Soon after the arrival of the priests Napoleon determined, we may suppose partly in jest, to elevate one of them to the dignity of bishop, and he chose for a diocese the Jumna.  “The last box brought from Europe had been broken open,” says Antommarchi; “it contained the vases and church ornaments.  “Stop,” said Napoleon, “this is the property of St. Peter; have a care who touches it; send for the abbes—­but talking of the abbes, do you know that the Cardinal [Fesch] is a poor creature?  He sends me missionaries and propagandists, as if I were a penitent, and as if a whole string of their Eminences had not always attended at my chapel.  I will do what he ought to have done; I possess the right of investiture, and I shall use it.”  Abbe Buonavita was just entering the room, “’I give you the episcopal mitre.’—­’Sire!’—­’I restore it to you; you shall wear it in spite of the heretics; they will not again take it from you.’—­ ’But, Sire!’—­’I cannot add to it so rich a benefice as that of Valencia, which Suchet had given you, but at any rate your see shall be secure from the chances of battles.  I appoint you Bishop of—­let me see—­of the Jumna.  The vast countries through which that river flows were on the point of entering into alliance with me—­all was in readiness, all were going to march.  We were about to give the finishing blow to England.”  The speech concluded with an order to Count Montholon to procure the necessary dress for the abbe in order to strike with awe all the heretics.  The upshot of the whole was, that the scarlet and violet coloured clothes necessary to furnish the new bishop with the only valuable portion of his temporalities, his dress, could not be procured in the island, and the abbe remained an abbe in spite of the investiture, and the whole farce was forgotten.

We occasionally see the Exile in better moods, when he listened to the voice of reason, and thought less of the annoyances inseparable from the state to which his ambition, or as he himself always averred, his destiny, had reduced him.  He had for a long time debarred himself from all exercise, having, as he expressed it, determined not to expose himself to the insult of being accompanied on his ride by a British officer; or the possibility of being challenged by a sentinel.  One day when he complained of his inactive life his medical attendant recommended the exercise of digging the ground; the idea was instantly seized upon by Napoleon with his characteristic ardour.  Noverraz, his chasseur, who had been formerly accustomed to rural occupations, was honoured with the title of head gardener, and under his directions Napoleon proceeded to work with great vigour.  He sent for Antommarchi to witness his newly acquired dexterity in the use of the spade.  “Well, Doctor,” said he to him, “are you satisfied with your patient—­is he obedient enough?  This is better than your pills, Dottoraccio; you shall not physic me any more.”  At first he soon got fatigued, and complained much of the weakness of his