actually believed what they published, may have suspected mere
_exaggeration_ in stories which were entire _fictions_? Many men have
that sort of simplicity, that they think themselves quite secure
against being deceived, provided they believe only _part_ of the story
they hear; when perhaps the whole is equally false. So that perhaps
these simple-hearted editors, who were so vehement against lying
bulletins, and so wary in announcing their great news, were in the
condition of a clown, who thinks he has bought a great bargain of a
Jew because he has beat down the price perhaps from a guinea to a
crown, for some article that is not really worth a groat.

With respect to the _character_ of Buonaparte, the dissonance is, if
possible, 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 place
him on the very verge of insanity. But allowing that all this may be
the colouring of party-prejudice, (which surely is allowing a great
deal,) there is one point to which such a solution will hardly apply:
if there be anything that can be clearly ascertained in history, one
would think it must be the _personal courage of a military man_; yet
here we are as much at a loss as ever; at the very same times, and on
the same occasions, he is described by different writers as a man of
undaunted intrepidity, and as an absolute poltroon.

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