countesses and some children; and twelve upper domestics of the imperial household followed their master’s fortune.  Of the money which Napoleon had with him, to the amount of some L4000, the British government took possession, pro tempore, announcing that they charged themselves with providing regularly for all the expenditure of his establishment; but his plate, chiefly gold and of much value, was permitted to remain untouched.

On the 8th of August the Northumberland sailed for St. Helena, and the exile had his first view of his destined retreat on the 15th of October, 1815.  During the voyage, Sir George Cockburn departed from some observances of respect into which Captain Maitland had very naturally fallen, under very different circumstances.  The admiral, in a word, did not permit Napoleon to assume the first place on board the Northumberland.  He did the honours of the table himself; nor did he think it necessary to break up his company immediately after dinner, because the ex-emperor chose to rise then—­in adherence to the custom of French society:  neither did he man his yards or fire salutes on any occasion, as is done in the case of crowned heads, nor follow the example of the French suite in remaining at all times uncovered in the presence of Napoleon.  With these exceptions, General Buonaparte was treated with all the respect which great genius and great misfortunes could claim from a generous mind; nor was he on the whole insensible to the excellent conduct either of Maitland or of Cockburn.  Cruelly and most unjustly attacked, as the former had been, by Las Cazes and Savary—­and by Napoleon—­when the captain of the Bellerophon comes to record his final sentiments towards his prisoner, it is in these affecting words—­“It may appear surprising that a possibility should exist of a British officer being prejudiced in favour of one who had caused so many calamities to his country; but to such an extent did he possess the power of pleasing, that there are few people who could have sat at the same table with him for nearly a month, as I did, without feeling a sensation of pity, perhaps allied to regret, that a man possessed of so many fascinating qualities, and who had held so high a station in life, should be reduced to the situation in which I saw him.”

To the extraordinary power of fascination which Napoleon had at command, a still more striking testimony occurs in an anecdote, apparently well authenticated, of Lord Keith.  When someone alluded in this old admiral’s hearing to Buonaparte’s repeated request of a personal interview with the Prince Regent, “On my conscience,” said Lord Keith, “I believe, if you consent to that, they will be excellent friends within half an hour.”

CHAPTER XLII