HISTORIC

DOUBTS

RELATIVE TO

NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 

 Is not the same reason available in theology and in politics?... Will you follow truth but to a certain point?—BURKE'S _Vindication of Natural Society. _

 The first author who stated fairly the connexion between the evidence of testimony and the evidence of experience, was Hume, in his ESSAY ON MIRACLES; a work _abounding in maxims of great use_ in the conduct of life. —_Edinburgh Review_, Sept. 1814, p. 328. 

_NEW EDITION. _

LONDON:LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. MDCCCLXV. 

LONDON:SAVILL AND EDWARDS, PRINTERS, CHANDOS STREET, COVENT GARDEN. 

PREFACE. 

Several of the readers of this little work (first published in 1819)have derived much amusement from the mistakes of others respecting itsnature and object. It has been by some represented as a seriousattempt to inculcate universal scepticism; while others haveconsidered it as a jeu d'esprit, &c. [1] The author does not, however, design to entertain his readers with accounts of the mistakes which, have arisen respecting it; because many of them, he is convinced, would be received with incredulity; and he could not, without anindelicate exposure of individuals, verify his anecdotes. 

But some sensible readers have complained of the difficulty ofdetermining _what_ they are to believe. Of the existence ofBuonaparte, indeed, they remained fully convinced; nor, if it wereleft doubtful, would any important results ensue; but if they can giveno _satisfactory reason_ for their conviction, how can they know, itis asked, that they may not be mistaken as to other points of greaterconsequence, on which they are no less fully convinced, but on whichall men are _not_ agreed? The author has accordingly been solicited toendeavour to frame some canons which may furnish a standard fordetermining what evidence is to be received. 

This he conceives to be impracticable, except to that extent to whichit is accomplished by a sound system of Logic; including under thattitle, a portion—that which relates to the "Laws of Evidence"—ofwhat is sometimes treated under the head of "Rhetoric. " But the fulland complete accomplishment of such an object would confer on Man theunattainable attribute of infallibility. 

But the difficulty complained of, he conceives to arise, in manyinstances, from men's _mis-stating the grounds of their ownconviction_. They are convinced, indeed, and perhaps with verysufficient reason; but they imagine this reason to be a different onefrom what it is. The evidence to which they have assented is appliedto their minds in a different manner from that in which they believethat it is—and suppose that it ought to be—applied. And whenchallenged to defend and justify their own belief, they feel at aloss, because they are attempting to maintain a position which isnot, in fact, that in which their force lies. 

For a development of the nature, the consequences, and the remedies ofthis mistake, the reader is referred to "Hinds on Inspiration, " pp. 30-46. If such a development is to be found in any earlier works, theAuthor of the following pages at least has never chanced to meet withany attempt of the kind. [2]

It has been objected, again, by some persons of no great logicalaccuracy of thought, that as there would not be any _moral blame_imputable to one who should seriously disbelieve, or doubt, theexistence of Buonaparte, so neither is a rejection of theScripture-histories to be considered as implying anything morallyculpable. 

The same objection, such as it is, would apply equally to many of theParables of the New Testament. It might be said, for instance, that asa woman who should decline taking the trouble of searching for herlost "piece of silver, " or a merchant who should neglect making anadvantageous purchase of a "goodly pearl, " would be guilty of no moralwrong, it must follow that there is nothing morally wrong inneglecting to reclaim a lost sinner, or in rejecting the Gospel, &c. 

But any man of common sense readily perceives that the force of theseparables consists in the circumstance that men do _not_ usually showthis carelessness about temporal goods; and, therefore, are guilty ofgross and culpable _inconsistency_, if they are comparativelycareless about what is far more important. 

So, also, in the present case. If any man's mind were so constitutedas to reject the same evidence in _all_ matters alike—if, forinstance, he really doubted or disbelieved the existence ofBuonaparte, and considered the Egyptian pyramids as fabulous, because, forsooth, he had no "experience" of the erection of such hugestructures, and _had_ experience of travellers telling huge lies—hewould be regarded, perhaps, as very silly, or as insane, but not asmorally culpable. But if (as is intimated in the concluding sentenceof this work) a man is influenced in one case by objections which, inanother case, he would deride, then he stands convicted of beingunfairly biassed by his prejudices. 

It is only necessary to add, that as this work first appeared in theyear 1819, many things are spoken of in the present tense, to whichthe past would now be applicable. 

Postscripts have been added to successive editions in reference tosubsequent occurrences. 

FOOTNOTES:

[1] It was observed by some reviewer, that Hume himself, had he beenalive, would doubtless have highly enjoyed the joke! But even thosewho have the greatest delight in ridicule, do not relish jokes at_their own expense_. Hume may have inwardly laughed, while mystifyinghis readers with arguments which he himself perceived to be futile. But he did not mean the readers to perceive this. And it is not likelythat he would have been amused at seeing his own fallacies exposed andheld up to derision. 

[2] See _Elements of Rhetoric_, p. I. Ch. 2, § 4. 

 * * * * *

HISTORIC DOUBTSRELATIVE TONAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 

Long as the public attention has been occupied by the extraordinarypersonage from whose ambition we are supposed to have so narrowlyescaped, the subject seems to have lost scarcely anything of itsinterest. We are still occupied in recounting the exploits, discussingthe character, inquiring into the present situation, and evenconjecturing as to the future prospects of Napoleon Buonaparte. 

Nor is this at all to be wondered at, if we consider the veryextraordinary nature of those exploits, and of that character; theirgreatness and extensive importance, as well as the unexampledstrangeness of the events, and also that strong additional stimulant, the mysterious uncertainty that hangs over the character of the man. If it be doubtful whether any history (exclusive of such as isconfessedly fabulous) ever attributed to its hero such a series ofwonderful achievements compressed into so small a space of time, itis certain that to no one were ever assigned so many dissimilarcharacters. 

It is true, indeed, that party-prejudices have drawn a favourable andan unfavourable portrait of almost every eminent man; but amidst allthe diversities of colouring, something of the same general outline isalways distinguishable. And even the virtues in the one descriptionbear some resemblance to the vices of another: rashness, for instance, will be called courage, or courage, rashness; heroic firmness, andobstinate pride, will correspond in the two opposite descriptions; andin some leading features both will agree. Neither the friends nor theenemies of Philip of Macedon, or of Julius Cæsar, ever questionedtheir COURAGE, or their MILITARY SKILL. 

With Buonaparte, however, it has been otherwise. This obscure Corsicanadventurer, a man, according to some, of extraordinary talents andcourage, according to others, of very moderate abilities, and a rankcoward, advanced rapidly in the French army, obtained a high command, gained a series of important victories, and, elated by success, embarked in an expedition against Egypt; which was planned andconducted, according to some, with the most consummate skill, according to others, with the utmost wildness and folly: he wasunsuccessful, however; and leaving the army in Egypt in a verydistressed situation, he returned to France, and found the nation, orat least the army, so favourably disposed towards him, that he wasenabled, with the utmost ease, to overthrow the existing government, and obtain for himself the supreme power; at first, under the modestappellation of Consul, but afterwards with the more sounding title ofEmperor. While in possession of this power, he overthrew the mostpowerful coalitions of the other European States against him; andthough driven from the sea by the British fleets, overran nearly thewhole continent, triumphant; finishing a war, not unfrequently, in asingle campaign, he entered the capitals of most of the hostilepotentates, deposed and created Kings at his pleasure, and appearedthe virtual sovereign of the chief part of the continent, from thefrontiers of Spain to those of Russia. Even those countries we findhim invading with prodigious armies, defeating their forces, penetrating to their capitals, and threatening their totalsubjugation. But at Moscow his progress is stopped: a winter ofunusual severity, co-operating with the efforts of the Russians, totally destroys his enormous host: and the German sovereigns throwoff the yoke, and combine to oppose him. He raises another vast army, which is also ruined at Leipsic; and again another, with which, like asecond Antæus, he for some time maintains himself in France; but isfinally defeated, deposed, and banished to the island of Elba, ofwhich the sovereignty is conferred on him. Thence he returns, in aboutnine months, at the head of 600 men, to attempt the deposition of KingLouis, who had been peaceably recalled; the French nation declare inhis favour, and he is reinstated without a struggle. He raises anothergreat army to oppose the allied powers, which is totally defeated atWaterloo; he is a second time deposed, surrenders to the British, andis placed in confinement at the island of St. Helena. Such is theoutline of the eventful history presented to us; in the detail ofwhich, however, there is almost every conceivable variety ofstatement; while the motives and conduct of the chief actor areinvolved in still greater doubt, and the subject of still more eagercontroversy. 

 * * * * *

In the midst of these controversies, the preliminary question, concerning the _existence_ of this extraordinary personage, seemsnever to have occurred to any one as a matter of doubt; and to showeven the smallest hesitation in admitting it, would probably beregarded as an excess of scepticism; on the ground that this pointhas always been taken for granted by the disputants on all sides, being indeed implied by the very nature of their disputes. 

But is it in fact found that _undisputed_ points are always such ashave been the most carefully examined as to the evidence on which theyrest? that facts or principles which are taken for granted, withoutcontroversy, as the common basis of opposite opinions, are alwaysthemselves established on sufficient grounds? On the contrary, is notany such fundamental point, from the very circumstance of its beingtaken for granted at once, and the attention drawn off to some otherquestion, likely to be admitted on insufficient evidence, and theflaws in that evidence overlooked?

Experience will teach us that such instances often occur: witness thewell-known anecdote of the Royal Society; to whom King Charles II. Proposed as a question, whence it is that a vessel of water receivesno addition of weight from a live fish being put into it, though itdoes, if the fish be dead. Various solutions, of great ingenuity, wereproposed, discussed, objected to, and defended; nor was it till theyhad been long bewildered in the inquiry, that it occurred to them _totry the experiment_; by which they at once ascertained that thephenomenon which they were striving to account for, —which was theacknowledged basis and substratum, as it were, of their debates, —hadno existence but in the invention of the witty monarch. [3]

Another instance of the same kind is so very remarkable that I cannotforbear mentioning it. It was objected to the system of Copernicuswhen first brought forward, that if the earth turned on its axis, ashe represented, a stone dropped from the summit of a tower would notfall at the foot of it, but at a great distance to the west; _in thesame manner as a stone dropped from the mast-head of a ship in fullsail, does not fall at the foot of the mast, but towards the stern_. To this it was answered, that a stone being a _part_ of the earthobeys the same laws, and moves with it; whereas, it is no part of theship; of which, consequently, its motion is independent. This solutionwas admitted by some, but opposed by others; and the controversy wenton with spirit; nor was it till _one hundred years_ after the death ofCopernicus, that the experiment being tried, it was ascertained thatthe stone thus dropped from the head of the mast _does_ fall at thefoot of it![4]

Let it be observed that I am not now impugning any one particularnarrative; but merely showing generally, that what is _unquestioned_is not necessarily unquestionable; since men will often, at the verymoment when they are accurately sifting the evidence of some disputedpoint, admit hastily, and on the most insufficient grounds, what theyhave been accustomed to see taken for granted. 

The celebrated Hume[5] has pointed out, also, the readiness with whichmen believe, on very slight evidence, any story that pleases theirimagination by its admirable and marvellous character. Such hastycredulity, however, as he well remarks, is utterly unworthy of aphilosophical mind; which should rather suspend its judgment the more, in proportion to the strangeness of the account, and yield to none butthe most decisive and unimpeachable proofs. 

Let it, then, be allowed us, as is surely reasonable, just to inquire, with respect to the extraordinary story I have been speaking of, onwhat evidence we believe it. We shall be told that it is _notorious_;i. E. , in plain English, it is very _much talked about_. But as thegenerality of those who talk about Buonaparte do not even pretend tospeak from _their own authority_, but merely to repeat what they havecasually heard, we cannot reckon them as, in any degree, witnesses;but must allow ninety-nine hundredths of what we are told to be merehearsay, which would not be at all the more worthy of credit even ifit were repeated by ten times as many more. As for those who professto have _personally known_ Napoleon Buonaparte, and to have_themselves witnessed_ his transactions, I write not for them. _If anysuch there be_, who are inwardly conscious of the truth of all theyrelate, I have nothing to say to them, but to beg that they will betolerant and charitable towards their neighbours, who have not thesame means of ascertaining the truth, and who may well be excused forremaining doubtful about such extraordinary events, till mostunanswerable proofs shall be adduced. "I would not have believed sucha thing, if I had not seen it, " is a common preface or appendix to anarrative of marvels; and usually calls forth from an intelligenthearer the appropriate answer, "_no more will I_. "

Let us, however, endeavour to trace up some of this hearsay evidenceas far towards its source as we are able. Most persons would refer tothe _newspapers_ as the authority from which their knowledge on thesubject was derived; so that, generally speaking, we may say it is onthe testimony of the newspapers that men believe in the existence andexploits of Napoleon Buonaparte. 

It is rather a remarkable circumstance, that it is common to hearEnglishmen speak of the impudent fabrications of foreign newspapers, and express wonder that any one can be found to credit them; whilethey conceive that, in this favoured land, the liberty of the press isa sufficient security for veracity. It is true they often speakcontemptuously of such "newspaper-stories" as last but a short time;indeed they continually see them contradicted within a day or two inthe same paper, or their falsity detected by some journal of anopposite party; but still whatever is _long adhered to_ and often_repeated_, especially if it also appear in _several different_papers (and this, though they notoriously copy from one another), isalmost sure to be generally believed. Whence this high respect whichis practically paid to newspaper authority? Do men think, that becausea witness has been perpetually detected in falsehood, he may thereforebe the more safely believed whenever he is _not_ detected? or doesadherence to a story, and frequent repetition of it, render it themore credible? On the contrary, is it not a common remark in othercases, that a liar will generally stand to and reiterate what he hasonce said, merely because he _has_ said it?

Let us, if possible, divest ourselves of this superstitious venerationfor everything that appears "in print, " and examine a little moresystematically the evidence which is adduced. 

 * * * * *

I suppose it will not be denied that the three following are among themost important points to be ascertained, in deciding on thecredibility of witnesses; first, whether they have the means ofgaining correct _information_; secondly, whether they have any_interest_ in concealing truth, or propagating falsehood; and, thirdly, whether they _agree_ in their testimony. Let us examine thepresent witnesses upon all these points. 

First, what means have the editors of newspapers for giving correctinformation? We know not, except from their own statements. Besideswhat is copied from other journals, foreign or British, (which isusually more than three-fourths of the news published, )[6] theyprofess to refer to the authority of certain "private correspondents"abroad; _who_ these correspondents are, what means they have ofobtaining information, or whether they exist at all, we have no way ofascertaining. We find ourselves in the condition of the Hindoos, whoare told by their priests that the earth stands on an elephant, andthe elephant on a tortoise; but are left to find out for themselveswhat the tortoise stands on, or whether it stands on anything at all. 

So much for our clear knowledge of the means of _information_possessed by these witnesses; next, for the grounds on which we are tocalculate on their _veracity_. 

Have they not a manifest interest in circulating the wonderfulaccounts of Napoleon Buonaparte and his achievements, whether true orfalse? Few would read newspapers if they did not sometimes findwonderful or important news in them; and we may safely say that nosubject was ever found so inexhaustibly interesting as the present. 

It may be urged, however, that there are several adverse politicalparties, of which the various public prints are respectively theorgans, and who would not fail to expose each other's fabrications. [7]Doubtless they would, if they could do so without at the same timeexposing _their own_; but identity of interests may induce acommunity of operations up to a certain point. And let it be observedthat the object of contention between these rival parties is, _who_shall have the administration of public affairs, the control of publicexpenditure, and the disposal of places: the question, I say, is, notwhether the people shall be governed or not, but, _by which party_they shall be governed;—not whether the taxes shall be paid or not, but _who_ shall _receive_ them. Now, it must be admitted thatBuonaparte is a political bugbear, most convenient to _any_administration: "if you do not adopt our measures and reject those ofour opponents, Buonaparte will be sure to prevail over you; if you donot submit to the Government, at least under _our_ administration, this formidable enemy will take advantage of your insubordination, toconquer and enslave you: pay your taxes cheerfully, or the tremendousBuonaparte will take all from you. " Buonaparte, in short, was theburden of every song; his redoubted name was the charm which alwayssucceeded in unloosing the purse-strings of the nation. And let us notbe too sure, [8] safe as we now think ourselves, that some occasion maynot occur for again producing on the stage so useful a personage: itis not merely to naughty children in the nursery that the threat ofbeing "given to Buonaparte" has proved effectual. 

It is surely probable, therefore, that, with an object substantiallythe same, all parties may have availed themselves of one commoninstrument. It is not necessary to suppose that for this purpose theysecretly entered into a formal agreement; though, by the way, thereare reports afloat, that the editors of the _Courier_ and _MorningChronicle_ hold amicable consultations as to the conduct of theirpublic warfare: I will not take upon me to say that this isincredible; but at any rate it is not necessary for the establishmentof the probability I contend for. Neither again would I imply that_all_ newspaper editors are utterers of forged stories, "knowing themto be forged;" most likely the great majority of them publish whatthey find in other papers with the same simplicity that their readersperuse it; and therefore, it must be observed, are not at all moreproper than their readers to be cited as authorities. 

Still it will be said, that unless we suppose a regularly preconcertedplan, we must at least expect to find great discrepancies in theaccounts published. Though they might adopt the general outline offacts from one another, they would have to fill up the detail forthemselves; and in this, therefore, we should meet with infinite andirreconcilable variety. 

Now this is precisely the point I am tending to; for the fact exactlyaccords with the above supposition; the discordance and mutualcontradictions of these witnesses being such as would alone throw aconsiderable shade of doubt over their testimony. It is not in minutecircumstances alone that the discrepancy appears, such as might beexpected to appear in a narrative substantially true; but in verygreat and leading transactions, and such as are very intimatelyconnected with the supposed hero. For instance, it is by no meansagreed whether Buonaparte led in person the celebrated charge over thebridge of Lodi, (for _celebrated_ it certainly is, as well as thesiege of Troy, whether either event ever really took place or no, ) orwas safe in the rear, while Augereau performed the exploit. The samedoubt hangs over the charge of the French cavalry at Waterloo. Thepeasant Lacoste, who professed to have been Buonaparte's guide on theday of battle, and who earned a fortune by detailing over and overagain to visitors all the particulars of what the great man said anddid up to the moment of flight, —this same Lacoste has been suspectedby others, besides me, of having never even been near the great man, and having fabricated the whole story for the sake of making a gain ofthe credulity of travellers. In the accounts that are the extant ofthe battle itself, published by persons professing to have beenpresent, the reader will find that there is a discrepancy of _threeor four hours_ as to the time when the battle began!—a battle, be itremembered, not fought with javelins and arrows, like those of theancients, in which one part of a large army might be engaged, whilst adistant portion of the same army knew nothing of it; but a battlecommencing (if indeed it were ever fought at all) with the _firing ofcannon_, which, would have announced pretty loudly what was going on. 

It is no less uncertain whether or no this strange personage poisonedin Egypt an hospital—full of his own soldiers, and butchered in coldblood a garrison that had surrendered. But not to multiply instances;the battle of Borodino, which is represented as one of the greatestever fought, was unequivocally claimed as a victory by both parties;nor is the question decided at this day. We have official accounts onboth sides, circumstantially detailed, in the names of supposedrespectable persons, professing to have been present on the spot; yettotally irreconcilable. _Both_ these accounts _may_ be false; butsince _one_ of them _must_ be false, that one (it is no matter _which_we suppose) proves incontrovertibly this important maxim: that _it ispossible for a narrative—however circumstantial—however steadilymaintained—however public, and however important, the events itrelates—however grave the authority on which it is published—to benevertheless an entire fabrication!_

Many of the events which have been recorded were probably believedmuch the more readily and firmly, from the apparent caution andhesitation with which they were at first published—the vehementcontradiction in our papers of many pretended French accounts—and theabuse lavished upon them for falsehood, exaggeration, and gasconade. But is it not possible—is it not, indeed, perfectly natural—that thepublishers even of known falsehood should assume this cautiousdemeanour, and this abhorrence of exaggeration, in order the moreeasily to gain credit? Is it not also very possible, that those whoactually believed what they published, may have suspected mere_exaggeration_ in stories which were entire _fictions_? Many men havethat sort of simplicity, that they think themselves quite secureagainst being deceived, provided they believe only _part_ of the storythey hear; when perhaps the whole is equally false. So that perhapsthese simple-hearted editors, who were so vehement against lyingbulletins, and so wary in announcing their great news, were in thecondition of a clown, who thinks he has bought a great bargain of aJew because he has beat down the price perhaps from a guinea to acrown, for some article that is not really worth a groat. 

With respect to the _character_ of Buonaparte, the dissonance is, ifpossible, still greater. According to some, he was a wise, humane, magnanimous hero; others paint him as a monster of cruelty, meanness, and perfidy: some, even of those who are most inveterate against him, speak very highly of his political and military ability: others placehim on the very verge of insanity. But allowing that all this may bethe colouring of party-prejudice, (which surely is allowing a greatdeal, ) there is one point to which such a solution will hardly apply:if there be anything that can be clearly ascertained in history, onewould think it must be the _personal courage of a military man_; yethere we are as much at a loss as ever; at the very same times, and onthe same occasions, he is described by different writers as a man ofundaunted intrepidity, and as an absolute poltroon. 

What, then, are we to believe? If we are disposed to credit all thatis told us, we must believe in the existence not only of one, but oftwo or three Buonapartes; if we admit nothing but what is wellauthenticated, we shall be compelled to doubt of the existence ofany. [9]

It appears, then, that those on whose testimony the existence andactions of Buonaparte are generally believed, fail in ALL the mostessential points on which the credibility of witnesses depends: first, we have no assurance that they have access to correct information;secondly, they have an apparent interest in propagating falsehood;and, thirdly, they palpably contradict each other in the mostimportant points. 

 * * * * *

Another circumstance which throws additional suspicion on these talesis, that the whig-party, as they are called—the warm advocates forliberty, and opposers of the encroachments of monarchical power—havefor some time past strenuously espoused the cause and vindicated thecharacter of Buonaparte, who is represented by all as having been, ifnot a tyrant, at least an absolute despot. One of the most forward inthis cause is a gentleman, who once stood foremost in holding up thisvery man to public execration—who first published, and longmaintained against popular incredulity, the accounts of his atrocitiesin Egypt. Now that such a course should be adopted for party-purposes;by those who are aware that the whole story is a fiction, and the heroof it imaginary, seems not very incredible; but if they believed inthe real existence of this despot, I cannot conceive how they could soforsake their principles as to advocate his cause, and eulogize hischaracter. 

Besides the many strange and improbable circumstances in the historyof Buonaparte that have been already noticed, there are many others, two of which it may be worth while to advert to. 

One of the most incredible is the received account of the personsknown as the "Détenus. " It is well known that a great number ofEnglish gentlemen passed many years, in the early part of the presentcentury, abroad;—by their own account, in France. Their statementwas, that while travelling in that country for their amusement, aspeaceable tourists, they were, on the sudden breaking out of a war, seized by this terrible Buonaparte, and kept prisoners for abouttwelve years, contrary to all the usages of civilized nations—to allprinciples of justice, of humanity, of enlightened policy; many ofthem thus wasting in captivity the most important portion of theirlives, and having all their prospects blighted. 

Now whether these persons were in reality exiles by choice, for thesake of keeping out of the way of creditors, or of enjoying thesociety of those they preferred to their own domestic circle, I do notventure to conjecture. But let the reader consider whether _any_conjecture can be _more_ improbable than the statement actually made. 

It is, indeed, credible that ambition may prompt an unscrupulous manto make the most enormous sacrifices of human life, and to perpetratethe most atrocious crimes, for the advancement of his views ofconquest. But that this _great_ man—as he is usually reckoned even byadversaries—this hero according to some—this illustrious warrior, and mighty sovereign—should have stooped to be guilty of an act ofmean and petty malice worthy of a spiteful old woman, —a piece ofpaltry cruelty which could not at all conduce to his success in thewar, or produce any effect except to degrade his country, andexasperate ours;—this, surely, is quite incredible. "Pizarro, " saysElvira in Kotzebue's play, "if not always justly, at least act alwaysgreatly. "

But a still more wonderful circumstance connected with thistransaction remains behind. A large portion of the English nation, andamong these the whole of the Whig party, are said to have expressedthe most vehement indignation, mingled with compassion, at thebanishment from Europe, and confinement in St. Helena, of this greatman. No considerations of regard for the peace and security of our owncountry, no dread of the power of so able and indefatigable a warrior, and so inveterate an enemy, should have induced us, they thought, tosubject this formidable personage to a confinement, which was farless severe than that to which he was said to have subjected suchnumbers of our countrymen, the harmless _non-belligerent_ travellers, whom (according to the story) he kidnapped in France, with no objectbut to gratify the basest and most unmanly spite. 

But that there is no truth in that story, and that it was not believedby those who manifested so much sympathy and indignation on this greatman's account, is sufficiently proved by that very sympathy andindignation. 

There are again other striking improbabilities connected with thePolish nation in the history before us. Buonaparte is represented ashaving always expressed the strongest sympathy with that ill-usedpeople; and they, as being devotedly attached to him, and fightingwith the utmost fidelity and bravery in his armies, in which some ofthem attained high commands. Now he had it manifestly in his power atone period (according to the received accounts), with a stroke of hispen, to re-establish Poland as an independent state. For, in his lastRussian war, he had complete occupation of the country (of which thepopulation was perfectly friendly); the Russian portion of it was hisby right of conquest; and Austria and Prussia, then his allies, andalmost his subjects, would gladly have resigned their portions inexchange for some of the provinces they had ceded to France, andwhich were, to him, of little value, but, to them, important. And, indeed, Prussia was (as we are told) so thoroughly humbled andweakened that he might easily have enforced the cession ofPrussian-Poland, even without any compensation. And there-establishment of the Polish kingdom would have been as evidentlypolitic as it was reasonable. The independence of a faithful anddevoted ally, at enmity with the surrounding nations—the very nationsthat were the most likely to combine (as they often had done) againsthim, —this would have given him, at no cost, a kind of strong garrisonto maintain his power, and keep his enemies in check. 

Yet this most obvious step, the history tells us, he did not take; butmade flattering speeches to the Poles, used their services, and didnothing for them!

This is, alone, sufficiently improbable. But we are required moreoverto believe that the Poles, —instead of _execrating_ this man, who haddone them the unpardonable wrong of wantonly disappointing theexpectations he had, for his own purposes, excited, thus addingtreachery to ingratitude—instead of this, continued to the last asmuch devoted to him as ever, and even now idolize his memory! We areto believe, in short, that this Buonaparte, not only in his ownconduct and adventures violated all the established rules ofprobability, but also caused all other persons, as many as came incontact with him, to act as no mortals ever did act before: may we notadd, as no mortals ever did act at all?

Many other improbabilities might be added to the list, and will befound in the complete edition of that history, from which someextracts will be presently given, and which has been published (underthe title of "Historic Certainties") by Aristarchus Newlight, with alearned commentary (not, indeed, adopting the views contained in thesepages, but) quite equal in ingenuity to a late work on the "HebrewMonarchy. "

After all, it may be expected that many who perceive the force ofthese objections, will yet be loth to think it possible that they andthe public at large can have been so long and so greatly imposed upon. And thus it is that the magnitude and boldness of a fraud becomes itsbest support. The millions who for so many ages have believed inMahomet or Brahma, lean as it were on each other for support; and nothaving vigour of mind enough boldly to throw off vulgar prejudices, and dare be wiser than the multitude, persuade themselves that what somany have acknowledged must be true. But I call on those who boasttheir philosophical freedom of thought, and would fain tread in thesteps of Hume and other inquirers of the like exalted and speculativegenius, to follow up fairly and fully their own principles, and, throwing off the shackles of authority, to examine carefully theevidence of whatever is proposed to them, before they admit its truth. 

That even in this enlightened age, as it is called, a whole nation maybe egregiously imposed upon, even in matters which intimately concernthem, may be proved (if it has not been already proved) by thefollowing instance: it was stated in the newspapers, that, a monthafter the battle of Trafalgar, an English officer, who had been aprisoner of war, and was exchanged, returned to this country fromFrance, and beginning to condole with his countrymen on the terrible_defeat_ they had sustained, was infinitely astonished to learn thatthe battle of Trafalgar was a splendid victory. He had been assured, he said, that in that battle the English had been totally defeated;and the French were fully and universally persuaded that such was thefact. Now if this report of the belief of the French nation was _not_true, the British Public were completely imposed upon; if it _were_true, then both nations were, at the same time, rejoicing in the eventof the same battle, as a signal victory to themselves; andconsequently one or other, at least, of these nations must have beenthe dupes of their government: for if the battle was never fought atall, or was not decisive on either side, in that case _both_ partieswere deceived. This instance, I conceive, is absolutely demonstrativeof the point in question. 

"But what shall we say to the testimony of those many respectablepersons who went to Plymouth on purpose, and saw Buonaparte with theirown eyes? must they not trust their senses?" I would not disparageeither the eyesight or the veracity of these gentlemen. I am ready toallow that they went to Plymouth for the purpose of seeing Buonaparte;nay, more, that they actually rowed out into the harbour in a boat, and came alongside of a man-of-war, on whose deck they saw a man in acocked hat, who, _they were told_, was Buonaparte. This is the utmostpoint to which their testimony goes; how they ascertained that thisman in the cocked hat had gone through all the marvellous and romanticadventures with which we have so long been amused, we are not told. Did they perceive in his physiognomy, his true name, and authentichistory? Truly this evidence is such as country people give one for astory of apparitions; if you discover any signs of incredulity, theytriumphantly show the very house which the ghost haunted, theidentical dark corner where it used to vanish, and perhaps even thetombstone of the person whose death it foretold. Jack Cade's nobilitywas supported by the same irresistible kind of evidence: havingasserted that the eldest son of Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, wasstolen by a beggar-woman, "became a bricklayer when he came to age, "and was the father of the supposed Jack Cade; one of his companionsconfirms the story, by saying, "Sir, he made a chimney in my father'shouse, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it; therefore, deny it not. "

Much of the same kind is the testimony of our brave countrymen, whoare ready to produce the scars they received in fighting against thisterrible Buonaparte. That they fought and were wounded, they maysafely testify; and probably they no less firmly _believe_ what theywere _told_ respecting the cause in which they fought: it would havebeen a high breach of discipline to doubt it; and they, I conceive, are men better skilled in handling a musket, than in sifting evidence, and detecting imposture. But I defy any one of them to come forwardand declare, _on his own knowledge_, what was the cause in which hefought, —under whose commands the opposed generals acted, —and whetherthe person who issued those commands did really perform the mightyachievements we are told of. 

Let those, then, who pretend to philosophical freedom of inquiry, —whoscorn to rest their opinions on popular belief, and to shelterthemselves under the example of the unthinking multitude, considercarefully, each one for himself, what is the evidence proposed tohimself in particular, for the existence of such a person as NapoleonBuonaparte:—I do not mean, whether there ever was a person bearingthat _name_, for that is a question of no consequence; but whether anysuch person ever performed all the wonderful things attributed tohim;—let him then weigh well the objections to that evidence, (ofwhich I have given but a hasty and imperfect sketch, ) and if he thenfinds it amount to anything _more_ than a probability, I have only tocongratulate him on his easy faith. 

 * * * * *

But the same testimony which would have great weight in establishing athing intrinsically probable, will lose part of this weight inproportion as the matter attested is improbable; and if adduced insupport of anything that is at variance with uniform experience, [10]will be rejected at once by all sound reasoners. Let us then considerwhat sort of a story it is that is proposed to our acceptance. Howgrossly contradictory are the reports of the different authorities, Ihave already remarked: but consider, by itself, the story told by anyone of them; it carries an air of fiction and romance on the very faceof it. All the events are great, and splendid, and marvellous;[11] greatarmies, —great victories, —great frosts, —great reverses, —"hair-breadth'scapes, "—empires subverted in a few days; everything happened indefiance of political calculations, and in opposition to the_experience_ of past times; everything upon that grand scale, so commonin Epic Poetry, so rare in real life; and thus calculated to strike theimagination of the vulgar, and to remind the sober-thinking few of theArabian Nights. Every event, too, has that _roundness_ and completenesswhich is so characteristic of fiction; nothing is done by halves; wehave _complete_ victories, —_total_ overthrows, _entire_ subversion ofempires, —_perfect_ re-establishments of them, —crowded upon us in rapidsuccession. To enumerate the improbabilities of each of the severalparts of this history, would fill volumes; but they are so fresh inevery one's memory, that there is no need of such a detail: let anyjudicious man, not ignorant of history and of human nature, revolve themin his mind, and consider how far they are conformable toExperience, [12] our best and only sure guide. In vain will he seek inhistory for something similar to this wonderful Buonaparte; "nought buthimself can be his parallel. "

Will the conquests of Alexander be compared with his? _They_ wereeffected over a rabble of effeminate, undisciplined barbarians; elsehis progress would hardly have been so rapid: witness his fatherPhilip, who was much longer occupied in subduing the comparativelyinsignificant territory of the warlike and civilized Greeks, notwithstanding their being divided into numerous petty States, whosemutual jealousy enabled him to contend with them separately. But theGreeks had never made such progress in arts and arms as the great andpowerful States of Europe, which Buonaparte is represented as sospeedily overpowering. His empire has been compared to the Roman: markthe contrast; he gains in a few years, that dominion, or at leastcontrol, over Germany, wealthy, civilized, and powerful, which theRomans in the plenitude of their power, could not obtain, during astruggle of as many centuries, against the ignorant half-savages whothen possessed it; of whom Tacitus remarks, that, up to his own timethey had been "triumphed over rather than conquered. "

Another peculiar circumstance in the history of this extraordinarypersonage is, that when it Is found convenient to represent him asdefeated, though he is by no means defeated by halves, but involved inmuch more sudden and total ruin than the personages of real historyusually meet with; yet, if it is thought fit he should be restored, itis done as quickly and completely as if Merlin's rod had beenemployed. He enters Russia with a prodigious army, which is totallyruined by an unprecedented hard winter; (everything relating to thisman is _prodigious_ and _unprecedented_;) yet in a few months we findhim intrusted with another great army in Germany, which is alsototally ruined at Leipsic; making, inclusive of the Egyptian, thethird great army thus totally lost: yet the French are so good-naturedas to furnish him with another sufficient to make a formidable standin France; he is, however, _conquered, and presented with thesovereignty of Elba_; (surely, by the bye, some more _probable_ waymight have been found of disposing of him, till again wanted, than toplace him thus on the very verge of his ancient dominions;) thence hereturns to France, where he is received with open arms, and enabled tolose a fifth great army at Waterloo; yet so eager were these people tobe a sixth time led to destruction, that it was found necessary toconfine _him_ in an island some thousand miles off, and to quarterforeign troops upon _them_, lest they should make an insurrection inhis favour?[13] Does any one believe all this, and yet refuse tobelieve a miracle? Or rather, what is this but a miracle? Is it not aviolation of the laws of nature? for surely there are moral laws ofnature as well as physical; which though more liable to exceptions inthis or that particular case, are no less _true as general rules_ thanthe laws of matter, and therefore cannot be violated and contradicted_beyond a certain point_, without a miracle. [14]

Nay, there is this additional circumstance which renders thecontradiction of Experience more glaring in this case than in that ofthe miraculous histories which ingenious sceptics have held up tocontempt: all the advocates of miracles admit that they are rareexceptions to the general course of nature; but contend that they mustneeds be so, on account of the rarity of those extraordinary_occasions_ which are the _reason_ of their being performed: aMiracle, they say, does not happen every day, because a Revelation isnot given every day. It would be foreign to the present purpose toseek for arguments against this answer; I leave it to those who areengaged in the controversy, to find a reply to it; but my presentobject is, to point out that this solution does not at all apply inthe present case. Where is the peculiarity of the _occasion_? Whatsufficient _reason_ is there for a series of events occurring in theeighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which never took place before?Was Europe at that period peculiarly weak, and in a state ofbarbarism, that one man could achieve such conquests, and acquire sucha vast empire? On the contrary, she was flourishing in the height ofstrength and civilization. Can the persevering attachment and blinddevotedness of the French to this man, be accounted for by his beingthe descendant of a long line of kings, whose race was hallowed byhereditary veneration? No; we are told he was a low-born usurper, andnot even a Frenchman! Is it that he was a good and kind sovereign? Heis represented not only as an imperious and merciless despot, but asmost wantonly careless of the lives of his soldiers. Could the Frencharmy and people have failed to hear from the wretched survivors of hissupposed Russian expedition, how they had left the corpses of above100, 000 of their comrades bleaching on the snow-drifts of that dismalcountry, whither his mad ambition had conducted him, and where hisselfish cowardice had deserted them? Wherever we turn to seek forcircumstances that may help to account for the events of thisincredible story, we only meet with such as aggravate itsimprobability. [15] Had it been told of some distant country, at aremote period, we could not have told what peculiar circumstancesthere might have been to render probable what seems to us moststrange; and yet in _that_ case every philosophical sceptic, everyfree-thinking speculator, would instantly have rejected such ahistory, as utterly unworthy of credit. What, for instance, would thegreat Hume, or any of the philosophers of his school, have said, ifthey had found in the antique records of any nation, such a passageas this? "There was a certain man of Corsica, whose name was Napoleon, and he was one of the chief captains of the host of the French; and hegathered together an army, and went and fought against Egypt: but whenthe king of Britain heard thereof, he sent ships of war and valiantmen to fight against the French in Egypt. So they warred against them, and prevailed, and strengthened the hands of the rulers of the landagainst the French, and drave away Napoleon from before the city ofAcre. Then Napoleon left the captains and the army that were in Egypt, and fled, and returned back to France. So the French people, tookNapoleon, and made him ruler over them, and he became exceeding great, insomuch that there was none like him of all that had ruled overFrance before. "

What, I say, would Hume have thought of this, especially if he hadbeen told that it was at this day generally credited? Would he nothave confessed that he had been mistaken in supposing there was apeculiarly blind credulity and prejudice in favour of everything thatis accounted _sacred_;[16] for that, since even professed scepticsswallow implicitly such a story as this, it appears there must be astill blinder prejudice in favour of everything that is _not_accounted sacred?

Suppose, again, we found in this history such passages as thefollowing: "And it came to pass after these things that Napoleonstrengthened himself, and gathered together another host instead ofthat which he had lost, and went and warred against the Prussians, andthe Russians, and the Austrians, and all the rulers of the northcountry, which were confederate against him. And the ruler of Sweden, also, which was a Frenchman, warred against Napoleon. So they wentforth, and fought against the French in the plain of Leipsic. And theFrench were discomfited before their enemies, and fled, and came tothe rivers which are behind Leipsic, and essayed to pass over, thatthey might escape out of the hand of their enemies; but they couldnot, for Napoleon had broken down the bridges: so the people of thenorth countries came upon them, and smote them with a very grievousslaughter. " ... 

 * * * * *

"Then the ruler of Austria and all the rulers of the north countriessent messengers unto Napoleon to speak peaceably unto him, saying, Whyshould there be war between us any more? Now Napoleon had put awayhis wife, and taken the daughter of the ruler of Austria to wife. Soall the counsellors of Napoleon came and stood before him, and said, Behold now these kings are merciful kings; do even as they say untothee; knowest thou not yet that France is destroyed? But he spakeroughly unto his counsellors, and drave them, out from his presence, neither would he hearken unto their voice. And when all the kings sawthat, they warred against France, and smote it with the edge of thesword, and came near to Paris, which is the royal city, to take it: sothe men of Paris went out, and delivered up the city to them. Thenthose kings spake kindly unto the men of Paris, saying, Be of goodcheer, there shall no harm happen unto you. Then were the men of Parisglad, and said, Napoleon is a tyrant; he shall no more rule over us. Also all the princes, the judges, the counsellors, and the captainswhom Napoleon had raised up even from the lowest of the people, sentunto Lewis the brother of King Lewis, whom they had slain, and madehim king over France. " ... 

... ... ... ... ... ... ... 

"And when Napoleon saw that the kingdom was departed from him, he saidunto the rulers which came against him, Let me, I pray you, give thekingdom unto my son: but they would not hearken unto him. Then hespake yet again, saying, Let me, I pray you, go and live in the islandof Elba, which is over against Italy, nigh unto the coast of France;and ye shall give me an allowance for me and my household, and theland of Elba also for a possession. So they made him ruler ofElba. "... 

... ... ... ... ... ... ... 

"In those days the Pope returned unto his own land. Now the French, and divers other nations of Europe, are servants of the Pope, and holdhim in reverence; but he is an abomination unto the Britons, and tothe Prussians, and to the Russians, and to the Swedes. Howbeit theFrench had taken away all his lands, and robbed him of all that hehad, and carried him away captive into France. But when the Britons, and the Prussians, and the Russians, and the Swedes, and the rest ofthe nations that were confederate against France, came thither, theycaused the French to set the Pope at liberty, and to restore all hisgoods that they had taken; likewise they gave him back all hispossessions; and he went home in peace, and ruled over his own city asin times past. "... 

... ... ... ... ... ... ... 

"And it came to pass when Napoleon had not yet been a full year atElba, that he said unto his men of war that clave unto him, Go to, letus go back to France, and fight against King Lewis, and thrust him outfrom being king. So he departed, he and six hundred men with him thatdrew the sword, and warred against King Lewis. Then all the men ofBelial gathered themselves together, and said, God save Napoleon. Andwhen Lewis saw that, he fled, and gat him into the land of Batavia:and Napoleon ruled over France, " &c. &c. &c. [17]

Now if a free-thinking philosopher—one of those who advocate thecause of unbiassed reason, and despise pretended revelations—were tomeet with such a tissue of absurdities as this in an old Jewishrecord, would he not reject it at once as too palpable animposture[18] to deserve even any inquiry into its evidence? Is thatcredible then of the civilized Europeans now, which could not, ifreported of the semi-barbarous Jews 3000 years ago, be established byany testimony? Will it be answered, that "there is nothing_supernatural_ in all this?" Why is it, then, that you object to whatis _supernatural_—that you reject every account of _miracles_—if notbecause they are _improbable_? Surely then a story equally or stillmore improbable, is not to be implicitly received, merely on theground that it is _not_ miraculous: though in fact, as I have already(in note, p. 39, ) shown from Hume's authority, it _is_ reallymiraculous. The opposition to Experience has been proved to be ascomplete in this case, as in what are commonly called miracles; andthe reasons assigned for that contrariety by the defenders of _them_, cannot be pleaded in the present instance. If then philosophers, whoreject every wonderful story that is maintained by priests, are yetfound ready to believe _everything else_, however improbable, theywill surely lay themselves open to the accusation brought against themof being unduly prejudiced against whatever relates to religion. 

 * * * * *

There is one more circumstance which I cannot forbear mentioning, because it so much adds to the air of fiction which pervades everypart of this marvellous tale; and that is, the _nationality_ ofit. [19]

Buonaparte prevailed over all the hostile States in turn, _exceptEngland_; in the zenith of his power, his fleets were swept from thesea, _by England_; his troops always defeat an equal, and frequentlyeven a superior number of those of any other nation, _except theEnglish_; and with them it is just the reverse; twice, and twice only, he is personally engaged against an _English commander_, and bothtimes he is totally defeated; at Acre, and at Waterloo; and to crownall, _England_ finally crushes this tremendous power, which had solong kept the continent in subjection or in alarm; and to the_English_ he surrenders himself prisoner! Thoroughly national, to besure! It _may_ be all very true; but I would only ask, _if_ a story_had_ been fabricated for the express purpose of amusing the Englishnation, could it have been contrived more ingeniously? It would doadmirably for an epic poem; and indeed bears a considerableresemblance to the Iliad and the Æneid; in which Achilles and theGreeks, Æneas and the Trojans, (the ancestors of the Romans) are sostudiously held up to admiration. Buonaparte's exploits seem magnifiedin order to enhance the glory of his conquerors; just as Hector isallowed to triumph during the absence of Achilles, merely to giveadditional splendour to his overthrow by the arm of that invinciblehero. Would not this circumstance alone render a history rather_suspicious_ in the eyes of an acute critic, even if it were notfilled with such gross improbabilities; and induce him to suspend hisjudgment, till very satisfactory evidence (far stronger than can befound in this case) should be produced?

Is it then too much to demand of the wary academic[20] a suspension ofjudgment as to the "life and adventures of Napoleon Buonaparte?" I donot pretend to _decide_ positively that there is not, nor ever was, any such person; but merely to propose it as a _doubtful_ point, andone the more deserving of careful investigation, from the verycircumstance of its having hitherto been admitted without inquiry. Farless would I undertake to decide what is or has been the real state ofaffairs. He who points out the improbability of the current story, isnot bound to suggest an hypothesis of his own;[21] though it maysafely be affirmed, that it would be hard to invent any one moreimprobable than the received one. One may surely be allowed tohesitate in admitting the stories which the ancient poets tell, ofearthquakes and volcanic eruptions being caused by imprisoned giants, without being called upon satisfactorily to account for thosephenomena. 

Amidst the defect of valid evidence under which, as I have alreadyshown, we labour in the present instance, it is hardly possible tooffer more than here and there a probable conjecture; or to pronouncehow much may be true, and how much fictitious, in the accountspresented to us. For, it is to be observed that this case is much_more_ open to sceptical doubts even than some miraculous histories;since some of _them_ are of such a nature that you cannot consistentlyadmit a part and reject the rest; but are bound, if you are satisfiedas to the reality of any one miracle, to embrace the whole system; sothat it is necessary for the sceptic to impeach the evidence of _all_of them, separately, and collectively: whereas, _here_, each singlepoint requires to be _established_ separately, since no one of themauthenticates the rest. Supposing there be a state-prisoner at St. Helena, (which, by the way, it is acknowledged many of the Frenchdisbelieve, ) how do we know who he is, or why he is confined there?There have been state-prisoners before now, who were never guilty ofsubjugating half Europe, and whose offences have been very imperfectlyascertained. Admitting that there have been bloody wars going on forseveral years past, which is highly probable, it does not follow thatthe events of those wars were such as we have been told;—thatBuonaparte was the author and conductor of them;—or that such aperson ever existed. What disturbances may have taken place in thegovernment of the French people, we, and even nineteen-twentieths of_them_, have no means of learning but from imperfect hearsay evidence;and how much credit they themselves attach to that evidence is verydoubtful. This at least is certain: that a M. Berryer, a Frenchadvocate, has published memoirs, professing to record many of theevents of the recent history of France, in which, among other things, he states his conviction that Buonaparte's escape from Elba wasDESIGNED AND CONTRIVED BY THE ENGLISH GOVERNMENT. [22] And we areassured by many travellers that this was, and is, commonly reported inFrance. 

Now that the French should believe the whole story about Buonaparteaccording to this version of it, does seem utterly incredible. Let anyone suppose them seriously believing that we maintained for many yearsa desperate struggle against this formidable emperor of theirs, in thecourse of which we expended such an enormous amount of blood andtreasure as is reported;—that we finally, after encountering enormousrisks, succeeded in subduing him, and secured him in a place of safeexile;—and that, in less than a year after, we turned him out again, like a bag-fox, —or rather, a bag-lion, —for the sake of amusingourselves by again staking all that was dear to us on the event of adoubtful and bloody battle, in which defeat must be ruinous, andvictory, if obtained at all, must cost us many thousands of our bestsoldiers. Let any one force himself for a moment to conceive theFrench seriously believing such a mass of absurdity; and the inferencemust be that such a people must be prepared to believe anything. Theymight fancy their own country to abound not only with Napoleons, butwith dragons and centaurs, and "men whose heads do grow beneath theirshoulders, " or anything else that any lunatic ever dreamt of. If wecould suppose the French capable of such monstrous credulity as theabove supposition would imply, it is plain their testimony must bealtogether worthless. 

But, on the other hand, suppose them to be aware that the BritishGovernment have been all along imposing on us, and it is quite naturalthat they should deride our credulity, and try whether there isanything too extravagant for us to swallow. And indeed, if Buonapartewas in fact altogether a phantom conjured up by the British Ministers, then it is _true_ that his escape from Elba really _was_, as well as_the rest of his exploits_, a contrivance of theirs. 

 * * * * *

But whatever may be believed by the French relative to the recentoccurrences, in their own country, and whatever may be the realcharacter of these occurrences, of this at least we are well assured, that there have been numerous bloody wars with France under thedominion of the _Bourbons_: and we are now told that France isgoverned by a Bourbon king, of the name of Lewis, who professes to bein the twenty-third year of his reign. Let every one conjecture forhimself. I am far from pretending to decide who may have been thegovernor or governors of the French nation, and the leaders of theirarmies, for several years past. Certain it is, that when men areindulging their inclination for the marvellous, they always show astrong propensity to accumulate upon _one_ individual (real orimaginary) the exploits of many; besides multiplying and exaggeratingthese exploits a thousandfold. Thus, the expounders of the ancientmythology tell us there were several persons of the name of Hercules, (either originally bearing that appellation, or having it applied tothem as an honour, ) whose collective feats, after being dressed up ina sufficiently marvellous garb, were attributed to a single hero. Isit not just possible, that during the rage for words of Greekderivation, the title of "Napoleon, " (Ναπολέων, ) which signifies "Lionof the forest, " may have been conferred by the popular voice on morethan one favorite general, distinguished for irresistible valour? Isit not also possible that "BUONA PARTE" may have been originally asort of cant term applied to the "good (i. E. , the bravest or mostpatriotic) part" of the French army, collectively; and have beenafterwards mistaken for the proper name of an individual?[23] I do notprofess to support this conjecture; but it is certain that suchmistakes may and do occur. Some critics have supposed that theAthenians imagined ANASTASIS ("Resurrection") to be a new goddess, inwhose cause Paul was preaching. Would it have been thought anythingincredible if we had been told that the ancient Persians, who had noidea of any but a monarchical government, had supposed Aristocratia tobe a queen of Sparta? But we need not confine ourselves tohypothetical cases; it is positively stated that the Hindoos at thisday believe "the honourable East India Company" to be a venerable oldlady of high dignity, residing in this country. The Germans, again, ofthe present day derive their name from a similar mistake: the firsttribe of them who invaded Gaul[24] assumed the honourable title of"_Ger-man_" which signifies "warriors, " (the words "war" and "guerre, "as well as "man, " which remains in our language unaltered, areevidently derived from the Teutonic, ) and the Gauls applied this as a_name_ to the whole _race_. 

However, I merely throw out these conjectures without by any meanscontending that more plausible ones might not be suggested. Butwhatever supposition we adopt, or whether we adopt any, the objectionsto the commonly received accounts will remain in their full force, andimperiously demand the attention of the candid sceptic. 

I call upon those, therefore, who profess themselves advocates of freeinquiry—who disdain to be carried along with the stream of popularopinion, and who will listen to no testimony that runs counter toexperience, —to follow up their own principles fairly andconsistently. Let the same mode of argument be adopted in all casesalike; and then it can no longer be attributed to hostile prejudice, but to enlarged and philosophical views. If they have already rejectedsome histories, on the ground of their being strange andmarvellous, —of their relating facts, unprecedented, and at variancewith the established course of nature, —let them not give credit toanother history which lies open to the very same objections, —theextraordinary and romantic tale we have been just considering. If theyhave discredited the testimony of witnesses, who are _said_ at leastto have been disinterested, and to have braved persecutions and deathin support of their assertions, —can these philosophers consistentlylisten to and believe the testimony of those who avowedly _get money_by the tales they publish, and who do not even pretend that they incurany serious risk in case of being detected in a falsehood? If, inother cases, they have refused to listen to an account which haspassed through many intermediate hands before it reaches them, andwhich is defended by those who have an interest in maintaining it; letthem consider through how many, and what very suspicious hands, _this_story has arrived to them, without the possibility, as I have shown, of tracing it back to any decidedly authentic source, after all;—toany better authority, according to their own showing, than that of an_unnamed_ and unknown foreign correspondent;—and likewise how strongan interest, in every way, those who have hitherto imposed on them, have in keeping up the imposture. Let them, in short, show themselvesas ready to detect the cheats, and despise the fables of politiciansas of priests. 

But if they are still wedded to the popular belief in this point, letthem be consistent enough to admit the same evidence in _other_ caseswhich they yield to in _this_. If, after all that has been said, theycannot bring themselves to doubt of the existence of NapoleonBuonaparte, they must at least acknowledge that they do not apply tothat question the same plan of reasoning which they have made use ofin others; and they are consequently bound in reason and in honesty torenounce it altogether. 

FOOTNOTES:

[3] "A report is spread, (says Voltaire in one of his works, ) thatthere is, in some country or other, a giant as big as a mountain; andmen presently fall to hot disputing concerning the precise length ofhis nose, the breadth of his thumb, and other particulars, andanathematize each other for heterodoxy of belief concerning them. Inthe midst of all, if some bold sceptic ventures to hint a doubt as tothe existence of this giant, all are ready to join against him, andtear him to pieces. " This looks almost like a prophetic allegoryrelating to the gigantic Napoleon. 

[4] Οὕτως ἀταλαίπωρος τοῖς πολλοῖς ἡ ζήτησις τῆς ἀληθείας, καὶ ἐπὶ τὰἕτοιμα μᾶλλον τρέπονται. Thucyd. B. I. C. 20. 

[5] "With what greediness are the miraculous accounts of travellersreceived, their descriptions of sea and land monsters, their relationsof wonderful adventures, strange men, and uncouth manners!"—_Hume'sEssay on Miracles_, p. 179, 12mo; p. 185, 8vo, 1767; p. 117, 8vo, 1817. 

N. B. —In order to give every possible facility of reference, threeeditions of Hume's Essays have been generally employed: a 12mo, London, 1756, and two 8vo editions. 

[6] "Suppose a fact to be transmitted through twenty persons; thefirst communicating it to the second, the second to the third, &c. , and let the probability of each testimony be expressed by nine-tenths, (that is, suppose that of ten reports made by each witness, nine onlyare true, ) then, at every time the story passes from one witness toanother, the evidence is reduced to nine-tenths of what it was before. Thus, after it has passed through the whole twenty, the evidence willbe found to be less than one-eighth. "—LA PLACE, _Essai Philosophiquesur les Probabilités_. 

That is, the chances for the fact thus attested being true, will be, according to this distinguished calculator, less than one in eight. Very few of the common newspaper-stories, however, relating to foreigncountries, could be traced, if the matter were carefully investigated, up to an actual eye-witness, even through twenty intermediatewitnesses; and many of the steps of our ladder, would, I fear, provebut rotten; few of the reporters would deserve to have _one in ten_fixed as the proportion of their false accounts. 

[7] "I did not mention the difficulty of detecting a falsehood in anyprivate or even public history, at the time and place where it is saidto happen; much more where the scene is removed to ever so small adistance.... But the matter never comes to any issue, if trusted to thecommon method of altercation and debate and flying rumours. "—_Hume'sEssay on Miracles_, p. 195, 12mo; pp. 200, 201, 8vo, 1767; p. 127, 8vo, 1817. 

[8] See the third Postscript appended to this edition. 

[9] "We entertain a suspicion concerning any matter of fact, when thewitnesses _contradict_ each other; when they are of a _suspicious_character; when they have an _interest_ in what they affirm. "—_Hume'sEssay on Miracles_, p. 172, 12mo; p. 176, 8vo, 1767; p. 113, 8vo. 1817. 

[10] "That testimony itself derives all its force from experience, seems very certain.... The first author, we believe, who stated fairlythe connexion between the evidence of testimony and the evidence ofexperience, was HUME, in his Essay on Miracles, a work ... Aboundingin maxims of great use in the conduct of life. "—_Edin. Review_, Sept. 1814, p. 328. 

[11] "Suppose, for instance, that the fact which the testimonyendeavours to establish partakes of the extraordinary and themarvellous; in that case, the evidence resulting from the testimonyreceives a diminution, greater or less in proportion as the fact ismore or less unusual. "—_Hume's Essay on Miracles_, p. 173, 12mo; p. 176, 8vo, 1767; p. 113, 8vo, 1817. 

[12] "The ultimate standard by which we determine all disputes thatmay arise is always derived from experience and observation. "—_Hume'sEssay on Miracles_, p. 172, 12mo; p. 175, 8vo, 1767; p. 112, 8vo, 1817. 

[13] Ἠ θαύματα πολλά. Καὶ τού τι καὶ βροτῶν φρένας ὙΠΕΡ ΤΟΝ ΑΛΗΘΗ ΛΟΓΟΝ Δεδειδαλμένοι ψεύδεσι ποικίλοις Ἐξαπατῶντι μῦθοι. PIND. Olymp. 1

[14] This doctrine, though hardly needing confirmation from authority, is supported by that of Hume; his eighth essay is, throughout, anargument for the doctrine of "Philosophical necessity, " drawn entirelyfrom the general uniformity, observable in the course of nature withrespect to the principles of _human conduct_, as well as those of thematerial universe; from which uniformity, he observes, it is that weare enabled _in both cases_, to form our judgment by means of_Experience:_ "and if, " says he, "we would explode any forgery inhistory, we cannot make use of a more convincing argument, than toprove that the actions ascribed to any person, are directly contraryto the course of nature.... 

"... The Veracity of Quintus Curtius is as suspicious when hedescribes the supernatural courage of Alexander, by which he washurried on singly to attack multitudes, as when he describes hissupernatural force and activity, by which he was able to resist them. So readily and universally do we acknowledge a _uniformity in humanmotives and actions, as well as in the operations of body_. "—_EighthEssay_, p. 131, 12mo; p. 85, 8vo, 1817. 

Accordingly, in the tenth essay, his use of the term "miracle, " afterhaving called it "a transgression of a law of nature, " plainly showsthat he meant to include _human_ nature: "no testimony, " says he, "issufficient to establish a miracle, unless the testimony be of such anature that its falsehood would be more miraculous than the fact whichit endeavours to establish. " The term "prodigy" also (which he allalong employs as synonymous with "miracle") is applied to testimony, inthe same manner, immediately after; "In the foregoing reasoning we havesupposed ... That the falsehood of that testimony would be a kind of_prodigy_. " Now had he meant to confine the meaning of "miracle, " and"prodigy, " to a violation of the laws of _matter_, the epithet"_miraculous_, " applied even thus hypothetically, to _false testimony_, would be as unmeaning as the epithets "green" or "square;" the onlypossible sense in which we can apply to it, even in imagination, theterm "miraculous, " is that of "highly improbable, "—"contrary to thoselaws of nature which respect human conduct:" and in this sense heaccordingly uses the word in the very next sentence: "When any onetells me that he saw a dead man restored to life, I immediatelyconsider with myself whether it be more _probable_ that this personshould either deceive or be deceived, or that the fact which he relatesshould really have happened. I weigh the one _miracle_ against theother. "—_Hume's Essay on Miracles_, pp. 176, 177, 12mo; p. 182, 8vo, 1767; p. 115, 8vo, 1817. 

See also a passage above quoted from the same essay, where he speaksof "the _miraculous_ accounts of travellers;" evidently using the wordin this sense. 

Perhaps it was superfluous to cite authority for applying the term"miracle" to whatever is "highly improbable;" but it is important tothe students of Hume, to be fully aware that he uses those twoexpressions as synonymous; since otherwise they would mistake themeaning of that passage which he justly calls "a general maxim worthyof your attention. "

[15] "Events may be so extraordinary that they can hardly beestablished by testimony. We would not give credit to a man who wouldaffirm that he saw a hundred dice thrown in the air, and that they allfell on the same faces. "—_Edin. Review_, Sept. 1814, p. 327. 

Let it be observed, that the instance here given is _miraculous_ in noother sense but that of being highly _improbable_. 

[16] "If the spirit of religion join itself to the love of wonder, there is an end of common sense; and human testimony in thesecircumstances loses all pretensions to authority. "—_Hume's Essay onMiracles_, p. 179, 12mo; p. 185, 8vo, 1767; p. 117, 8vo, 1817. 

[17] The supposed history from which the above extracts are given, ispublished entire in the work called _Historic Certainties. _

[18] "I desire any one to lay his hand upon his heart, and afterserious consideration declare whether he thinks that the falsehood ofsuch a book, supported by such testimony, would be more extraordinaryand miraculous than all the miracles it relates. "—_Hume's Essay onMiracles_, p. 200, 12mo; p. 206, 8vo, 1767; p. 131, 8vo, 1817. 

Let it be borne in mind that Hume (as I have above remarked)continually employs the term "miracle" and "prodigy" to signifyanything that is highly _improbable_ and _extraordinary. _

[19] "The wise lend a very academic faith to every report whichfavours the passion of the reporter, whether it magnifies his_country_, his family, or himself. "—_Hume's Essay on Miracles_, p. 144, 12mo; p. 200, 8vo, 1767; p. 126, 8vo, 1817. 

[20] "Nothing can be more contrary than such a philosophy (theacademic or sceptical) to the supine indolence of the mind, its rasharrogance, its lofty pretensions, and its superstitiouscredulity. "—_Fifth Essay_, p. 68, 12mo; p. 41, 8vo, 1817. 

[21] See _Hume's Essay on Miracles_, pp. 189, 191, 195, 12mo; pp. 193, 197, 201, 202, 8vo, 1767; pp. 124, 125, 126, 8vo, 1817. 

[22] See _Edinburgh Review_ for October, 1842, p. 162. 

[23] It is well know with how much learning and ingenuity theRationalists of the German school have laboured to throw discredit onthe literal interpretation of the narratives, both of the Old and theNew Testaments; representing them as MYTHS, i. E. , fables allegoricallydescribing some physical or moral phænomena—philosophicalprinciples—systems, &c. —under the figure of actions performed bycertain ideal personages; these allegories having been, afterwards, through the mistake of the vulgar, believed as history. Thus, the realhistorical existence of such a person as the supposed founder of theChristian religion, and the acts attributed to him, are denied in theliteral sense, and the whole of the evangelical history is explainedon the "mythical" theory. 

Now it is a remarkable circumstance in reference to the point atpresent before us, that an eminent authoress of this century hasdistinctly declared that Napoleon Buonaparte was NOT A MAN, but aSYSTEM. 

[24] Germaniæ vocabulum recens et nuper additum; quoniam qui primiRhenum transgressi Gallos expulerint, ac nunc Tungri, tunc Germanivocati sint: ita nationis nomen in nomen gentis evaluisse paullatim, ut omnes, primum a victore ob metum, mox a seipsis invento nomine, Germani vocarentur. —_Tacitus, de Mor. Germ. _

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POSTSCRIPT TO THE THIRD EDITION. 

It may seem arrogant for an obscure and nameless individual to claimthe glory of having put to death the most formidable of all recordedheroes. But a shadowy champion may be overthrown by a shadowyantagonist. Many a terrific spectre has been laid by the beams of ahalfpenny candle. And if I have succeeded in making out, in theforegoing pages, a probable case of suspicion, it must, I think, beadmitted, that there is some ground for my present boast, of having_killed_ Napoleon Buonaparte. 

Let but the circumstances of the case be considered. This mightyEmperor, who had been so long the bugbear of the civilized world, after having obtained successes and undergone reverses, such as neverbefel any (other at least) _real_ potentate, was at length sentencedto confinement in the remote island of St. Helena: a measure whichmany persons wondered at, and many objected to, on various grounds;not unreasonably, supposing the illustrious exile to be a real person;but on the supposition of his being only a man of straw, thesituation was exceedingly favourable for keeping him out of the way ofimpertinent curiosity, when not wanted, and for making him thefoundation of any new plots that there might be occasion to conjureup. 

About this juncture it was that the public attention was firstinvited, by these pages, to the question as to the real existence ofNapoleon Buonaparte. They excited, it may be fairly supposed, alongwith much surprise and much censure, some degree of doubt, andprobably of consequent inquiry. No fresh evidence, as far as I canlearn, of the truth of the disputed points, was brought forward todispel these doubts. We heard, however, of the most jealousprecautions being used to prevent any intercourse between theformidable prisoner, and any stranger who, from motives of curiosity, might wish to visit him. The "man in the iron mask" could hardly havebeen more rigorously secluded: and we also heard various contradictoryreports of conversations between him and the few who were allowedaccess to him; the falsehood and inconsistency of most of thesereports being proved in contemporary publications. 

At length, just about the time when the public scepticism respectingthis extraordinary personage might be supposed to have risen to analarming height, it was announced to us that he was dead! A stop wasthus put, most opportunely, to all troublesome inquiries. I do notundertake to deny that such a person did live and die. That he was, and that he did, _everything_ that is reported, we cannot believe, unless we consent to admit contradictory statements; but many of theevents reported, however marvellous, are certainly not, when takenseparately, physically impossible. But I would only entreat the candidreader to reflect what might naturally be expected, on the suppositionof the surmises contained in the present work being well founded. Supposing the whole of the tale I have been considering to have been afabrication, what would be the natural result of such attempt toexcite inquiry into its truth? Evidently the shortest and mosteffectual mode of avoiding detection, would be to _kill_ the phantom, and so get rid of him at once. A ready and decisive answer would thusbe provided to any one in whom the foregoing arguments might haveexcited suspicions: "Sir, there can be no doubt that such a personexisted, and performed what is related of him; and if you will justtake a voyage to St. Helena, you may see with your own eyes, —not him, indeed, for he is no longer living, —but his _tomb_: and what evidencewould you have that is more decisive?"

So much for his _Death_: as for his _Life_, —it is just published byan eminent writer: besides which, the shops will supply us withabundance of busts and prints of this great man; all strikinglikenesses—of one another. The most incredulous must be satisfiedwith this! "Stat magni NOMINIS umbra!"

KONX OMPAX. 

POSTSCRIPT TO THE SEVENTH EDITION. 

Since the publication of the Sixth Edition of this work, the Frenchnation, and the world at large, have obtained an additional evidence, to which I hope they will attach as much weight as it deserves, of thereality of the wonderful history I have been treating of. The GreatNation, among the many indications lately given of an heroic zeal likewhat Homer attributes to his Argive warriors, τίσασθαι ἙΛΈΝΗΣ ὁρμήματάτε στοναχάς τε, have formed and executed the design of bringing homefor honourable interment the remains of their illustrious Chief. 

How many persons have actually inspected these relics, I have notascertained; but that a real coffin, containing real bones, wasbrought from St. Helena to France, I see no reason to disbelieve. 

Whether future visitors to St. Helena will be shown merely theidentical _place_ in which Buonaparte was (_said_ to have been)interred, or whether another set of real bones will be exhibited inthat island, we have yet to learn. 

This latter supposition is not very improbable. It was something of acredit to the island, an attraction to strangers, and a source ofprofit to some of the inhabitants, to possess so remarkable a relic;and this glory and advantage they must naturally wish to retain. Ifso, there seems no reason why they should not have a Buonaparte oftheir own; for there is, I believe, no doubt that there are, or were, several Museums in England, which, among other curiosities, boasted, each, of a genuine skull of Oliver Cromwell. 

Perhaps, therefore, we shall hear of several well authenticated skullsof Buonaparte also, in the collections of different virtuosos, all ofwhom (especially those in whose own crania the "organ of wonder" isthe most largely developed) will doubtless derive equal satisfactionfrom the relics they respectively possess. 

POSTSCRIPT TO THE NINTH EDITION. 

The Public has been of late much interested and not a littlebewildered, by the accounts of many strange events, said to haverecently taken place in France and other parts of the Continent. Arethese accounts of such a character as to allay, or to strengthen andincrease, such doubts as have been suggested in the foregoing pages?

We are told that there is now a Napoleon Buonaparte at the head of thegovernment of France. It is not, indeed, asserted that he is the veryoriginal Napoleon Buonaparte himself. The death of that personage, andthe transportation of his genuine bones to France, had been too widelyproclaimed to allow of his reappearance in his own proper person. But"uno avulso, non deficit alter. " Like the Thibetian worshippers of theDalai Lama, (who never dies; only his soul transmigrates into a freshbody), the French are so resolved, we are told, to be under aBuonaparte—whether that be (see note to p. 56) a man or "asystem"—that they have found, it seems, a kind of new incarnation ofthis their Grand Lama, in a person said to be the nephew of theoriginal one. 

And when, on hearing that this personage now fills the high office ofPresident of the French Republic, we inquire (very naturally) _how hecame there_, we are informed that, several years ago, he invadedFrance in an English vessel, (the _English_—as was observed in p. 52—having always been suspected of keeping Buonaparte ready, like thewinds in a Lapland witch's bag, to be let out on occasion, ) at thehead of a force, not, of six hundred men, like his supposed uncle inhis expedition from Elba, but of fifty-five, (!) with which he landedat Boulogne, proclaimed himself emperor, and was joined by no lessthan _one_ man! He was accordingly, we are told, arrested, brought totrial, and sentenced to imprisonment; but having, some years after, escaped from prison, and taken refuge in England, (_England_ again!)he thence returned to France: AND SO the French nation placedhim at the head of the government!

All this will doubtless be received as a very probable tale by thosewho have given full credit to all the stories I have alluded to in theforegoing pages. 

POSTSCRIPT TO THE ELEVENTH EDITION. 

When any dramatic piece _takes_—as the phrase is—with the Public, itwill usually be represented again and again with still-continuedapplause; and sometimes imitations of it will be produced; so that thesame drama in substance will, with occasional slight variations in theplot, and changes of names, long keep possession of the stage. 

Something like this has taken place with respect to that curioustragi-comedy—the scene of it laid in France—which has engaged theattention of the British public for about sixty years; during which ithas been "exhibited to crowded houses"—viz. , coffee-houses, reading-rooms, &c. , with unabated interest. 

The outline of this drama, or series of dramas, may be thus sketched:

_Dramatis Personæ. _

A. A King or other Sovereign. 

B. His Queen. 

C. The Heir apparent. 

D. E. F. His Ministers. 

G. H. I. J. K. Demagogues. 

L. A popular leader of superior ingenuity, who becomes ultimatelysupreme ruler under the title of Dictator, Consul, Emperor, King, President, or some other. 

Soldiers, Senators, Executioners, and other functionaries, Citizens, Fishwomen, &c. 

_Scene_, Paris. 

(1. ) The first Act of one of these dramas represents a monarchy, somewhat troubled by murmurs of disaffection, suspicions ofconspiracy, &c. 

(2. ) Second Act, a rebellion; in which ultimately the government isoverthrown. 

(3. ) Act the third, a provisional government established, onprinciples of liberty, equality, fraternity, &c. 

(4. ) Act the fourth, struggles of various parties for power, carriedon with sundry intrigues, and sanguinary conflicts. 

(5. ) Act the fifth, the re-establishment of some form of absolutemonarchy. 

And from this point we start afresh, and begin the same business overagain, with sundry fresh interludes. 

All this is highly amusing to the English Public to _hear_ and _read_of; but I doubt whether our countrymen would like to be actual_performers_ in such a drama. 

Whether the French really are so, or whether they are mystifying us inthe accounts they send over, I will not presume to decide. But if theformer supposition be the true one, —if they have been so long reallyacting over and over again in their own persons such a drama, it mustbe allowed that they deserve to be characterized as they have been inthe description given of certain European nations: "An Englishman, " ithas been said, "is never happy but when he is miserable; a Scotchmanis never at home but when he is abroad; an Irishman is never at peacebut when he is fighting; a Spaniard is never at liberty but when he isenslaved; and a Frenchman is never settled but when he is engaged in arevolution. "

POSTSCRIPT TO THE TWELFTH EDITION. 

"Time" says the proverb, "rings Truth to light. " But the process isgradual and slow. The debt is paid, as it were, by instalments. It isonly bit by bit, and at considerable intervals, that Truth comes forthas the morning twilight to dispel the mists of fiction. 

It is above forty years that men have been debating the question:—Whowere the parties that burned the city of Moscow?—without everthinking of the preliminary question, whether it ever was burnt atall. And now at length we learn that it never was. 

The following extract from a New Orleans paper contains theinformation obtained by an American traveller—one of that greatnation whose accuracy as to facts is so well known—who visited thespot. 

 INCIDENTS OF TRAVEL—CITY OF MOSCOW. 

 Senator Douglas is said to have made the discovery, while travelling in Russia, that the city of Moscow was never burned! The following statement of the matter is from the Muscatine (Iowa) Inquirer:

 "Coming on the boat, a few days ago, we happened to fall in company with Senator Douglas, who came on board at Quincy, on his way to Warsaw. In the course of a very interesting account of his travels in Russia, much of which has been published by letter-writers, he stated a fact which has never yet been published, but which startlingly contradicts the historical relation of one of the most extraordinary events that ever fell to the lot of history to record. For this reason the Judge said he felt a delicacy in making the assertion, that the city of Moscow was never burned!

 "He said, that previous to his arrival at Moscow, he had several disputes with his guide as to the burning of the city, the guide declaring that it never occurred, and seeming to be nettled at Mr. Douglas's persistency in his opinion; but, on examining the fire-marks around the city, and the city itself, he became satisfied that the guide was correct. 

 "The statement goes on to set forth that the antiquity of the architectural city—particularly of its 'six hundred first-class churches, ' stretching through ante-Napoleonic ages to Pagan times, and showing the handiwork of different nations of History—demonstrates that the city never was burned down (or up). "

 The Inquirer adds:

 "The Kremlin is a space of several hundred acres, in the heart of the city, in the shape of a flat iron, and is enclosed, by a wall of sixty feet high. Within this enclosure is the most magnificent palace in Europe, recently built, but constructed over an ancient palace, which remains, thus enclosed, whole and perfect, with all its windows, &c. 

 "Near the Kremlin, surrounded by a wall, is a Chinese town, appearing to be several hundred years old, still occupied by descendants of the original settlers. 

 "The circumstances which gave rise to the errors concerning the burning of Moscow, were these:—It is a city of four hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants, in circular form, occupying a large space, five miles across. There the winters are six months long, and the custom was, and still is, to lay up supplies of provisions and wood to last six months of severe cold weather. To prevent these gigantic supplies from encumbering the heart of the city, and yet render them as convenient as practicable to every locality, a row of wood houses was constructed to circle completely round the city, and outside of these was a row of granaries, and in these were deposited the whole of the supplies. Napoleon had entered the city with his army, and was himself occupying the palace of the Kremlin, when, one night, by order of the Russian governor, every wood house and every granary simultaneously burst into a blaze. All efforts to extinguish them were vain, and Napoleon found himself compelled to march his army through the fire. Retiring to an eminence he saw the whole city enveloped in vast sheets of flame, and clouds of smoke, and apparently all on fire. And far as he was concerned it might as well have been, for though houses enough were left to supply every soldier with a room, yet without provisions or fuel, and a Russian army to cut off supplies, he and his army could not subsist there. During the fire some houses were probably burnt, but the city was not. In the Kremlin a magazine blew up, cracking the church of Ivan more than a hundred feet up, but setting nothing on fire. 

 "Mr. Douglas saw the fire-marks around the city, where wood houses and granaries for winter supplies now stand as of old; but there appears no marks of conflagration within the city. "

Any wary sceptic, indeed, might have found much ground for doubt inthe very accounts themselves that were given of the conflagration. For, the Russians have always denied that _they_ burned it; and theFrench equally disclaimed the act. Each of the two parties betweenwhom the accusation lay, strenuously denied it. And it must beacknowledged that each had very strong presumptions of innocence tourge. It was certainly most _unlikely_ that the Russians shouldthemselves destroy their ancient and venerable capital; and that, too, when they were boasting of having just gained a great victory atBorodino over an army which, therefore, they might hope to defeatagain, and to drive out of their city. And it was no less unlikelythat the French should burn down a city of which they had possession, and which afforded shelter and refreshment to their troops. This wouldhave been one of the most improbable circumstances of that mostimprobable (supposed) campaign. To add to the marvel, we are told thatthe French army nevertheless waited for five weeks, without anyobject, amid the ashes of this destroyed city, just at the approach, of winter, and as if on purpose to be overtaken and destroyed by snowsand frost!

However, all the difficulties of the question whether any of thesethings took place at all, were by most persons overlooked, becausethe question itself never occurred to them, in their eagerness todecide _who_ it was that burned the city. And at length it comes outthat the answer is, NOBODY!

THE END. 

POSTSCRIPT. 

With respect to the foregoing arguments, it has been asserted (thoughwithout even any attempt at proof) that they go to prove that theBible-narratives contain nothing more miraculous than the receivedaccounts of Napoleon Buonapartè. And this is indeed true, if we usethe word "_miraculous_" in the very unusual sense in which Hume (as ispointed out in the foregoing pages) has employed it; to signify simply"_improbable_;" an abuse of language on which his argument mainlydepends. 

It is indeed shown, that there are at least as many and as great_improbabilities_ in the history of Buonapartè as in any of theScripture-narratives; and that as plausible objections, —if not moreso, —may be brought against the one history as the other. 

But taking words in their ordinary, established sense, the assertionis manifestly the opposite of the truth. For, any one who does, —inspite of all the improbabilities, —_believe_ the truth of _both_histories, is, evidently, a believer in miracles; since he believestwo narratives, one of which is _not_ miraculous, while the other is. The history of Buonapartè contains—though much that is veryimprobable—nothing that is to be called, according to the establisheduse of language, miraculous. And the Scriptures contain, as an_essential_ part of their narrative, _Miracles_, properly so called. 

To talk of believing the Bible, all _except the Miracles_, would belike professing to believe the accounts of Buonapartè, _except_ onlyhis commanding armies, and having been at Elba and at Saint Helena. 

 * * * * *

One cannot doubt that in the course of the _forty years_ that thislittle Work has been before the Public, some real, valid refutation ofthe argument would have been adduced, if any such could have beendevised. 

1860. 

 * * * * *