ST. HELENA.

A fresh north-east monsoon expedited our voyage, and we cut the equator on the 21st of January, in the longitude 253° 38'; then passing between the islands of Sumatra and Java, we reached the ocean, after having safely traversed the Chinese Sea from its northern to its southern boundary, and directed our course towards the Cape of Good Hope, where we intended staying to refresh. When we had reached to longitude 256°, 12° south latitude, the east wind, contrary to all rules at this season, changed for a westerly one, and blew a strong gale; the sky was covered with black clouds, and the rain fell in torrents. At midnight, while the storm was still raging, and the darkness complete, we witnessed the phenomenon known by the name of Castor and Pollux, and which originates in the electricity of the atmosphere; these were two bright balls of the size which the planet Venus appears to us, and of the same clear light; we saw them at two distinct periods, which followed quickly upon each other in the same place, that is, some inches below the extreme point of our main-yard, and at about half a foot distance asunder. Their appearance lasted some minutes, and made a great impression on the crew, who did not understand its cause. I must confess, that in the utter darkness, amidst the howling of the storm and the roaring of the water, there was something awful in the sight.

Our passage was rendered tedious by contrary winds. On the 22nd of February, we crossed the meridian of the Isle of France, three hundred and forty miles off the island, in very stormy weather, and heard afterwards at St. Helena, that a hurricane raged at this time near the Isle of France, causing great damage to many vessels, and to some of them the loss of their masts. We should have probably shared in this danger had we been a hundred miles nearer the coast. I must here recommend every navigator, if possible, to keep clear of the two isles of France and Bourbon, from the middle of January till the middle of March, as, during that season, violent hurricanes continually rage there, which are very destructive even on shore.

On the following day we passed the large frigate Bombay, belonging to the English East India Company, having on board, as passengers, the Governor of Batavia, Baron vander Kapellen, and his lady, with whom we afterwards had the pleasure of forming an acquaintance in St. Helena. On the 15th of March we doubled the Cape of Good Hope. It had been my intention to anchor in Table Bay, but a storm from the north-west came just in time to remind us how dangerous the bay is at this season, and we prosecuted our voyage to St. Helena. On the 25th of the same month, having traversed 360 degrees of longitude from east to west, we had lost a day, and were therefore compelled to change our Friday into a Saturday.

On the 29th we anchored at St. Helena, before the little town of St. James, the whole crew being cheerful and healthy; but our spirits were soon damped by the news of the death of the Emperor Alexander, which we now received. I must here not omit to express my most cordial thanks to the Governor of St. Helena, for his very kind reception of myself and companions, and for his constant endeavours to make our stay on the island agreeable; he gave dinners and balls for our entertainment, and was always ready to comply with our wishes; hence he granted us what it is usually difficult to obtain—permission to visit the celebrated estate of Longwood, where Napoleon closed his splendid career, in powerless and desolate loneliness. We rode thither one fine morning, on horseback. The little town of St. James lies in a ravine between two high, steep, barren lava-rocks; its pleasant situation and cheerful aspect presenting a striking contrast with the gloom of its immediate environs. By a serpentine road cut through the rock, we climbed an ascent, by nature inaccessible; this path, in some parts not three fathoms in breadth, is bounded on one side by the perpendicular rock, and on the other overlooks an abrupt precipice, from which however it is defended by a strong stone balustrade, so that however fearful in appearance, its only real danger lies in an accident which sometimes happens, that large fragments detach themselves from the superincumbent rock, and roll down the precipice, carrying before them every thing that might obstruct their passage to the bottom.

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.

We were invited to dinner by one of the richest land proprietors of the island, who, although considerably more than seventy years old, still retained the animation and vigour of youth. This intelligent and well-educated man had never, till his sixty-ninth year, left his beautiful home, except for an occasional and short visit to the town. Through the medium of books, and conversation with the strangers visiting St. Helena, he was well versed in the customs and localities of Europe, and felt the highest respect for the perfection to which the arts and sciences of civilized life had been carried in that quarter of the world, but without experiencing any desire to see it; suddenly, however, at this advanced period of his life, curiosity got the better of his love of ease; his wish to become personally and more accurately acquainted with the much-praised institutions, and the wonderful capital of England, was no longer to be repressed, and he determined to undertake the voyage. On landing in London, he was, as he expressed himself, astonished and dazzled by the extent and magnificence of the city. The throng in the streets, which he compared to ant-hills, far exceeded the ideas he had formed; he visited the manufactories, and observed with wonder the perfection of their machinery; the theatres enchanted him, and the succession of new sights and impressions produced an effect resembling a perpetual intoxication. After a time, however, he experienced the fatigue incident to an extreme tension of mind, and began to sigh for the calm retirement of Sandy Bay, to which he took the first opportunity of returning, never to leave it more.

We passed nine very agreeable days at St. Helena, and shall always retain the liveliest remembrance of the kindness shown us by its amiable inhabitants. My crew, though healthy, had in some degree suffered from the effects of a nearly three years' voyage, and I was anxious during our stay here to strengthen them by a regimen of fresh provisions, (which, however, are very dear upon the island,) particularly as we had again to cross the line, and that in a region often considered unhealthy.

On the 7th of April we sailed from St. Helena, and cut the equator on the 16th in the longitude 22° 37'. Here, delayed by calms, and oppressed by the heat and damps, notwithstanding all my precautions, a nervous fever broke out among the men; and, after having escaped so many dangers, we began to apprehend a melancholy conclusion to our voyage.

This misfortune had probably been communicated to us by contagion. The homeward-bound ships of the English East India Company, which almost all touch at St. Helena, having nothing in view but a quick passage, and the profit resulting from it, do not generally, as I have myself had opportunities of observing, pay that proper attention to cleanliness and wholesome diet which is absolutely necessary to health. During our residence at St. Helena, several of these ships were lying in the roads with sick on board. It is true that, according to a standing order, no vessel is allowed anchorage there till a surgeon has examined into the state of health of her crew; but the captains find means to evade the investigation, and thus are the healthy liable to become infected by association with the diseased.

Half our crew lay sick, and our skilful and active surgeon was unfortunately of the number. A favouring gale, however, sprang up, which carried us into a cooler and drier climate, our invalids quickly recovered, and we escaped with the loss of one sailor only. By the 12th of March, when we passed the Azore Islands, the crew was again in perfect health. On the 3rd of June we reached Portsmouth, where we stopped some days. On the 29th we touched at Copenhagen, and on the 10th of July joyfully dropped our anchor in the roads of Cronstadt, from whence we had sailed nearly three years before.

If my readers have by this time become sufficiently acquainted with me to interest themselves in my affairs, they will not learn with indifference, that my most gracious Sovereign the Emperor has honoured me by the most condescending testimonials of his satisfaction, and that after our long separation, I had the gratification of finding my wife and children well and happy.

APPENDIX.