"I hope not, _monsieur_; I hope that you will survive to record your great actions; they are so numerous that the task will ensure you a term of long life." Napoleon did not take offense at this simple appellation of _monsieur_; he revealed himself at that moment through his real greatness. Fortunately for himself, he never wrote his life; he would have lessened it: men of that nature must leave their Memoirs to be told by the unknown voice which belongs to nobody and which issues from the nations and the centuries. To us every-day people alone is it permitted to talk of ourselves, because nobody would talk of us. Captain Basil Hall[399] called at Longwood; Bonaparte remembered having seen the captain's father at Brienne: "Your father," he said, "was the first Englishman that I ever saw; and I have recollected him all my life on that account." He talked with the captain about the recent discovery of the island of Loo-Choo: "The inhabitants have no arms," said the captain. "No arms!" exclaimed Bonaparte. "That is to say no guns: they have muskets?" "Not even muskets." "Well, then, spears, or at least, bows and arrows?" "Neither one nor other." "Nor daggers?" "No, none." "But, without arms, how can one fight?" Captain Hall illustrated their ignorance with respect to all the world, by saying they knew nothing of France and England, and never had even heard of His Majesty. Bonaparte smiled in a way which struck the captain: the more serious the countenance, the more beautiful the smile. Those different travellers remarked that not the least trace of colour appeared in Bonaparte's cheeks: his head resembled a marble bust whose whiteness had been slightly yellowed by time. Not the smallest trace of a wrinkle was discernible on his brow, nor an approach to a furrow on any part of his countenance; his mind seemed at ease. This apparent calm gave rise to the belief that the flame of his genius had taken flight. His manner of speaking was slow; his expression was benignant and almost kindly; sometimes he would dart forth dazzling glances, but that state soon passed: his eyes became veiled and sad. [Sidenote: Napoleon at St. Helena.] Ah, other travellers known to Napoleon had, in former days, appeared upon those shores! After the explosion of the infernal machine[400], a senatus-consultus of the 4th of January 1801 decreed, without trial, by a simple police-order, the exile beyond-seas of one hundred and thirty Republicans: put on board the frigate _Chiffonne_ and the corvette _Flèche_, they were taken to the Seychelle Islands and dispersed shortly afterwards in the archipelago of the Comores, between Africa and Madagascar: they nearly all died there. Two of the men transported, Lefranc and Saunois, having succeeded in escaping on board an American ship, touched at St. Helena in 1803: there, twelve years later, Providence was to imprison their great oppressor.