I next considered the character of the tyrant, who so long and so successfully triumphed over prostrate Europe, England alone preserving unimpaired that liberty, which she was destined to be the means of diffusing to rival nations. It would be absurd to deny Buonaparte the praise due to the matchless activity, and consummate skill, with which he conducted the enterprizes suggested by his boundless ambition; and which made him the most formidable enemy with whom England ever had to contend; but his cruelty, his suspicion, and his pride, (which made him equally disregard those laws of honour, and those precepts of morality, respected by the general feelings of mankind), as they excited the indignation of thinking men, prevented any pity at his fall. Such a man was destined only to excite astonishment, not admiration; and that astonishment could not fail of being greatly diminished, by his want of extraordinary resources, when placed in a situation, upon the possibility of which he had disdained to calculate.
His continued aggressions raised Europe against him from without, and he was overthrown, because he had completely disgusted the fickle people, whom he had made the instruments of his ambition.
It would surely require the pen of a Tacitus to delineate with accuracy the character of such a man, who, to use the words of the lamented Moreau, "had covered the French name with such shame and disgrace, that it would be almost a disgrace to bear it; and who had brought upon that unhappy country the curses and hatred of the universe."
His ambitious wars are supposed to have occasioned the destruction of nearly four millions of men, whom he considered merely as instruments to accomplish his extravagant views; and he is reported to have said repeatedly, that "it signified little whether or not he reigned over the French, provided he reigned over France."
He delighted in carnage, and speaks in one of his bulletins of "800 pieces of cannon dispersing death on all sides," as presenting "a most admirable spectacle."
On Buonaparte's arrival from Egypt, he found things as favourable for his projected usurpation as his most sanguine hopes could have imagined. In the eighteen months which had preceded his arrival, there had arisen no fewer than four constitutions, and the French might well exclaim, "They have made us so many constitutions, that we have now none remaining!" Wearied out with the succession of sanguinary factions, each endeavouring to establish itself by proscriptions, banishments, and confiscations, France submitted without opposition to the government of a ruler, who seemed sufficiently strong to keep all minor tyrants in subjection; and, despairing of freedom, sought only an interval of repose. This hope was, however, not destined to be realized, for Buonaparte soon pursued all those who presumed to oppose his schemes in the slightest degree with astonishing eagerness, and those who submitted with the most alacrity, were treated only with contempt.
He was hardly seated on his throne, before he spoke of making France a camp, and all the French soldiers. A long series of success made him despise those precautions so necessary to insure it, and rendered his catastrophe the more striking.
The character given by Seneca of the Corsicans, has been quoted as applicable to the most famous character that island has ever produced: he says, "the leading characteristics of these islanders are revenge, theft, lying, and impiety." Over the downfall of such a man, the civilized world must rejoice; but the contemplation of his character affords a salutary lesson to ambition, which, carried to excess, ruins that greatness it would so madly increase.
The last years of his reign were distinguished by the number of plots which were pretended to be discovered, and proved the truth of a remark of Mary de Medicis, "That a false report believed during three days, tended to secure the crown on the head of an usurper."
But neither his guards, nor his police, could insure him a moment of repose.