There were moments, however, in which Napoleon appeared, to persons likely to influence public feeling in Europe by their reports, in attitudes of a far different description.  When strangers of eminence (generally officers on their way to or from India), halting at St. Helena, requested and obtained permission to pay their respects at Longwood, Napoleon received them, for the most part, with the ease and dignity of a man superior to adversity.  It was by these worthier exhibitions that the fallen Emperor earned the lofty eulogy of Byron: 

“—­Well thy soul hath brooked the turning tide, With that untaught innate philosophy, Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride, Is gall and wormwood to an enemy.  When the whole host of hatred stood hard by, To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hast smiled With a sedate and all-enduring eye; When Fortune fled her spoiled and favourite child, He stood unbowed beneath the ills upon him piled.”

Among the visitors now alluded to was Captain Basil Hall:  and he has, perhaps, presented the world with the most graphic sketch of Napoleon as he appeared on such occasions at Longwood.  “Buonaparte” (says this traveller) “struck me (Aug. 13, 1817) as differing considerably from all the pictures and busts I had seen of him.  His face and figure looked much broader and more square—­larger, indeed, in every way, than any representation I had met with.  His corpulency, at this time reported to be excessive, was by no means remarkable.  His flesh looked, on the contrary, firm and muscular.  There was not the least trace of colour in his cheeks; in fact, his skin was more like marble than ordinary flesh.  Not the smallest wrinkle was discernible on his brow, nor an approach to a furrow on any part of his countenance.  His health and spirits, judging from appearances, were excellent; though, at this period, it was generally believed in England that he was fast sinking under a complication of diseases, and that his spirits were entirely gone.  His manner of speaking was rather slow than otherwise, and perfectly distinct:  and he waited with great patience and kindness for my answers to his questions.  The brilliant and sometimes dazzling expression of his eye could not be overlooked.  It was not, however, a permanent lustre, for it was only remarkable when he was excited by some point of particular interest.  It is impossible to imagine an expression of more entire mildness, I may almost call it of benignity and kindliness, than that which played over his features during the whole interview.  If, therefore, he was at this time out of health and in low spirits, his power of self-command must have been even more extraordinary than is generally supposed; for his whole deportment, his conversation, and the expression of his face, indicated a frame in perfect health, and a mind at ease.”

These favourable reports from seemingly impartial witnesses, lent new wings to the tale of Sir Hudson Lowe’s oppression; and perhaps the exile of St. Helena continued to fill a larger space in the eye of the world at large, than had ever before fallen to the lot of one removed for ever, to all appearance, from the great theatre of human passions.  It was then that Lord Byron thus apostrophised him: