The same afternoon, Lord Keith and Sir George Cockburn proceeded in the admiral’s yacht to the Bellerophon. Napoleon was on deck to receive them. After the usual salutations, Lord Keith addressed himself to Bonaparte, and acquainted him with his intended transfer to the Northumberland for passage to St Helena. After much expostulation, Napoleon finally refused to go; but upon Lord Keith expressing the hope that no coercion would be necessary to carry out the orders of government, he replied: ‘O no, no! you command, I must obey! Only, recollect, I do not go of my own free-will.’ He then formally handed to Lord Keith a written protest against his transportation to St Helena, in which it was contended, that having come voluntarily on board the Bellerophon, he was the guest and not the prisoner of England. ‘I appeal,’ he concluded, ‘to history, whether an enemy who comes deliberately in his misfortunes to seek an asylum under the protection of English law, can give a more convincing proof of his esteem and confidence. But how have the English answered such confidence and magnanimity; they pretended to extend a friendly hand to this enemy; and when he relied on their good faith, they sacrificed him.’
It was afterwards arranged that the transfer should take place the following morning (Monday) about eleven o’clock. Early next day, Sir George Cockburn superintended the inspection of the baggage, consisting of services and toilet sets of plate, several articles in gold, books, beds, &c., which were sent on board the Northumberland, four thousand gold napoleons being sealed up and detained. The baggage having been removed, the parting scene commenced, Napoleon handing to several of his officers a certificate of fidelity and good service. About eleven o’clock, the barge of the Tonnant proceeded to the Bellerophon to receive the fallen Emperor and those who were to be the partakers of his exile: General and Madame Bertrand with their children, Count and Countess Montholon and child, Count Las Cases, General Gourgaud, nine men and three women servants. At the last moment, Napoleon’s surgeon refused to accompany him, whereupon the surgeon of the Bellerophon, Mr O’Meara, consented to supply his place. Shortly afterwards O’Meara was offered a salary of five hundred pounds per annum, but this he rejected, with the remark that the pay of his king was sufficient to satisfy him.
Before entering the barge which was to convey him to the Northumberland, Bonaparte addressed himself to Captain Maitland and the officers of the Bellerophon, not forgetting to take off his hat to them again after descending the ladder into the barge. It was about noon on the 7th of August when the barge of the Tonnant approached the starboard side of the Northumberland. Bertrand was the first to go over the side, and standing with his hat off, upright as a sentinel, announced his master. Napoleon instantly followed, and taking off his hat, remarked to Sir George Cockburn, who received him: ‘Monsieur, je suis à vos ordres.’ At once moving forward on the quarter-deck, he desired to be introduced to Captain Ross, who commanded the ship, a ceremony which was immediately performed, the guard of marines, drawn up on the port side, receiving the ex-Emperor with the compliment due to his rank as a general officer. To Lord Lowther and Mr Lyttleton, who stood near the admiral, Napoleon bowed and spoke a few words, remarking also to an artillery officer who was by, that he himself had originally served in that arm. The introduction to the eight lieutenants of the ship, not one of whom could speak a single word of French, was sufficiently ridiculous; they were drawn up in line on one side of the cabin; and after gazing and smiling for a moment on Napoleon, who, in his turn, gazed and smiled at them, they bowed and defiled before him out of the cabin door. The after-cabin on board the Northumberland was not, as on the Bellerophon, the private room wherein Napoleon was not to be intruded upon by any unbidden guest, but was shared equally by the admiral and his friends; a small cabin being besides appropriated for the sole accommodation of the ex-Emperor, and elegantly furnished, the toilet being of silver, and the bed linen of exquisite fineness. The party were also permitted to supply themselves from shore with any articles they might desire wherewith to add to their comfort and amusement, a permission of which they availed themselves by purchasing a billiard-table, an immense supply of playing-cards, chessmen, &c., besides a number of the best books in the English language.
After waiting for the Weymouth storeship and some other vessels destined to complete the miniature squadron, the whole finally sailed out of Tor Bay on Friday the 11th of August; and Napoleon passed away from the shores of Europe to end his days in exile on a solitary rock in the Atlantic.
GEORGE HANNAY’S LOVE AFFAIR.
CHAPTER IV.—DISENCHANTMENT.
Fortune seemed to smile on Alfred’s London enterprise. He called personally on the editors of several of the society magazines and journals. ‘A Summer Ramble in Kirkcudbright’ was now in all the glory of print; and when he assured the editors that he was really the ‘Ariel’ who penned the sketch, he found them willing, nay, anxious to look over the manuscripts he left with them. The letter from the Olympic accepting the manuscript and inclosing so handsome an honorarium was of great help to him. Mr Hannay had a reputation for ‘discovering’ talent, and his protégés hardly ever failed in taking some rank in the profession. He got four or five accepted at fairly remunerative prices. Then he was proposed at a minor literary club, and passed the ballot. As a new contributor to the Olympic, he ranked well there among his brother scribes, who looked on him as a rising man, and one whose good opinion was worth courting. These new friends indeed treated him with great cordiality, and made him as one of themselves; some even going the length of borrowing from him small sums of money.
Nor was this all. One of the members, the sub-editor of a Sunday paper, volunteered to introduce him to London ‘society.’ Behold our friend, then, at a grand reception at Mrs Judson’s. This lady was the widow of a wealthy London pawnbroker (financial agent she preferred the lost one to be called). Her sole ambition in life was to secure a following of literary ‘stars,’ even if they were of infinitesimal magnitude; and in her circle, ‘Ariel’ appeared as one of the first. His handsome figure and genial manners constituted him a great favourite with the ladies; and his presence was eagerly sought for at all these little reunions which compose the ‘fringe’ of London literary and artistic society. He found this kind of life both pleasant and profitable; for he was brought in contact with many editors and proprietors of third and fourth rate periodicals, and was able to dispose of half his rejected manuscripts among them, with fairly satisfactory pecuniary results to himself.
His banker now held one or two hundred pounds to his credit, and he began to look upon the success of his literary venture as un fait accompli. There was just one little thing that annoyed him: his newly found literary friends were extremely solicitous to know when his further productions would appear in the Olympic. This was a poser, for he had not the least idea himself. He got out of the difficulty, however, by saying that the principal editor being on the continent, there would be nothing definitely arranged until his return. As will be remembered, Nan’s restrictions did not prevent him from contributing to the Olympic in his own name; so, immediately after his arrival in London, he set to work and wrote a sketch called ‘Student Life in Brussels.’ The manuscript was duly sent, and duly returned in a few days with a printed note indicating the editor’s regret at being unable to make use of the paper. This was discouraging; but then he reflected that taste in literary things was very fickle; so he wrote a heavy article on Fair Trade, and sent it on; but the result was the same.
About this time, he heard that Mr Hannay had gone to St Petersburg with a friend to enjoy the winter festivities of the gay northern capital. As he was not expected home for two or three months, Alfred had a good excuse till then for the non-appearance of any further work of his in the Olympic. In the meantime he gave himself up to the charming gaieties and pleasant little dissipations of the circle that had made quite a lion of him. He rather liked the homage these people paid him; true, they were mentally his inferiors, he thought; but then they had money, position, and influence, and might be made useful to him in the future. He began to think—sometimes with a feeling bordering on regret—of his engagement to the innkeeper’s daughter. How much better he could do now, if he were free! However, he would be true to his engagement. Only, Nan must be reasonable, and wait; at the end of two or three years, when his name was famous and his position thoroughly assured, he would marry her. To do so now would be extremely prejudicial to his interests, and must not be thought of for a moment. O no; she must wait patiently till it suited his convenience; and wouldn’t she gladly do so? Of course, for wasn’t the girl madly in love with him?