The willows show evident symptoms of age. They seem to be getting more and more thin of branches. Since a visit I made to this spot, in February, 1831, another of the trees has perished, although the trunk still remains erect in its place. Thus, of five trees (the original number) only three now remain: their age is about thirty-five years; they were planted by Mr. Tarbut, a resident at St. Helena, and former possessor of the spot we were now visiting. A number of slips from the old trees have been planted on the opposite side of the grave, and being in a flourishing condition[83] on the death of the old trees, the stock will be perpetuated by the young ones. There are also several cypresses planted in the inclosure, with every appearance of becoming handsome trees. On entering a wicket-gate, a short path leads to a paling, inclosing a green lawn, in which, surrounded by a plain cast-iron railing, is the vault in which the body of Napoleon, arrayed in full uniform, is deposited, inclosed in four coffins. The vault is extensive, and covered by three plain Portland stones taken from the kitchen of the new house at Longwood,[84] and cemented together. An order from the town-major enables strangers to enter the inclosure, procure slips of the willow, and, one of the cast-iron railings surrounding the vault being broken, either accidentally or on purpose, the attendant will permit visitors to enter and tread over him now dead, who, when living, trod on the necks of monarchs. Should there be visitors of both the French and English nations at the sepulchre of Napoleon, it is interesting to observe the feelings produced in the minds of both: the first regarding the spot as both sacred and classic, by the presence of the mortal remains of one, the former ruler of their nation, and who, under the revolutionary flag, had gained so many laurels, which it was his fate to lose at Waterloo, against an allied army. He then found himself a voluntary prisoner, on board one of those British ships of war, which had, under the proud banner of Britain, cleared the ocean of his ships, and he at last died an exile on the rock of St. Helena. This affords a fine lesson to posterity, of a great genius, who having elevated himself to be the ruler of a powerful nation, fell, and died in captivity, through his over-ambition. The French shed tears on visiting the grave of their beloved emperor; and the album, kept at the tomb for the reception of the names and tributary effusions of the visitors gives ample evidence of the feelings which a visit to this spot produces in their minds, and displays the characteristic fervor of the nation.[85]