Having with some difficulty reached the highest ground on the island, we found the tropical heat changed into a refreshing coolness, and enjoyed an extensive prospect over the island, which presented a totally different aspect from that under which it is viewed by passing vessels. The sailor sees only high, black, jagged, and desolate rocks, rising perpendicularly from the sea, and every where washed by a tremendous surf, prohibiting all attempts to land except at the single point of St. James: his eye vainly seeks round the adamant wall, the relief of one sprig of green; not a trace of vegetation appears, and Nature herself seems to have destined the spot for a gloomy and infrangible prison. From these heights, on the contrary, the picturesque and smiling landscape of the interior forms the most striking contrast to its external sternness, and suggests the idea of a gifted mind, compelled by painful experience to shroud its charms under a forbidding veil of coldness and reserve.
This remark only, however, applies to the western part of the island, which is protected from the trade-wind. The higher eastern part, where Napoleon lived, is as dead and barren as its rocky boundary. The trade-wind to which this district is constantly exposed, brings a perpetual fog, and drives the clouds in congregated heaps to the summits of the mountain, where they frequently burst in sudden and violent showers, often producing inundations, and rendering the air damp and unwholesome for the greater part of the year. The ground is for this reason incapable of cultivation; and a species of gum-tree, the only one to be seen in the neighbourhood of Longwood, by its stunted growth of hardly six feet, and its universal bend in one direction, proves how destructive is the effect of the trade-wind to all vegetable life. The nearer we approached the boundaries of the circle within which alone the renowned prisoner was permitted to move, the less pleasant became the country and the more raw the climate, till about a German mile from the town we found ourselves on the barren spot I have already described. Here a narrow path leads down an abrupt descent into a small valley, or basin, surrounded by hills, sheltered from the wind, and offering in its verdant foliage and cheerful vegetation, a refreshing and agreeable retreat. "There rest the remains of Napoleon," said the guide given us by the governor. We dismounted, and proceeded to the grave on foot. An old invalid who watches it, and lives in a lonely hut in its vicinity, now came towards us, and conducted us to a flat, tasteless grave-stone surrounded by an iron railing, and shaded by fine willows, planted probably by the last dependents of the unfortunate prisoner. It is a melancholy thing to tread this simple grave of him who once shook all Europe with his name, and here at last closed his too eventful life on a lonely rock in a distant ocean. The stone bears no inscription, but all who behold it may imagine one. Posterity alone can pronounce a correct judgment on the man who so powerfully influenced the destinies of nations. Honesty may perhaps have been the only quality wanting to have made him the greatest man of his age.
The invalid filled a common earthen jug with clear delicious water from a neighbouring spring, and handed it to us with the remark, that Napoleon, in his walks hither, was accustomed to refresh himself with cold water from the same vessel. This little valley being the only spot where he could breathe a wholesome air, and enjoy the country, he often visited it, and once expressed a wish that he might be buried there. Little as his wishes were usually attended to, this was fulfilled.
After spending some time in contemplating this remarkable memorial of the vicissitudes of fortune, we inscribed our names in a book kept for the purpose, and again mounting our horses, rode to what had formerly been the abode of the deceased; where, deprived of all power, the deposed Emperor to the last permitted the voluntary companions of his exile to address him by the titles of "Sire," and "Your Majesty." On quitting the garden scenery of the pretty little valley, the country resumed its dreary and sterile character. A ride of about a German mile through this inhospitable region, uncheered either by the fragrance of flowers or the melody of birds, brought us within sight of an inconsiderable level, or table land, perfectly barren, crowning the summit of one of the highest hillocks into which this huge rock is divided. In the centre of the plain, and enveloped in so thick a fog that it was scarcely perceptible, stood a small unpretending mansion. "That," said our guide, "is Longwood, late the residence of Napoleon." We soon reached the house, expecting to find it as left at the death of its illustrious occupant; with how much interest should we not have visited it, if nothing had been changed or removed! But the English authorities had not taken our gratification into their consideration. The house is divided into two distinct portions; the smaller half, or Napoleon's sleeping apartment, has been converted into a stable, and the larger into a warehouse for sheep-skins, fat, and other produce of the island.
We had been informed that Napoleon had laid out a little garden near his dwelling, in which he often worked, assisted by Madame Bertrand; and, after many fruitless attempts, had been at length rewarded by the blossoming of a few hardy flowers, and the successful plantation of some young oaks; that one of the latter was set by the hand of Napoleon himself, another by that of Madame Bertrand.
As we could see nothing resembling a garden, I enquired of our guide where it lay; he pointed, with a sarcastic smile, to a spot which had been routed up by hogs, saying, "Here Napoleon was as successful in rearing flowers as he had once been in founding empires, and both have equally vanished." Some oaks are still standing beside a broken hedge, but whether planted by Napoleon or not, no one can tell. We were also shown a pretty house, which had been built for Napoleon by the King's command, but which was not complete till a very short time before his death. Though much better and more convenient than the one he inhabited, he never could be induced to remove to it; perhaps already conscious of the approach of death, he felt no farther concern for the accommodations of life.
Strongly contrasted with the gloom and sterility of Longwood, is the summer residence of the Governor of St. Helena, lying on Sandy Bay, on the western shore of the island, and about half a German mile from the town. In this beautiful and healthful climate, every tropical plant flourishes in the greatest luxuriance. We were hospitably received at Plantation-house, a handsome, spacious, and convenient building, surrounded by an extensive park. In this delightful spot nature and art have combined at once to charm and to surprise; yet while breathing its pure and fragrant air, would our thoughts unconsciously revert with sympathy to the melancholy fate of the exile of Longwood.
The environs of Sandy Bay would be a perfect little Switzerland, but that the glaciers are wanting to complete the resemblance. Scattered amongst the enormous masses of rock which lie confusedly heaped upon each other, a frightful wilderness and most smilingly picturesque landscape alternately present their contrasted images to the eye. Such are the traits which the hand of Nature has impressed upon the scenery in this fortunate portion of the island; while that of man, busily engaged in adding to her charms, and in correcting her ruggedness, throws an appearance of life, comfort, and civilization over the picture. Convenient roads wind up the steep ascents, and frequent openings in the cliff, present vistas of fruitful fields, tastefully built mansions surrounded by parks and plantations, and snug farm-houses embosomed in their pretty gardens. Every thing bespeaks industry and comfort. The inhabitants are all well-dressed, healthy, and contented.
Of their hospitality we had the most agreeable evidences. Invited with friendly cordiality into their houses, we were entertained with the best they had, and with the kindest expressions of pleasure in welcoming the first Russians who had ever visited their country.