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ST. HELENA 



we should be permitted to witness his funeral, but as no communica- 

 tion was allowed from the ships in the roads to the shore between 

 the hours of sundown and sunrise, we were obliged to pass the night 

 in conjecture. Under these circumstances, we were scarcely pro- 

 pared for the news that reached us early in the morning. It was 

 a general notice to all strangers and residents, informing them 

 that they were permitted to visit the island and to see the body 

 of General Buonaparte as it lay in state. 



After the lapse of six and twenty years, and now, when the 

 passions of that mighty conflict which filled Europe in the early 

 part of the century are extinct, it would be difficult to make the 

 present generation comprehend the profound emotions which the 

 news had upon those who, like ourselves, happened to be at St. 

 Helena at this eventful period. Consequently, on the second 

 day after Napoleon's death nearly every individual on the island, 

 as well as those in the different vessels at anchor in the roads, 

 repaired to Longwood, the place where he died. Of course the 

 house was thronged with people, but as the greatest order prevailed, 

 I was soon in the room with all that was left of the most wondrous 

 man of modern times. Suddenly coming out of the glare of a 

 tropical sun into the partially darkened room, a few moments 

 elapsed before the objects were properly defined. Gradually, as 

 the contents of the apartment tumbled into shape, the person of 

 Napoleon, dressed in a plain green uniform, grew out of the compara- 

 tive gloom, and became the loadstar of attraction. 



He was lying on a small brass tent bedstead, which had been 

 with him in most of his campaigns. I found it impossible to with- 

 draw my eyes for an instant from his countenance ; it caused in 

 me a sensation difficult to define, but the impression can never be 

 forgotten. There was a crucifix on his breast, and by its side 

 glittered a large diamond star, the brilliancy of which strangely 

 contrasted with the pallid face of the dead. The skin was of a 

 most intense whiteness, and looked like wax. 



What struck me as most strange was the mean appearance of 

 the surrounding furniture and the " getting up " of the ceremony. 

 There appeared to be no want of respect to the memory of the dead 

 hero, whatever might have been his treatment when living. But 

 the knowledge of this did not prevent a comparison between his 

 fallen state and the magnificence and power with which imagin- 

 ation invested him when living. And although it may be idle 

 to compare the deeds of a great man with the appearance of the 

 man himself, yet it is what most of us are prone to do ; and on this 

 occasion it was impossible to avoid falling into the practice, for 

 possibly the results of a comparison could not be more striking. 

 Napoleon at Austerlitz or Zena, with continental Europe at his feet, 

 and Napoleon lying dead in that miserable room, presents to the 

 dullest imagination a theme pregnant with emotion. It was indeed 

 difficult to understand how, even by the proverbial instability of 

 fortune, that insensible form lying in its utter helplessness could 

 ever have been the 



