e of annoyance was the resolution of Napoleon not upon any
terms to acknowledge himself a prisoner, and his refusal to submit to
such regulations as would render his captivity less burdensome. More
than once the attendance of an officer was offered to be discontinued if
he would allow himself to be seen once every day, and promise to take no
means of escaping. "If he were to give me the whole of the island," said
Napoleon, "on condition that I would pledge my word not to attempt an
escape, I would not accept it; because it would be equivalent to
acknowledging myself a prisoner, although at the same time I would not
make the attempt. I am here by force, and not by right. If I had been
taken at Waterloo perhaps I might have had no hesitation in accepting it,
although even in that case it would be contrary to the law of nations,
as now there is no war. If they were to offer me permission to reside in
England on similar conditions I would refuse it." The very idea of
exhibiting himself to an officer every day, though but for a moment, was
repelled with indignation. He even kept loaded pistols to shoot any
person who should attempt an intrusion on his privacy. It is stated in a
note in O'Meara's journal that "the Emperor was so firmly impressed with
the idea that an attempt would be made forcibly to intrude on his
privacy, that from a short time after the departure of Sir George
Cockburn he always kept four or five pairs of loaded pistols and some
swords in his apartment, with which he was determined to despatch the
first who entered against his will." It seems this practice was
continued to his death.

Napoleon continued to pass the mornings in dictating his Memoirs and the
evenings in reading or conversation. He grew fonder of Racine, but his
favourite was Corneille. He repeated that, had he lived in his time, he
would have made him a prince. He had a distaste to Voltaire, and found
considerable fault with his dramas, perhaps justly, as conveying opinions
rather than sentiments. He criticised his Mahomet, and said he had made
him merely an impostor and a tyrant, without representing him as a great
man. This was owing to Voltaire's religious and political antipathies;
for those who are free from common prejudices acquire others of their own
in their stead, to which they are equally bigoted, and which they bring
forward on all occasions. When the evening passed off in conversation
without having recourse to books he considere