagh has been completely successful. Oh, blindness of fortune!
“Castlereagh has proved himself entirely the man of the continent. When master of Europe, he satisfied all the monarchs of the continent, and only forgot his own country. His conduct has been so prejudicial to the national interests, so incompatible with the doctrines of his country, and altogether presents so much the appearance of inconsistency, that it is difficult to conceive how so wise a people as the English can allow themselves to be governed by such a fool!
“He adopts legitimacy as the basis of his creed, and wishes to establish it as a political dogma, while that principle would sap the very foundation of the throne of his own sovereign. Besides, he acknowledges Bernadotte in opposition to the legitimate Gustavus IV., who sacrificed himself for England; and he acknowledges the usurper Ferdinand VII., to the detriment of his venerable father, Charles IV.