# Historic Doubts Relative to Napoleon Buonaparte/Postscript to the Eleventh Edition

POSTSCRIPT TO THE ELEVENTH EDITION.
When any dramatic piece takes—as the phrase is—with the public, it will usually be represented again and again with still-continued applause; and sometimes imitations of it will be produced; so that the same drama in substance will, with occasional slight variations in the plot, and changes of names, long keep possession of the stage.
Something like this has taken place with respect to that curious tragi-comedy—the scene of it laid in France—which has engaged the attention of the British public for about sixty ​years; during which it has been "exhibited to crowded houses"—namely, coffee-houses, reading-rooms, etc.—with unabated interest.
The outline of this drama, or series of dramas, may be thus sketched:
DRAMATIS PERSONS.
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 ultimately supreme ruler, under the title of Dictator, Consul, Emperor, King, President, or some other.
Soldiers, Senators, Executioners, and other functionaries, Citizens, Fishwomen, etc.
Scene, Paris.
I. The first Act of one of these dramas represents a monarchy, somewhat troubled by murmurs of disaffection, suspicions of conspiracy, etc.
II. Second Act, a rebellion; in which ultimately the government is overthrown.
III. Act the third, a provisional government established, on principles of liberty, equality, fraternity, etc.
IV. Act the fourth, struggles of various parties for power, carried on with sundry intrigues and sanguinary conflicts.
V. Act the fifth, the reëstablishment of some form of absolute monarchy.
And from this point we start afresh, and begin the same business over again, 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 in the accounts they send over, I will not presume to decide. But if the former supposition be the true ​one,—if they have been so long really acting over and over again in their own persons such a drama, it must be allowed that they deserve to be characterized as they have been in the description given of certain European nations,—"An Englishman," it has been said, "is never happy but when he is miserable; a Scotchman is never at home but when he is abroad; an Irishman is never at peace but when he is fighting; a Spaniard is never at, liberty but when he is enslaved; and a Frenchman is never settled but when he is engaged in a revolution."
Besides the many strange and improbable circumstances in the history of Buonaparte that have been noticed in the foregoing pages, there are many others that have been omitted, two of which it may be worth while to advert to.
One of the most incredible is the received account of the persons known as the "Detenus." It is well known that a great number of English gentlemen passed many years, in the early part of the present century, abroad,—by their own account, in France. Their statement was, that, while travelling in that country for their amusement, as peaceable tourists, they were, on the sudden breaking out of a war, seized by this terrible Buonaparte, and kept prisoners for about twelve years, contrary to all the usages of civilized nations,—to all principles of justice, of humanity, of enlightened policy; many of them thus wasting in captivity the most important portion of their lives, and having all their prospects blighted.
Now, whether these persons were in reality exiles by choice, for the sake of keeping out of the way of creditors, or of enjoying the society of those they preferred to their own domestic circle, I do not venture 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 man to make the most enormous sacrifices of human life, and to perpetrate the most atrocious crimes, for the ad​vancement of his views of conquest. But that this great man—as he is usually reckoned even by adversaries—this hero according to some—this illustrious warrior and mighty sovereign should have stooped to be guilty of an act of mean and petty malice worthy of a spiteful old woman,—a piece of paltry cruelty which could not at all conduce to his success in the war, or produce any effect except to degrade his country, and exasperate ours,—this, surely, is quite incredible. "Pizarro," says Elvira, in Kotzebue's play, "if not always justly, at least act always greatly."
But a still more wonderful circumstance connected with this transaction remains behind. A large portion of the English nation, and among these the whole of the Whig party, are said to have expressed the most vehement indignation, mingled with compassion, at the banishment from Europe, and confinement in St. Helena, of this great man. No considerations of regard for the peace and security of our own country, no dread of the power of so able and indefatigable a warrior, and so inveterate an enemy, should have induced us, they thought, to subject this formidable personage to a confinement which was far less severe than that to which he was said to have subjected such numbers of our countrymen, the harmless, non-belligerent travellers, whom (according to the story) he kidnapped in France, with no object but to gratify the basest and most unmanly spite.
But there is no truth in that story; and that it was not believed by those who manifested so much sympathy and indignation on this great man's account, is sufficiently proved by that very sympathy and indignation.
There are, again, other striking improbabilities connected with the Polish nation in the history before us. Buonaparte is represented as having always expressed the strongest sympathy with that ill-used people; and they, as being devotedly attached to him, and fighting with the utmost fidelity and bravery in his armies, in which some of them obtained high commands. Now he had it manifestly in his power at one period (according to the received accounts), with a stroke ​of his pen to reëstablish Poland as an independent state. For, in his last Russian war, he had complete occupation of the country (of which the population was perfectly friendly); the Russian portion of it was his by right of conquest; and Austria and Prussia, then his allies, and almost his subjects, would gladly have resigned their portions in exchange for some of the provinces they had ceded to France, and which were, to him, of little value, but, to them, important. And, indeed, Prussia was (as we are told) so thoroughly humbled and weakened, that he might easily have enforced the cession of Prussian-Poland, even without any compensation. And the reëstablishment of the Polish kingdom would have been as evidently politic as it was reasonable. The independence of a faithful and devoted ally, at enmity with the surrounding nations—the very nations that were the most likely to combine (as they often had done) against him,—this would have given him, at no cost, a kind of strong garrison to maintain his power, and to keep his enemies in check.
Yet this most obvious step, the history tells us, he did not take; but made flattering speeches to the Poles, used their services, and did nothing for them!
This is, alone, sufficiently improbable. But we are required, moreover, to believe that the Poles, instead of execrating this man who had done them the unpardonable wrong of wantonly disappointing the expectations he had, for his purposes, excited, thus adding treachery to ingratitude,—instead of this, continued to the last as much devoted to him as ever, and even now idolize his memory! We are to believe, in short, that this Buonaparte, not only in his own conduct and adventures violated all the established rules of probability, but also caused all other persons, as many as came in contact with him, to act as no mortals ever did act before: may we not add, as no mortals ever did act at all?
Many other improbabilities might be added to the list, and will be found in the complete edition of that history, from which some extracts have been given in the foregoing pages, ​and which has been published (under the title of "Historic certainties") by Aristarchus Newlight, with a learned commentary (not, indeed, adopting the views contained in the foregoing pages, but) quite equal in ingenuity to a late work on the "Hebrew Monarchy."