By the way, talking of Napoleon’s flight from Egypt, did you ever see a curious little book called, if I remember right, “Intercepted Letters”?  No; I have no copy upon this shelf, but a friend is more fortunate.  It shows the almost incredible hatred which existed at the end of the eighteenth century between the two nations, descending even to the most petty personal annoyance.  On this occasion the British Government intercepted a mail-bag of letters coming from French officers in Egypt to their friends at home, and they either published them, or at least allowed them to be published, in the hope, no doubt, of causing domestic complications.  Was ever a more despicable action?  But who knows what other injuries had been inflicted to draw forth such a retaliation?  I have myself seen a burned and mutilated British mail lying where De Wet had left it; but suppose the refinement of his vengeance had gone so far as to publish it, what a thunder-bolt it might have been!

As to the French officers, I have read their letters, though even after a century one had a feeling of guilt when one did so.  But, on the whole, they are a credit to the writers, and give the impression of a noble and chivalrous set of men.  Whether they were all addressed to the right people is another matter, and therein lay the poisoned sting of this most un-British affair.  As to the monstrous things which were done upon the other side, remember the arrest of all the poor British tourists and commercials who chanced to be in France when the war was renewed in 1803.  They had run over in all trust and confidence for a little outing and change of air.  They certainly got it, for Napoleon’s steel grip fell upon them, and they rejoined their families in 1814.  He must have had a heart of adamant and a will of iron.  Look at his conduct over the naval prisoners.  The natural proceeding would have been to exchange them.  For some reason he did not think it good policy to do so.  All representations from the British Government were set aside, save in the case of the higher officers.  Hence the miseries of the hulks and the dreadful prison barracks in England.  Hence also the unhappy idlers of Verdun.  What splendid loyalty there must have been in those humble Frenchmen which never allowed them for one instant to turn bitterly upon the author of all their great misfortunes.  It is all brought vividly home by the description of their prisons given by Borrow in “Lavengro.”  This is the passage—­

“What a strange appearance had those mighty casernes, with their blank, blind walls, without windows or grating, and their slanting roofs, out of which, through orifices where the tiles had been removed, would be protruded dozens of grim heads, feasting their prison-sick eyes on the wide expanse of country unfolded from their airy height.  Ah! there was much misery in those casernes; and from those roofs, doubtless, many a wistful look was turned in the direction of lovely France.