ST. HELENA 239 



" Man of a thousand thrones, 

 Who strewed our earth with hostile bones." 



Solemnly and sternly the reality forced itself upon all, and I felt 

 that I was reading a journal of true romance, so absorbing, so 

 wretched, that if I was to confine my studies to man, it would be 

 unnecessary to peruse a second volume to grow perfect in know- 

 ledge or reflection. 



The time allowed for the visitors to remain in the chamber was 

 very limited and condensed observations into a passing glimpse. 

 This could not well have been otherwise, as every individual on 

 the island was anxious to obtain even a momentary view of one 

 who had attracted so large a portion of the attention of the world. 

 And not the least singular spectacle seen on that day was the motley 

 group which Napoleon's fame had drawn around his funeral couch. 

 For although St. Helena on the map may at first appear to be a 

 secluded spot, yet in reality it is not so. A glance or two is sufficient 

 to assure us that it is placed in the centre of the great highway of 

 the world, where the necessities of commerce, and the wants and 

 hazards inseparable from a sea-faring life, are the means of bringing 

 together the antipodes of the human race. And if the dense masses 

 of people which thronged to his second funeral at a more recent 

 period, in his own dear France, were wanting, their deficiency in 

 numbers was in some sort compensated by the variety of men ; 

 or if there was not a multitude, there was, at least, a medley of 

 curious gazers. 



Foremost in intelligence were the French and English ; but 

 apart from these stood the wondering African negro, the uncouth 

 Hottentot from the Cape, the yellow Brazilian from South America, 

 the fierce-looking Lascar from Bengal, and the quiet, inoffensive 

 Chinese from remotest Asia. Some of these knew but little of 

 Napoleon's renown ; but being inoculated with the prevailing 

 emotion, they came, like the more intellectual European, to gaze 

 upon the embers of that dazzling meteor, the blaze of which had 

 so recently expired. 



The same tincture of corruption dyes all mortality, and hero 

 dust, as well as common clay, soon becomes offensive in a tropical 

 climate. Even on the second day after his death it was already 

 time he should have been soldered up. With a knowledge of this 

 fact, the Governor-General had ordered the funeral to take place 

 on the 9th, thus allowing only four days to elapse between his 

 death and his burial. 



In the meantime the spot where the pioneers were digging the 

 grave became an object of mingled curiosity and veneration, 

 second only in importance to the illustrious hero who was so soon 

 to make it his abiding place. 



It was close to a small spring, of which Napoleon always drank, 

 and occasionally he breakfasted beneath the shade of two willows 

 that bend over the bubbling water. The grave was singularly 

 made. It was formed very wide at the top, but sloped gradually 



