ST. HELENA
St. Helena in 1853
The Sea Serpent stopped in St. Helena
on November 14, 1853.
HISTORY
St. Helena is a British possession in the South Atlantic Ocean,
and one of the remotest islands in the world.
When it was discovered by the Portuguese in 1502 it was uninhabited.
The British East India Company was the first to establish a settlement in 1657.
For centuries it was an important stopover
for ships sailing to Europe from Asia and Southern Africa.
In 1855, 1100 ships called at the island;
but the island’s importance slipped after the Suez Canal was built.
In 1889 the number dropped to 288.
GEOGRAPHY
St. Helena has a rugged terrain of volcanic origin.
The port of Jamestown lies in a valley between two peaks.
At 11 o’clock am we anchored off Jamestown, St. Helena. St. Helena is indeed a rock bound isle. It looks like solid rock as seen from the water. There is not a sign of a beach, the rock rises up precipitously from the water on all sides in many instances to great height – sometimes towering up to peaks, then in some places broken and ragged, looking somewhat like ruined castles. The rock generally is a rich looking brown, altogether it is an exceedingly picturesque looking isle. Jamestown as seen from the water looks very pretty; it is situated in a valley, or rather a ravine, that is so very narrow, hills, high, towering up on either side during its whole length.
From A Visit to India, China and Japan in the Year 1853 by Bayard Taylor...
The coast on this side rises into two bold heads, one of which projects
outward like a gigantic capstan, while the other runs
slantingly up to a pointed top, which is crowned with a signal
station. The rock has a dark, bluish-slate color, with streaks
of a warm reddish-brown, and the strata, burst apart in the
centre, yet slanting upward toward each other like the sides of a volcano, tell of upheaval by some tremendous subterranean
agency. The structure of the island is purely volcanic, and,
except the rock of Aden, on the coast of Arabia, I never saw
a more forbidding spot.
There was another battery near at hand, at the foot of a deep, barren
glen, called Rupert’s Valley, from which a road, notched in the
rock, leads around the intervening cliffs to the gorge, at the
bottom of which Jamestown is built. A sea-wall across the
mouth of this gorge, a row of ragged trees, weather-beaten by
the gales of the Atlantic, and the spire of a church, were all
that appeared of the town. The walls of the fort crowned the
lofty cliff above, and high behind them towered the signal
station, on the top of a conical peak, the loftiest in the island.
The stone ladder which leads from the tower to the fort was
marked on the face of the cliff like a white ribbon unrolled
from its top. Inland, a summit covered with dark pine-trees,
from the midst of which glimmered the white front of a country
mansion, rose above the naked heights of the shore. This
was the only gleam of fertility which enlivened the terrible
sterility of the view.
Passing a row of mean houses, built against the overhanging
rock, a drawbridge over a narrow moat admitted us within the
walls. A second wall and gate, a short distance further, ushered
us into the public square of Jamestown. Even at its outlet,
the valley is not more than a hundred and fifty yards wide, and
the little town is crowded, or rather jammed, deep in its bot
tom, between nearly perpendicular cliffs, seven or eight hundred
feet in height. At the top of the square is the church, a plain
yellowish structure, with a tall, square, pointed spire; and
beyond it Market street, the main thoroughfare of the little
place, opens up the valley.
They also described the beauty of the ascent to the top.
At the head of the valley where it is closely enclosed by the hills on either side is a waterfall. The height of the falls is considerable, I know not the number of feet. It looks beautifully, adding much to the picturesqueness of the scene.
The whole island of St. Helena is broken up into hills, valleys and ravines. Longwood is situated on very high land and some five miles from the town. Our ride there was almost a continuous ascent and a very steep one. All the first part of the ride was on the side of the mountain to the left of the town and we had a steep precipice on the one side and a steep ascent on the other. The precipice side of the road was protected by a strong stone parapet some two feet high. The views as we rode along were various and very fine. On account of the steepness of the hill, the road had to wind backwards and forwards, but ever extending farther inland to carry us to the top. We had a fine view of the town, looking right down upon it. It is long and very, very narrow, the houses having much the appearance of wooden boxes – no beauty about them. The barracks were quite extensive and we saw a good many soldiers. The view of the “Briars” is very pleasant and pretty with the closing valley and the delicate waterfall for its background. There are two buildings composing this place, the house where the family lived, and what was called the pavilion where the Emperor had his rooms. I should liked much to have gone over to the house where Napoleon had spent his happiest hours on the island but it was situated on our road but below us; also, it is occupied by a private family.
As we reached the top of this high and steep hill, the view became magnificent. Look where you would, high towering hills with steep sides, beautiful walks and ravines met the eye. Here and there, up and down, a white house would meet the eye with its beautiful garden and cultivated fields. Every spot of earth was made the most of, even if it was but a little isolated place with rock all around. These lovely cultivated spots and valleys looked doubly beautiful and green from the immense rocky frame works with which they were surrounded.
The day was delightful, quite warm in the town and the sun shone hot on us during the first part of our ride, but as we neared the top, the air became cool and fresh. I was glad to put my large shawl round me and wrap my Willie in another. All day the clouds hovered round and hid some of the highest of the mountain tops. One or two magnificent scenes reminded Mr. Taylor strongly of Switzerland; and then, as another bend of the road brought to our view another set of high hills or mountains as the others, all broken up into hills and valleys, he exclaimed how like the hills round the Dead Sea, and this he said again and again as we rode onward.
No vegetation was seen on their sides, they looked old and seared. But I must not forget the flowers on our roadsides, nearly the whole ride we had quantities and of quite a variety. Wherever there was earth, there were flowers plenty, and several kinds seem to grow on the very rock itself. There was quantities of the Broom, with its golden flowers, also what we call the “wax plant” at home with its exquisite pinkish white flowers, varieties of cactus plants, some with red flowers, some with white delicately tinged with pink or purple and quantities with an extremely rich purple flower growing in clusters. Also, geraniums in many places lined the roads.
As we approached nearer Longwood, the scenes became exquisitely beautiful. We would look down upon the most beautiful little valleys occasionally with a pretty house most picturesquely situated and then our road would now and then take us through pine groves with little bewitching pathways leading here and there. How I longed for a week’s time to spend in wandering about this interesting island. Just before Longwood came in sight, we had a fine view of the “Tombs” in the valley below us.
From A Visit to India, China and Japan in the Year 1853 by Bayard Taylor...
A carriage—almost the only one in Jamestown—was procured
for Mrs. Howland; my fellow-passenger, Parkman, provided
himself with a saddle-horse, and we set out for Longwood.
We had a mounted Portuguese postillion, and rattled up the
steep and stony main street in a style which drew upon us the
eyes of all Jamestown. The road soon left the town, ascending
the right side of the ravine by a very long and steep grade.
The depth and narrowness of the gorge completely shut out the air; the
heat was radiated powerfully from its walls of black volcanic
rock, and the bristling cacti and yuccas by the roadside, with
full-crowned cocoa-palms below, gave it a fiery, savage, tropical
character. The peak of the signal-station loomed high above
us from the opposite side, and now the head of the ravine—a
precipice several hundred feet high, over which fell a silver
thread of water—came into sight. This water supplies the
town and shipping, beside fertilizing the gardens in the bed of
the ravine. It is clear as crystal, and of the sweetest and
freshest quality. Looking backward, we saw the spire of the
little church at the bottom projected against the blue plain of
ocean, the pigmy hulls of the vessels in the roads, and a great
triangular slice of sea, which grew wider and longer as we
ascended, until the horizon was full fifty miles distant.
Just above the terrace the road turned, and, after a short
ascent, gained the crest of the ridge, where the grade became
easier, and the cool south-east trade-wind, blowing over the
height, refreshed us after the breathless heat of the ravine.
The road was bordered with pine-trees, and patches of soft
green turf took the place of the volcanic dust and cinders.
The flower-stems of the aloe-plant, ten feet in height, had
already begun to wither, but the purple buds of the cactus were
opening, and thick clusters of a watery, succulent plant were
starred with white, pink, and golden blossoms. We had now
attained the central upland of the island, which slopes downward
in all directions to the summit of the sea-wall of cliffs.
On emerging again from the wood, a landscape of a very different
character met our view. Over a deep valley, the sides
of which were alternately green with turf and golden with
patches of blossoming broom, we looked upon a ridge of table
land three or four miles long, near the extremity of which, surrounded
by a few straggling trees, we saw the houses of Longwood.
In order to reach them, it was necessary to pass around
the head of the intervening valley. In this direction the landscape
was green and fresh, dotted with groves of pine and white
country-houses. Flocks of sheep grazed on the turfy hill-sides,
and a few cows and horses ruminated among the clumps of
broom. Down in the bottom of the valley, I noticed a small enclosure, planted with Italian cypresses, and with a square
white object in the centre. It did not need the postillion’s
words to assure me that I looked upon the Grave of Napoleon.
Looking eastward towards the sea, the hills became bare
and red, gashed with chasms and falling off in tremendous precipices,
the height of which we would only guess from the dim
blue of the great sphere of sea, whose far-off horizon was drawn
above their summits, so that we seemed to stand in the centre
of a vast concavity. In color, form, and magnificent desolation,
these hills called to my mind the mountain region surrounding
the Dead Sea. Clouds rested upon the high, pine
wooded summits to the west of us, and the broad, sloping valley,
on the other side of the ridge of Longwood, was as green
as a dell of Switzerland. The view of those fresh pasture
slopes, with their flocks of sheep, their groves and cottages, was
all the more delightful from its being wholly unexpected.
Where the ridge joins the hills, and one can look into both
valleys at the same time, there is a small tavern, with the
familiar English sign of the “Crown and Rose.” Our road
now led eastward along the top of the ridge, over a waste tract
covered with clumps of broom, for another mile and a half,
when we reached the gate of the Longwood Farm. A broad
avenue of trees, which all lean inland from the stress of the
trade-wind, conducts to the group of buildings, on a bleak spot,
overlooking the sea, and exposed to the full force of the wind.
Our wheels rolled over a thick, green turf, the freshness of
which showed how infrequent must be the visits of strangers.
NAPOLEON
St. Helena is perhaps best known for being
the site of Napoleon’s second exile
after his final defeat in 1815.
FIRST DEFEAT AND EXILE
In 1814, the Napoleonic Wars were coming to an end.
The Armies of the Coalition (Austria, Russia, Spain, and United Kingdom)
were marching to Paris.
Napoleon was forced to abdicate.
He was exiled to the island of Elba, off the Tuscany coast.
Instead of being treated like a prisoner,
Napoleon was allowed to have control over the island
and even keep a small army.
He escaped on February 26th 1815,
and made a triumphant return to France.
SECOND DEFEAT
Napoleon ruled for 100 days and assembled an army;
the Seventh Coalition was formed against him.
They met on the battlefield in Belgium at Waterloo,
where Napoleon was finally defeated
on June 18, 1815.
SECOND EXILE
This time England sent him to the remote island of St. Helena,
where he was under the constant watch of British guards.
He arrived on October 15, 1815.
THE BRIARS
Napoleon first spent a few months at The Briars
on the grounds of the Balcombe family’s home.
There he made friends with 13-year old Betsy Balcombe.
She later wrote a memoir.
Recollections of the Emperor Napoleon
During the First Three Years of his Captivity.
The view of the “Briars” is very pleasant and pretty with the closing valley and the delicate waterfall for its background. There are two buildings composing this place, the house where the family lived, and what was called the pavilion where the Emperor had his rooms. I should liked much to have gone over to the house where Napoleon had spent his happiest hours on the island but it was situated on our road but below us; also, it is occupied by a private family.
From A Visit to India, China and Japan in the Year 1853 by Bayard Taylor...
Near the top of the ravine there is a natural terrace about
a quarter of a mile in length, lying opposite to the cascade. It
contains a few small fields, divided by scrubby hedges, and,
near the further end, two pleasant dwelling-houses, surrounded
by a garden in which I saw some fine orange-trees. This is
“The Briars,” memorable for having been Napoleon’s first residence
on the island. The Balcombe family occupied the
larger of the two dwellings, which is flanked by tall Italian
cypresses, while the other building, which was then a summer
pavilion, but was afterwards enlarged to accommodate the Emperor
and his suite, received him on the very night of his landing
from the Bellerophon. It stands on a little knoll, overlooking
a deep glen, which debouches into the main valley just below. The place is cheerful though solitary; it has a sheltered,
sunny aspect, compared with the bleak heights of Longwood,
and I do not wonder that the great exile left it with
regret. Miss Balcombe’s account of Napoleon’s sojourn at
“The Briars,” is among the most striking reminiscences of his
life on the island.
Bayard Taylor wrote:
Miss Balcombe’s account of Napoleon’s sojourn at “The Briars,”
is among the most striking reminiscences of his life on the island.
LONGWOOD HOUSE
After that, Napoleon was moved to Longwood House,
which had been a farm used by the British East India Company.
It was not luxurious – there was a rat infestation and the island was known for its large earwig insects.
While at Longwood House, Napoleon led a quiet life.
He seemed to have enjoyed some walks around the home and in the Valley of the Willows.
He wrote some books, dictated memoirs, took English lessons,
tended a garden, and played chess.
DEATH
Napoleon became quite ill with what may have been a stomach ulcer or cancer.
Realizing that Longwood House was not a suitable place for the former Emperor, the British government built him a new home, but he never moved there.
Napoleon died in Longwood House on the 5th of May 1821.
There have been rumors that Napoleon escaped, or
that he was poisoned by arsenic, either purposefully,
or through the wallpaper at Longwood House,
but tests proved inconclusive.
BURIAL
Napoleon wrote a will while at Longwood House,
requesting to be buried in Paris on the banks of the Seine,
but the British buried him on St. Helena in the Valley of the Willows –
also known as Geranium Valley or Sane Valley –
and later Valley of the Tomb.
RETOUR DES CENDRES
After France’s July Revolution of 1830,
Napoleon’s popularity grew once again
to reach almost legendary status.
Petitions were made to return his body to France.
In 1840, King Louis-Philippe’s son, François, Prince de Joinville,
was sent to St. Helena in the Belle Poule
for the “retour des cendres” – the return of Napoleon to France.
A magnificent funeral was held in Paris in December 1840.
Napoleon’s body was conveyed through the Arc de Triomphe to the Invalides, where it is today.
In 1848, Napoleon’s nephew Louis-Napoleon won election to the presidency of the Second Republic.
In 1852, he declared himself Emperor Napoleon III.
CONDITIONS in 1853
Sarah, Willie, Mary, Bayard Taylor and Mr. Parkman
visited Longwood House and the Valley of the Tomb
on November 14, 1853.
Natives of the island were charging to give tours of the home and burial ground.
The visitors were appalled by its terrible condition.
Both Sarah and Bayard Taylor wrote vivid descriptions of that day.
My heart failed me as we reached Longwood, much a miserable wretched looking place met our eyes. Before entering the gate, a card was handed us stating under what terms we could visit the place. The door was opened, and we stepped directly into a room. Never can I forget the indescribable feeling that took possession of me. I thought before I landed that I should wander over St. Helena, view its scenery with feelings unlike any I had every felt before. During my ride I had again and again said to myself Napoleon has stood here and regarded again and again this same scene, but the thought did not produce any peculiar feeling. But it was not so when I entered that house. To be sure, it is now uninhabited and defaced, almost a ruin, but even in its best days, what a place to put Napoleon, almost the conqueror of the world; the dweller in magnificent palaces. If it had been a fine house with aught that could have told of even comfort for such a man, perhaps I should have had none of these feelings, but such as they were, I could scarce control them at times. I felt a shot of indignant horror that the great Napoleon had lived and died there.
The first room that we entered was called the “Billiard Room”, a small square room; the next, the room in which he died, which I believe was called the Library. It was very small and narrow; in this room all remains of plaster had vanished and the bare stone walls met the eye on all sides. There was one very small window and the head of Napoleon’s bed rested against this window. A stone from the side of the window just where his head came had been detached and carried to France. While looking at the engraving of this room, Mr. Kimball told me that Frenchmen would stand and weep as they looked upon this place. I did not wonder, as I thought of it while standing there. If I had been alone sure am I that I too would have wept. From this room we passed into the dining room, another small miserable place through which a door opened directly into the yard. A few steps here led us to a door at the side, this also opened directly into a room which was the bedroom of Napoleon. This room was larger than the others and in the corner behind the door General Montholon slept. This room is the only one used and it is used as a stable; when we were there some five or six cows were its occupants.
No care whatsoever is taken of the grounds around. All looks dreary and desolate within and without. We walked to what was called Napoleon’s fish pond, its shape semi-circular. The edges were built up with stone on the little tongue of land in the center. Napoleon used to sit and feed the fish with bread.
The woman proposed that we should go over the house that was built (all called Longwood) for Napoleon by the English Government. It was not finished at the time of his death and, of course, never occupied by him. Why could they not have left him at the “Briars” till this building was complete? There he was patient and comparatively happy, at that wretched building to which they took him, his life was fretted away. I should think every Englishman would feel ashamed when they look upon that place and hate to have strangers go there; for their own sakes, they ought to destroy every vestige of it.
On our way to the new house, which is but a few steps, we encountered a singular looking tree. It is old, the trunk large – after growing a foot or two from the ground, it leans and grows parallel with the ground. Sure was I that Napoleon had oft sat there, perhaps by the hour, with book in hand. Mr. Taylor seemed to think the same, for we both found ourselves standing at the same time on the tree.
The new house at Longwood is situated in a pleasant, sheltered place, the house square and very large, having several rooms on either side. The rooms are large and handsome, each having large double windows, the house has been occupied, but vacant now, and will soon to ruins go unless better care is taken of it. If handsomely furnished and the grounds well taken care of, it would be a charming place. In the bathroom is the same bathing tub that Napoleon used at the other house, the marble with which it had been lined some gentleman had purchased and carried off. There were many flowers round the grounds, and we all picked large bouquets – many of these flowers I have pressed. I have now two large bouquets by my side, one from Longwood, the other from the lovely vale where Napoleon was buried.
We all set off for the Tomb, the carriage going on before to take us up at another place ahead. Our path led us through beautiful grounds situated on the side of a hill, vale – one of the most lovely spots I ever saw, beautiful grassy hills with trees of various kinds scattered over them, rise on three sides. Our path to the tomb wound down the sides of two. The tomb is situated in the middle of this vale and has willows and Italian cypresses extending on either side so as to form nearly a circle round the tomb. There is a common paling surrounding this spot which seems to be under the care of an old colored woman who says she lived nearby in the days of Napoleon. She presented a slate which informed us that we must pay a certain price to gain admittance. We found this old woman very ready to tell us all she knew. Said she used to see Napoleon when he came there to walk; that she always said “good morning, Sir”, but that he never seemed to take any kind of notice of her. She said she would show us how he walked, and onward she strode with her little short, fat person.
She conducted us to the spring called Napoleon’s. It is said that he was very fond of this water and even carried a mug (silver as the old lady most particularly told us) when coming hither, that he might drink of the water. Toward the latter part of his life he would drink no other. Jars were sent here to be filled for his use. The old lady had tumblers and we all drank of the water which was indeed excellent.
The tomb is some 12 to 14 feet deep, I should think, has a railing round it, no covering, with the exception of a cloth thrown over the top. This was removed and we descended by a flight of wooden steps; beneath the steps is where the body lay. The large stone which covered the coffin was removed to France at the same time the body was taken there. Our attention was attracted to a paper hanging against the side of the vault. This contained the ridiculous effusion of some visitor. It was so excessively ridiculous and nonsensical that Mr. Taylor copied it. I also am enriched with a copy.
On ascending the steps, I found Mary and the old woman deep in conversation. “His head lay here, his feet there” were the first words that greeted my ears. During my visit below she had busied herself in picking bouquets for each from within the tomb enclosure, there being about a foot or two of earth on either side within the railing which is crowded with plants, mostly geranium. The old lady handed me a bouquet. “You can press these flowers and leaves in a book” said she “and then you can say that they came from the tomb of Napoleon”. We are cultivating the geranium in pots and I have pressed leaves and flowers both from the tomb, but whether from the advice of the good lady or if my own promptings is unnecessary to say, though I thank her just as much.
While in this beautiful and consecrated spot, I wished many times that I were going to spend a week at St. Helena and that I might visit this place many, many times; I liked to go and lean against the old willow tree that is either dead or dying and from there gaze around me. Certainly, the whole spot looked more lovely when seen from this old tree. I am sure it must have been Napoleon’s favorite resting place. This tree is situated toward the head of the grave, some few feet back. On either side of the grave there are two of the elegant Italian cypresses, also a number of willows. I felt reluctant and sad to leave this beautiful spot, but time passed quickly while here, and we had to take a farewell glance. We left the vale in the opposite direction from which we entered and walked some little distance to join our carriage. Our path wound up to the road above and the view, as we turned again, and again was exquisite.
On reaching the gate, a small and very dirty boy, with a
milk-and-molasses complexion, brought out to us a notice
pasted on a board, intimating that those who wished to see the residence of the Emperor Napoleon must pay two shillings
a-piece in advance; children half-price. A neat little English
woman of that uncertain age which made me hesitate to ask
her whether she had ever seen the Emperor, was in attendance,
to receive the fees and act as cicerone. We alighted at a small
green verandah, facing a wooden wing which projects from the
eastern front of the building. The first room we entered was
whitewashed, and covered all over with the names of visitors,
in charcoal, pencil, and red chalk. The greater part of them
were French. “This,” said the little woman, “was the Emperor’s
billiard-room, built after he came to live at Longwood.
The walls have three or four times been covered with names,
and whitewashed over.” A door at the further end admitted
us into the drawing-room, in which Napoleon died. The ceiling
was broken away, and dust and cobwebs covered the bare
rafters. The floor was half-decayed, almost invisible through
the dirt which covered it, and the plastering, falling off, disclosed
in many places the rough stone walls. A winnowing
mill and two or three other farming utensils, stood in the corners.
The window looked into a barn-yard filled with mud
and dung. Stretched on a sofa, with his head beside this window,
the great conqueror, the “modern Sesostris,” breathed his
last, amid the delirium of fancied battle and the howlings of a
storm which shook the island. The corner-stone of the jamb,
nearest which his head lay, has been quarried out of the wall,
and taken to France.
Beyond this was the dining-room, now a dark, dirty barn
floor, filled to the rafters with straw and refuse timbers. We
passed out into a cattle-yard, and entered the Emperor’s bed
room. A horse and three cows were comfortably stalled therein in, and the floor of mud and loose stones was covered with
dung and litter. “Here,” said the guide, pointing to an unusually
filthy stall in one corner, “was the Emperor’s bath
room. Mr. Solomon (a Jew in Jamestown) has the marble
bathing-tub he used. Yonder was his dressing room”—a big
brinded calf was munching some grass in the very spot—“and
here” (pointing to an old cow in the nearest corner) “his attendant
slept.” So miserable, so mournfully wretched was the
condition of the place, that I regretted not having been content
with an outside view of Longwood. On the other side of the
cattle-yard stands the houses which were inhabited by Count
Montholon, Las Casas, and Dr. O’Meara; but at present they
are shabby, tumble-down sheds, whose stone walls alone have
preserved their existence to this day. On the side facing
the sea, there are a few pine-trees, under which is a small
crescent-shaped fish-pond, dry and nearly filled with earth and
weeds. Here the Emperor used to sit and feed his tame fish.
The sky, overcast with clouds, and the cold wind which blew
steadily from the sea, added to the desolation of the place.
Passing through the garden, which is neglected, like the
house, and running to waste, we walked to the new building
erected by the Government for Napoleon’s use, but which he
never inhabited. It is a large quadrangle, one story high,
plain but commodious, and with some elegance in its arrangement.
It has been once or twice occupied as a residence, but
is now decaying from very neglect. Standing under the brow
of the hill, it is sheltered from the wind, and much more cheerful
in every respect than the old mansion. We were conducted
through the empty chambers, intended for billiard, dining,
drawing, and bed-rooms. In the bath-room, where yet stands the wooden case which enclosed the marble tub, a flock of
geese were luxuriating. The curtains which hung at the windows
were dropping to pieces from rot, and in many of the
rooms the plastering was cracked and mildewed by the leakage
of rains through the roof. Near the building is a neat cottage,
in which General Bertrand and his family formerly resided. It
is now occupied by the gentleman who leases the farm of Longwood
from the Government. The farm is the largest on the
island, containing one thousand acres, and is rented at £315 a
year. The uplands around the house are devoted to the raising
of oats and barley, but grazing is the principal source of
profit.
I plucked some branches of geranium and fragrant heliotrope
from the garden, and we set out on our return.
We sent the carriage on by the road, to await us on the other
side of the glen, and proceeded on foot to the Grave. The path
led down through a garden filled with roses and heliotropes.
The peach-trees were in blossom, and the tropical loqudt, which I had seen growing in India and China, hung full of ripe yellow
fruit. As we approached the little enclosure at the bottom of
the glen, I, who was in advance, was hailed by a voice crying
out, “This way, sir, this way!” and, looking down, saw at
the gate a diminutive, wrinkled, old, grizzly-headed, semi-negro,
semi-Portuguese woman, whom I at once recognized as the
custodienne of the tomb, from descriptions which the officers of
the Mississippi had given me.
At the gate of the enclosure hung a placard, calling upon
all visitors to pay, in advance, the sum of one shilling and six
pence each, before approaching the tomb. This touching testimony
of respect having been complied with, we were allowed
to draw near to the empty vault, which, for twenty
years, enshrined the corpse of Napoleon. It is merely an oblong
shaft of masonry, about twelve feet deep, and with a rude
roof thrown over the mouth, to prevent it being filled by the
rains. A little railing surrounds it, and the space between is
planted with geraniums and scarlet salvias. Two willows—one
of which has been so stripped by travellers, that nothing but the
trunk is left—shade the spot, and half-a-dozen monumental
cypresses lift their tall obelisks around. A flight of steps leads
to the bottom of the vault, where the bed of masonry which enclosed the coffin still remains. I descended to the lowest
step, and there found, hanging against the damp wall, a written
tablet stating that the old woman, then waiting for me at the
top, told an admirable and excellent story about the burial of
Napoleon, which travellers would do well to extract from her,
and that one shilling was but a fair compensation for the
pleasure she would afford them. If I had been saddened by the neglect of Longwood, I
was disgusted by the profanation of the tomb. Is there not
enough reverence in St. Helena, to prevent the grave which a
great name has hallowed, from being defiled with such abominable
doggerel? And there was the old woman, who, having
seen me read the notice, immediately commenced her admirable
and interesting story in this wise: “Six years he lived upon
the island. He came here in 1815, and he died in 1821. Six
years he lived upon the island. He was buried with his head
to the east. This is the east. His feet was to the west. This
is the west. Where you see that brown dirt, there was his
head. He wanted to be buried beside his wife Josephine;
but, as that couldn’t be done, he was put here. They put him
here because he used to come down here with a silver mug in
his pocket, and take a drink out of that spring. That’s the
reason he was buried here. There was a guard of a sargeant
and six men up there on the hill, all the time he was down here
a-drinkin’ out of the spring with his silver mug. This was the
way he walked.” Here the old woman folded her arms, tossed
back her grizzly head, and strode to and fro with so ludicrous an
attempt at dignity, that, in spite of myself, I was forced into
laughter. “Did you ever see him?” I asked. “Yes, Captain,”
said she, “I seed him a many a time, and I always said,
‘Good mornin,” Sir, but he never had no conversation with
me.” A draught of the cool and delicious lymph of Napoleon’s
Spring completed the farce. I broke a sprig from one
of the cypresses, wrote my name in the visitor’s book, took the
“boky” of gillyflowers and marigolds, which Dickey had collected,
and slowly re-mounted the opposite side of the glen.
My thoughts involuntarily turned from the desecrated grave to that fitting sepulchre where he now rests, under the banners of
a hundred victorious battle-fields, and guarded by the timeworn
remnant of his faithful Old Guard. Let Longwood be levelled
to the earth, and the empty grave be filled up and turfed over!
Better that these memorials of England’s treachery should be
seen no more!
LONGWOOD HOUSE
AND THE VALLEY OF THE TOMB
In 1858, hearing that Longwood House was in a terrible state of disrepair
(as Sarah and Bayard Taylor both described),
Napoleon III arranged for the French government to purchase
Longwood House and the Valley of the Tomb.
It is now a museum.
