At Rochefort his brother Joseph offered to disguise himself and change places with him, so that the Emperor might get away in the same vessel in which he himself was preparing to escape. Had Napoleon agreed to this plan, he would probably have been as successful as Joseph in reaching America.
Some young and brave French officers are said to have offered themselves as the crew of a rowing boat to carry Napoleon safely through the blockading fleet. There would have been some risk in carrying out this proposal of stealing through the blockade, but it had a fair chance of success.
There were also swift neutral vessels not far away, on more than one of which he had friends. But although, with three of his suite, he did embark on a Danish ship, on second thoughts he decided not to venture farther, and returned to shore. He might have accepted the suggestion of the captain of a French frigate then at the Ile d'Aix, who begged Napoleon to take the chance of intrusting himself to him. He would, he said, attack a British ship near by, and while the attention of other vessels was fixed on the encounter, a second French frigate with Napoleon on board would carry him far outside the harbor to safety. But this offer, too, was put aside. The admirers of Napoleon, who look back on his days of indecision at Rochefort, wonder at the change in the man, who by his policy of delay brought on himself his sad exile on the barren island.
Yet it is easy to see that even though half willing to try flight, Napoleon really could not bring himself to the position of a fugitive, afraid to face his enemies. It was nobler to confront danger, as he had confronted it often on the battlefield. It was not strange that he should hope to find appreciation of his courage, even in the hearts of his enemies.
It was the fifteenth of July when Napoleon embarked on theBellerophon, and a week afterwards he was in Plymouth Harbor. Too late, to his great consternation, he found that the British regarded him as a prisoner. He was helpless; he had no weapons but words, for armed vessels surrounded him and the few friends who followed him counted for nothing against his foes.
On the thirtieth of July, General Bonaparte—the British refused him the title of Emperor—was notified that the British Government had chosen St. Helena as his future residence, whither a limited number of his friends might accompany him. On receiving this word, Napoleon's indignation was loudly expressed. He replied, that he was not the prisoner, but the guest of England, and that it was an outrage against him to condemn him to exile into which he would not willingly go. It was at once evident, however, that, willing or unwilling, he must embark for his distant prison. From Plymouth he was taken to Torbay, where, on the eleventh of August, theBellerophonmet theNorthumberland, on which the illustrious prisoner was to be taken to St. Helena.
When Napoleon received Lord Keith and Sir George Cockburn on the deck of theBellerophonhe wore a green coat with red facings, epaulets, white waistcoat and breeches, silk stockings, the star of the Legion of Honor, and achapeau griswith the tricolored cockade. At first the Emperor spoke bitterly of the action of the British Government, but at last he abruptly asked Lord Keith for his advice. The latter replied it would be best for Napoleon to submit with good grace. Napoleon then agreed to go on board theNorthumberlandat ten the next morning. Later he recalled his consent and again talked bitterly of his fate, but at last he controlled himself and agreed to submit.
The next day, after all the stores and provisions and the personal belongings of Napoleon and his suite were on board, theNorthumberland, with its distinguished prisoner, set sail for St. Helena.
With Napoleon went a fairly large suite, consisting of the following persons:
Grand Mareschal Comte de Bertrand, Madame de Bertrand and three children, one woman servant and her child, one man servant; General Comte de Montholon, Madame de Montholon and a child, one woman servant; Comte de las Cases and his son of thirteen; General Gorgaud; threevalets de chambreand three footmen, a cook, alampiste, an usher, a steward,chef d'office.
Among the things that made up the rather large store of baggage that Napoleon took with him to St. Helena, besides his clothing and more personal belongings, were two table services of silver, a number of articles of gold, a beautiful toilet service of silver, including water basin and ewer, cases of books, and his special beds. Although money could do little for him in his new home, since all his expenses would be met by the British Government, it is known that he had with him a large amount of money.
It is useless now to discuss what would have been the result had his enemies been kinder to Napoleon. If he had been permitted to settle down in England as he wished, as a country gentleman, would this have satisfied him? Even if he had made no attempt to recover the throne of France for himself, might he not have put forth efforts to have his son acknowledged Emperor? At the time of his father's downfall, the little King of Rome was hardly more than a baby, but as years passed on he could never have lived contentedly with his grandfather, the Austrian Emperor, knowing that his father was as near as England. In the name of the young Napoleon, Europe might again have been plunged into a great war.
Yet, without looking toward the future, Great Britain was only too sure that the time had come to punish one who had always been the avowed enemy of England. It is true that England had suffered less than any other of the Powers at the hands of Napoleon, because he had never invaded her territory, but in no country was Napoleon so hated. Thousands of Englishmen had shed their blood in the wars carried on against him by the Allies, and by the mass of the English people he was regarded as a monster. Although the so-called Napoleonic wars had their origin in causes that Napoleon could not have controlled, he was regarded as the one being responsible for the twenty years' upheaval in Europe.
When it was announced that the British Cabinet had decided to send him into exile, many, perhaps the majority, thought the punishment too light. They would have had him treated as a rebel and immediately hanged or beheaded. Yet while the mass of the English people hated Napoleon, Englishmen who had ever met him were apt to be his firm friends, or at least his admirers.
Captain Maitland, of theBellerophon, said that he had inquiries made of the crew as to their opinion of him, and this was the result: "They may abuse that man as much as they please, but if the people of England knew him as well as we do, they would not touch a hair of his head."
Though Napoleon had surrendered to Great Britain alone, the Allied Powers, desiring Great Britain to be responsible for him, approved her course.
During the voyage of ten weeks toward St. Helena, Napoleon suffered little from sea-sickness after the first few days. He breakfasted in his own cabin at ten or eleven o'clock. Before he dined he generally played a game of chess, and remained at dinner, in compliment to the Admiral, about an hour. After he had his coffee he left the others to walk with Count Bertrand or Count Las Cases on the quarter-deck. He often spoke to those officers who could understand French. At first he showed little interest in the occupations of those about him, but in time he engaged in more general conversation and was especially inclined to talk to Mr. Warden, theNorthumberlandsurgeon, about the prevailing complaints on board the ship and his methods of treating the sick. After a while he turned to his own books and spent most of the day reading or in dictating to Las Cases. On the twenty-third of August theNorthumberlandcrossed the equator. Before this the Admiral had amused himself trying to frighten the French, telling them of the rough ceremony practised by the sailors, who always undertook to present to Neptune all persons on board who had never before crossed the line. It happened, however, that in this instance all made a special effort to be courteous. While the sailors presented to Neptune were shaved with huge razors and a lather of pitch, the French were introduced politely with compliments, and the Emperor was treated especially well.
Napoleon seemed amused by this novel performance, and later he wished to have one hundred napoleons divided among the sailors. He was made, however, to feel his altered position when, after some discussion, the Admiral courteously but decidedly refused his request.
There were probably few on theNorthumberlandwho did not deeply sympathize with the fallen Emperor. On this long, monotonous voyage, when his only amusements were conversation and an occasional evening game of whist with his friends, he seemed to be trying to make the best of the situation.
On the morning when theNorthumberlandapproached St. Helena, the Emperor dressed early, and going up on deck stepped forward on the gangway. It was the fifteenth of October when the ship, after its long voyage, lay at anchor. The Emperor, standing on the gangway with Las Cases behind him, looked through his glass at the shore. Directly in front he saw a little village, surrounded by barren and naked hills, reaching toward the clouds. Wherever he looked, on every platform, at every aperture, on every hill, was a cannon. Las Cases, watching his face intently, could perceive no change of expression, for Napoleon now had full control of himself. Unmoved he could look on the island that was to be his prison, perhaps his grave. He did not stay long on deck, but, turning about, asked Las Cases to lead the way to his cabin. There they went on with their usual occupation, waiting until they should be told that the time for landing had come.
During the long voyage Napoleon had won the regard of most persons on the ship. TheNorthumberlandwas terribly crowded, but while others grumbled, he made no complaint of the great discomfort, although he, like the others, was affected by it. Already he had begun to practise that stoicism which, on the whole, was the keynote of his life at St. Helena.
Napoleon quickly fitted himself into his place in his new surroundings. So adaptable was he that the children soon ceased to regard him as a stranger, nor were they inclined to criticise his habits, although in most respects his ways were quite unlike those of the Balcombe family. For example, he did not breakfast as they did. After rising at eight o'clock, he satisfied himself with a cup of coffee and had his first hearty meal, breakfast or luncheon as they variously called it, at one. It was nine o'clock in the evening before he dined, and eleven when he withdrew to his own room.
The Pavilion, the building that chiefly formed his new abode, was a short distance from the main building of The Briars. It had one good room on the ground floor, and two garrets. Napoleon selected this Pavilion, not because it was really more convenient for him, but because by occupying it he would less disturb the Balcombe family than by taking quarters in the main house.
Las Cases and his son were in one of the garrets, and Napoleon's chiefvalet de chambreand others of his household were in the second. The rooms were so crowded that some of the party had to sleep on the floor of the little hall. The Pavilion had been built by Betsy's father as a ballroom, and had a certain stateliness. The large room opened on a lawn, neatly fenced around, and in the centre of the lawn was a marquee, connected with the house by a covered way. The marquee had two compartments. The inner one was Napoleon's bedroom, and in the other General Gorgaud slept. There was little but the beds in the marquee. General Gorgaud slept on a small tent bed with green silk hangings, which Napoleon had had with him in all his campaigns.
Between the two divisions of the marquee some of the servants of Napoleon had carved a huge crown in the green turf, on which the Emperor was obliged to step as he passed through.
At first Count Bertrand and Count Montholon with their families were lodged at Mr. Porteous's house in the town, where a suitable table was prepared for them in the French style. They could go to The Briars whenever they wished, accompanied by a British officer or Dr. O'Meara, who was appointed physician to Napoleon; or, followed by a soldier, they were permitted to visit any part of the island except the forts and batteries.
A captain of artillery resided at The Briars, and at first a sergeant and soldiers were also stationed there. But the presence of the soldiers was evidently needless, as well as so disagreeable to the family that, on hearing various remonstrances, Sir George Cockburn ordered them away.
But for the presence of the artillery officer, Napoleon during his stay at The Briars might almost have forgotten that he was a prisoner. He and his suite appreciated the unfailing kindness of Mr. Balcombe and his family, who from the first left nothing undone for the comfort of the exiles. During the early days of his stay the dinner for the French people at The Briars was sent out from town, but soon Mr. Balcombe fitted up a little kitchen, connected with the Pavilion, where Napoleon's accomplished cook had every opportunity to display his skill. Very often after dinner Napoleon obligingly went outside for a walk, that his attendants might finish their dinner in the room that he had left.
Soon after his arrival Napoleon was visited by Colonel Wilks, Governor of St. Helena, Mrs. Wilks, and other officials of the island, and some of the leading citizens and their families. He had not yet begun to seclude himself, and he and his companions seemed to be trying to make the best of their situation. Then and later evening parties were occasionally given by the French without much appearance of restraint. Napoleon accepted no invitations except those given by his friends at The Briars, and in one or two unusual cases, but the others went sometimes to the well-attended balls given by Sir George Cockburn.
Madames Bertrand and Montholon and the rest of Napoleon's suite, for whom there was not room at The Briars, often came to see him there, and remained during the day. To them he was stillle grand empereur. His every look was watched, every wish was anticipated, and they showed him great reverence. Some have thought that in dealing with them he insisted too much on the etiquette of a court, but certainly none of the suite complained of formality.
Napoleon was always polite to guests at The Briars, and once went to a large party given by Mr. Balcombe, pleasing every one by his urbanity. When guests were introduced he always asked their profession, and then turned the conversation in that direction. People were always surprised at the extent of his information. Officers and others on the way from China sought introductions and were seldom refused.
Indeed in those first months his attitude to people was very different from what it was later. Not infrequently he himself invited people to dine with him.
Most of Napoleon's suite shared with him a feeling of friendliness for the Balcombe family. Las Cases, however, was always ready to criticise Miss Betsy, whose hoydenish ways he could never understand. One evening, when she was turning over the leaves of Estille's "Floriant," seeing that Gaston de Foix was called General, she asked Napoleon whether he was satisfied with him and whether he had escaped or was still living. This question shocked Las Cases, for it seemed to him extraordinary that a girl should imagine that the famous Gaston de Foix had been a general under Napoleon.
But this was not a very strange mistake for a little English girl to make. It is to be feared that Las Cases always took a certain pleasure in correcting the faults of the young Balcombes, or in reporting them to their parents.
From the first Napoleon claimed more of the society of Betsy than of the other members of the family, and so agreeable were his manners toward her that the little girl soon began to regard him as a companion of her own, with whom she could be perfectly at ease, rather than as one much older.
"His spirits were very good, and he was at times almost boyish in his love of mirth and glee, not unmixed sometimes with a tinge of malice," wrote Betsy years later.
"Jane," said Betsy to her sister, not long after Napoleon's arrival, "the Emperor has invited us to dine with him. What fun it will be!"
"I don't know. I am afraid it will be terribly solemn."
"Oh, no; I am not afraid of that. The Emperor isn't solemn. You ought to get acquainted with him, and you wouldn't think so."
Jane shook her head dubiously.
"I am half afraid of him. I don't see how you can dare to trifle so with him. What were you laughing at yesterday when Lucy was here? I thought the Emperor looked rather silly."
"Well, perhaps he did, if you put it that way," responded the blunt Betsy. "Only Lucy was sillier. I thought she would drag me to the ground when I told her the Emperor was coming across the lawn."
"Then why did you run and bring him up to her? I saw you do it."
"I needn't have done that. I did more harm than good. I told her he wasn't the cruel creature she thought him. But I oughtn't to have told the Emperor she was afraid of him. At least, I wouldn't have done so had I known how he would act, for he brushed up his hair so it stood out like a savage's, and when he came up to Lucy he gave a queer growl so that she screamed until mamma thought she might have hysterics and hurried her out into the house."
"It was ridiculous for a man to act like a child," responded the sedate Jane, who had not acquired Betsy's admiration for Napoleon.
"It was more ridiculous for her to scream. Napoleon laughed so at her that I had to take her part. 'I thought you a kind of an ogre, too,' I said, 'before I knew you.' 'Perhaps you think I couldn't frighten you now,' he answered, 'but see;' and then he brushed his hair up higher and made faces, and he looked so queer that I could only laugh at him. 'So I can't frighten you!' he said, and then he howled and howled, and at last seemed disappointed that I wasn't alarmed. 'It's a Cossack howl,' he explained, 'and ought to terrify you!' To tell you the truth, it was something terrible, but though I didn't like it I wouldn't flinch. Of course it was all in fun, for he is really very kind-hearted," concluded Betsy.
"All the same I don't enjoy the thought of having dinner with him," responded the practical Jane. "I've half a mind not to go."
"Oh, Jane, that would never do! What would the Emperor think? After you have been invited, too. Besides, mother wouldn't let you stay away. An invitation from royalty is a command."
"But Napoleon isn't—"
"Hush," cried Betsy, not wishing to hear her new friend belittled. She always took offence if any one called him prisoner.
In spite of her professed distaste for the dinner, Jane would have been disappointed had she been obliged to stay at home. She set out gayly enough, proud in her secret heart that she was to have the honor of being in the company of the great man.
Nine o'clock, Napoleon's dinner hour, was late for the little girls. As they entered his apartment the Emperor greeted them cordially, meeting them with extended hands, and a moment after, Cipriani, hismaître d'hôtel, stood at the door.
"Le diner de votre Majesté est servi." Whereupon Napoleon, with a girl on each side, led the way after Cipriani, who walked backward, followed by the rest of his suite, who were dining with him.
Hardly had they taken their places when Napoleon began to quiz Betsy on the fondness of the English for "rosbif and plum pudding."
"It is better than eating frogs."
"Oh, my dear Mees, how you wrong us!"
"Ah, but see here!" cried Betsy, and she brought him a caricature of a long, lean Frenchman with his mouth open, his tongue out, and a frog on the tip of it, ready to jump down his throat. Under it was written, "A Frenchman's Dinner."
The Emperor laughed loudly at this. "You are impertinent," he cried, pinching Betsy's ear. "I must show this to the petit Las Cases. He will not love you so much for laughing at his countrymen."
Upon this Betsy turned very red. The Emperor had touched a vulnerable point. The young Las Cases, a boy of fourteen, was now at dinner with them, and Napoleon had found that he could easily tease Betsy about him.
"He will not want a wife," continued Napoleon, "who makes fun of him;" and Betsy, inwardly enraged, could only maintain a dignified silence.
The Emperor gazed intently at his young friend, and later, when they rose from the table, he called young Las Cases.
"Come, kiss her; this is your revenge."
Betsy looked about vainly for a means of escape. But the Emperor had already closed his hands over hers, holding them so that she had no chance to get away, while young Las Cases, with a mischievous smile, approached and kissed her.
As soon as her hands were at liberty, Betsy boxed the boy's ears and awaited her chance to pay Napoleon off.
There was no inside hall to go from Napoleon's apartments to the rest of the house, and it was necessary to pass outside along a steep, narrow path, wide enough for only one at a time.
An idea flashed into the mind of mischievous Betsy as Napoleon led the way, followed by Count Las Cases, his son, and last by Jane.
Betsy let the others get ahead of her, and waited when they were about ten yards distant. Then with might and main she dashed ahead, running with full force against the luckless Jane, who fell with extended hand upon young Las Cases. He in turn struck against his father, and the latter, to his dismay, against Napoleon.
The latter could hardly hold his footing, while Betsy in the rear, delighted with the success of her plan, jumped and screamed with pleasure.
The Emperor said nothing, but Las Cases, horror-struck at the insult offered his master, became furiously angry as Betsy's laughter fell on his ear.
Turning back, he caught her roughly by the shoulder and pushed her against the rocky bank. It was now Betsy's turn to be angry.
"Oh, sir, he has hurt me!"
"Never mind," replied Napoleon; "to please you, I will hold him while you punish him."
Thereupon it was young Las Cases's place to tremble. While the great man held him by the hands, Betsy gleefully boxed his ears until he begged for mercy.
"Stop, stop!" he cried.
"No, I will not. This has all been your fault. If you hadn't kissed me—"
"There, there," at last called the Emperor to the boy, "I will let you go, but you must run as fast as you can. If you cannot run faster than Betsy, you deserve to be beaten again."
The young French page did not wait for a second warning, but starting off at a run travelled as fast as he could, with Betsy in full pursuit. Napoleon, watching them, laughed heartily and clapped his hands as the two raced around the grounds. The little encounter amused him, but Las Cases the elder took the matter more seriously.
Betsy wrote, "From that moment Las Cases never liked me, after this adventure, and used to call me a little rude hoyden."
The next afternoon Betsy and Jane joined the Emperor, accompanied by General Gorgaud, in a walk in a meadow.
"Look, Betsy!" cried Jane, "there are the cows I saw the other day. I am half afraid of them."
"Nonsense! How silly!" cried the intrepid Betsy. "Afraid of a cow!" and she repeated her sister's fear to Napoleon. The latter, professing to be surprised and amused at Jane's fears, joined with Betsy in a laugh at her sister's expense. But even the dread of ridicule had little effect on Jane.
"Oh, Betsy," she cried, "I am sure one of those cows is coming at us!"
Looking up, Betsy had to admit that her sister might be right. One of the cows was rushing toward them with her head down, as if ready to attack the party. It was no time for words, and Napoleon, feeling it no disgrace to retreat in the presence of such an enemy, jumped nimbly over a wall and, standing behind it, was thus protected against the enemy.
General Gorgaud did not run, but standing with drawn sword exclaimed, "This is the second time I have saved the Emperor's life."
From behind his wall Napoleon laughed loudly at Gorgaud's boast.
"You ought to have put yourself in the position to repel cavalry," he cried.
"But really, Monsieur," said Betsy, "it was you who terrified the cows, for the moment you disappeared over the wall the animal became calm and tranquil."
"Well, well," cried Napoleon, again laughing, "it is a pity she could not carry out her good intentions. Evidently she wished to save the English Government the expense and trouble of keeping me."
"Betsy," said the sedate Jane a little later, when she had a chance to talk to her sister alone, "you ought not to speak so to the Emperor. You treat him like a child."
"Well, he seems like one of us, doesn't he, Jane? I always feel as if he were one of us, a brother of our own age, and I am sure he is much happier than if we acted as if we were afraid of him. But still, if you like, I will walk very solemnly now."
So Betsy walked along beside her sister with a slow and mincing step, her face as long as if she had lost her best friend. As she approached the Emperor he noticed the change.
"Eh, bien! qu'as tu, Mademoiselle Betsee?" he asked. "Has le petit Las Cases proved inconstant? If he have, bring him to me."
Instantly Betsy's new resolves melted away and for the rest of the walk she and Napoleon were in their usual mood of good comradeship.
The next morning, when Napoleon joined the family circle at The Briars, one of Betsy's little brothers, hardly more than a baby, sat on Napoleon's knee, and began to amuse himself as usual by playing with the glittering decorations and orders that Napoleon wore.
"Come, Mees Betsee," he cried, "there is no pleasing this child. You must come and cut off these jewels to satisfy him."
"Oh, I have something better to do now!" cried little Alexander, jumping from Napoleon's knee and picking up a pack of cards. "Look!" he continued, pointing to the figure of a Grand Mogul on the back of each card, "look, Bony, this is you."
At first the Emperor, with his imperfect knowledge of English, did not exactly understand the child's meaning. When he did, instead of taking offence, he only smiled as he turned to Betsy, saying, "But what does he mean by calling me 'Bony'?"
"Ah," replied Betsy in French, "it is short for Bonaparte." Las Cases, however, trying to improve on the little girl's definition, interpreted the word literally, "a bony person."
Napoleon laughed at this reply, adding, "Je ne suis pas osseux," and this was all. Alexander was not reproved for his familiarity.
It was true that Bonaparte was far from thin or bony, and Betsy had often admired his plump hand, which she had more than once called the prettiest in the world. Its knuckles were dimpled like a baby's, the fingers taper and beautifully formed, and the nails perfect.
"Your hand does not look large and strong enough to hold a sword," she said to him one day.
"Ah, but it is," said one of his suite, who was present. Drawing his own sabre from its scabbard, he pointed to a stain on it, saying, "This is the blood of an Englishman."
"Sheathe your sword," cried the Emperor. "It is bad taste to boast, particularly before ladies. But if you will pardon me," and he looked toward the others in the room, "I will show you a sword of mine."
Then from its embossed sheath Napoleon drew a wonderful sword with a handle in the shape of a golden fleur-de-lis. The sheath itself was hardly less remarkable, made of a single piece of tortoise shell, studded with golden bees.
The children were delighted when the Emperor permitted them to touch the wonderful weapon. It was the most beautiful sword they had ever seen.
As Betsy held the sword in her hands, unluckily she remembered a recent incident in which she had been at a great disadvantage under the Emperor's teasing. Now was her chance to get even with her tormentor.
With her usual heedlessness of consequences she drew out the sword and began to make passes at Napoleon until she had driven him into a corner.
"You must say your prayers," she said, "for I am going to kill you."
"Oh, Betsy, how can you!" remonstrated the more prudent Jane, rushing to the Emperor's assistance. "I will go and tell father."
But Betsy only laughed at her.
"I don't care," she cried. "People tease me when they like. Now it is my turn;" and she continued to thrust the sword dangerously near Napoleon's face, until her strength was exhausted, and her arm fell at her side. Count Las Cases, the dignified chamberlain, who had entered the room during the encounter, looked on indignantly. He did not quite dare to interfere, although his indignation was plainly expressed in his face. Already he had taken a deep dislike to the little girl, and to him the sword incident seemed the climax of her misbehavior. If looks could kill, she would have perished on the spot.
Although the Frenchman's expression had not the power to annihilate Betsy, something in his look warned her that she had gone far enough. Daring though she was, she decided that her wisest course was to give up the weapon. As she handed the sword back to him, Napoleon playfully pinched her ear.
It happened, unluckily, however, that Betsy's ear had been bored only the day before. The pinch consequently caused her some pain. Without venturing to resist the Emperor's touch, she gave a sharp exclamation. She knew that he had not intended to hurt her.
When the little flurry over the sword had ended, Napoleon seemed lost in thought, and the children wondered what he was thinking of. Perhaps the laughing ways of these young people reminded him of his little son, whose growth from babyhood to youth he was destined never to see. Some such thought must have been in his mind when he turned to one of his attendants, saying:
"I believe that these children would like to see some of mybijouterie. Go bring me those miniatures of the King of Rome."
In a short time the messenger returned, laden with little boxes, while the children loudly expressed their delight. They knew the story of the young Napoleon, once the pride of the French nation, on whom had been conferred the title King of Rome. They knew that he had gone to live with the Austrian Emperor, father of his mother, Maria Louisa, and perhaps some of them had heard of his stout resistance to those who came to take him away from his beautiful home, the Tuileries. Already they had seen some of the portraits of the little boy, brought by Napoleon to St. Helena, and they were pleased by the idea of seeing others of the collection.
So they gathered around the Emperor as children will when something interesting is to be shown them.
"How lovely!" cried Jane, gazing at the miniature she was first allowed to hold in her hand.
It was indeed a beautiful picture, showing a baby asleep in his cradle, which was in the shape of a helmet of Mars. Above his head the banner of France was waving and in his tiny right hand was a small globe.
"What does it mean?" asked Betsy, a little timidly now, as she noted the expression of mingled pride and sadness in Napoleon's face.
"Ah, those are the symbols of greatness. He is to be a great warrior and rule the world."
"Yes—in a minute," murmured Betsy, as one of the boys whispered to her to translate "Je prie le bon Dieu pour mon père, ma mère, et ma patrie," inscribed beneath a picture of the child on a snuffbox cover, which showed the little fellow in prayer before a crucifix. Then they both looked at another miniature portraying him riding one lamb, while he was decking another with ribbons.
"Ah!" mused the Emperor again sadly. "Those were real lambs. They were given him by the inhabitants of Paris,—a hint, I suppose, that they would rather have peace than war."
"And this is his mother," continued the Emperor, as a woman, far less handsome than Josephine, was shown in the miniature with the boy, surrounded by a halo of roses and clouds.
"She is beautiful," exclaimed Napoleon; "but I will show you the most beautiful woman in the world."
The girls echoed his words. "I never saw any one so beautiful in my life," cried Betsy, gazing on the portrait of a young, charming woman.
"And you never will," avowed Napoleon.
"The Princess of—" queried one of the French.
"My sister Pauline," said Napoleon, "and you show good taste in admiring her. She is probably one of the loveliest women ever created."
"But now," he continued, when they had seen all the pictures, "let us go down to the cottage and play whist."
Turning reluctantly from the miniatures, the children walked down to the cottage and soon were ready to play.
But the cards did not deal smoothly enough. "Go off there by yourself," said Napoleon to young Las Cases, "and deal until the cards run better. And now, Mees Betsy, tell me about yourrobe de bal."
Betsy's face flushed with pleasure. "Do you really want to see it? I will go upstairs and get it."
To Betsy the ball to be given soon by Sir George Cockburn was a wonderful affair. It was considered a great event by all the people of the island, but for Betsy it had a special significance, because it would be her very first ball. In England, at her age, her parents would not have thought of letting her go to a ball, but amusements were so few at St. Helena that to keep her home would have seemed cruel.
At first her parents had objected to her going, but when Napoleon saw her in tears one day and learned why, he asked her father to let her go, and thus she gained her father's consent.
It is not strange then that the little girl took a great interest in her gown for the ball, and since she felt indebted to the Emperor for his intercession, she was pleased that he expressed an interest in her costume.
So she ran upstairs light-heartedly to get the new gown, and in a few minutes returned with it on her arm.
"It is very pretty," cried the Emperor, examining the gown critically; and all the others, except the stern Las Cases, had a word of commendation for it.
It was a delicately pretty gown, trimmed with soft roses. Even if it had not been her first ball-gown, Betsy's pride in it would have been justified; but as things were, no cynical person could have found fault with her for picturing to herself what a fine impression she would make at this first appearance at a grown-up function.
The Emperor's praises were particularly gratifying, because he had a way of ridiculing any detail of dress that he did not like.
"Oh, Mees Betsee," he would cry, "why do you wear trousers? You look just like a boy;" and any one who has seen pictures of girls in pantalets will admit that they merited criticism. Or again he would say:
"If I were governor I would make a law against ladies wearing those ugly, short waists. Why do you wear them, Mees Betsee?"
It was, therefore, delightful to the young girl that he approved her ball-gown.
After sufficient praise had been given the dress, the four sat down to play, Napoleon and Jane against Las Cases and Betsy.
"Mademoiselle Betsee," said the Emperor, "I tire of sugar-plums. I bet you a napoleon on the game. What will you put against it?"
"I have no money," replied Betsy, a little shyly for her. "I have nothing worth a napoleon except—oh, yes—my little pagoda. Will that do?"
The Emperor laughed. "Yes, that will do, and I will try to get it."
So they began in merry spirits.
"There, there," cried Betsy after a minute or two, "that isn't fair. You mustn't show your cards to Jane."
"But this is such a good one." Napoleon's eye twinkled.
"Well, it isn't fair," added Betsy with the excitement in her tone often observable in vivacious natures. As the cards were shuffled she repeated, "Remember, you mustn't look at your cards until they are all dealt."
"But it seems so long to wait."
"Then I won't play. You revoked on purpose."
"Did I? Then I must hide my guilt;" and Napoleon mixed all the cards indiscriminately together, while Betsy tried to hold his hands to prevent further mischief, as she pointed out what he had done.
Napoleon, amused by Betsy's indignation, laughed until the tears came.
"Mees Betsy, Mees Betsy, I am surprised. I played so fair, and you have cheated so; you must pay me the forfeit, the pagoda."
"No, Monsieur, you revoked."
"Oh, but Mees Betsy, but you areméchanteand a cheat. Ah, but I will keep you from going to the ball!"
While they were playing Betsy had quite forgotten the pretty gown that she had laid carefully on the sofa. Now, all too late, she realized its danger, for the Emperor, suddenly turning toward the sofa, seized it, and before she could stop him ran out of the room with it, toward the Pavilion.
Betsy in alarm quickly followed, but though she went fast, Napoleon went faster, and had locked himself in his room before she reached him.
Poor Betsy was now thoroughly frightened. She was sure that her pretty gown, with its trimmings of soft roses, would be destroyed.
"Oh, give it to me, please!" she cried in English, as she knocked upon his door. But the Emperor made no reply. Then she made her appeal in French, using every beseeching word she knew to get him to return it. Still his only answer was a mocking laugh, repeated several times, and an occasional word of refusal. Nor did any one else come to Betsy's assistance. As short a time as the French had lived at The Briars there was hardly one of them on whom Betsy had not played some trick, and even the members of her own family were unsympathetic when a message was brought her from Napoleon that he intended to keep her dress and that she might as well make up her mind she could not go to the ball.
Poor Betsy! At night, after many wakeful hours, she cried herself to sleep. When morning came things did not seem so black. She felt sure that the Emperor would not do what he had no right to do, keep her pretty dress. He would surely send it back to her. But the morning wore away, and, contrary to his habit, Napoleon did not come near his neighbors of The Briars. Betsy sent several strongly appealing messages, but to them all came only one reply:
"The Emperor is sleeping, and cannot be disturbed."
So strong indeed was the dignity with which Napoleon had hedged himself, that even the daring Betsy did not venture to intrude upon him when he was resting.
Afternoon came, and at last it was almost time to start for the valley. The family were to ride there on horseback, carrying their ball-dresses in tin cases, and they were to dress at the house of a friend.
The horses were brought around, the black boys came up with the tin cases that held the dresses—the dresses of the rest of the party—but nothing of poor Betsy's. The little girl's cup was full to overflowing; she, the courageous, began to cry.
She turned to one of the servants:
"Has my dress been packed?"
"Of course not; we didn't have it to pack."
"Then I cannot go."
Her tears had ceased. She was now too angry to cry longer.
"I will go anyway," she said on second thought. "I will dance in my morning frock, and then you will all feel sorry, for I will tell every one how I have been treated."
At this moment a figure was seen running down the lawn. It was Napoleon, and Betsy gave a scream of delight as she saw that in his arms he carried her dress.
Her face brightened and she hastened to meet him.
"Here, Mees Betsy," he cried; "I have brought your dress. I hope you are a good girl now, and that you will like the ball; and mind you dance with Gorgaud."
"Yes, yes!" said Betsy, too happy to get her dress to oppose any suggestion, although General Gorgaud was no favorite of hers and she had a long-standing feud with him.
"You will find your roses still fresh," said the Emperor. "I ordered them arranged and pulled out, in case any were crushed."
To the little girl's delight, when she examined her gown she found that no harm had been done it, in spite of the rough treatment it had received at Napoleon's hands.
"I wish you were going, sire," she said politely, as he walked beside the horses to the end of the bridle path.
"Ah, balls are not for me," he replied, shaking his head. Then he stopped.
"Whose house is that?" he asked, pointing to a house in the valley far beneath. "It is beautifully situated," he continued; "some time I shall visit it. Come, Las Cases, we must not detain the party."
"We must hurry on," whispered one of those on horseback.
"Good-bye, good-bye," and Napoleon and the elder Las Cases went down the mountain toward the house that he had seen in the distance, while Betsy and the others rode on toward the ball.
Next day Napoleon said that he had been charmed with the beautiful place in the valley that he and Las Cases had visited after he had seen the others ride away to the ball. He had found the owner of the place, Mr. Hodgdon, very agreeable, and at last he had ridden home on an Arab horse that the latter had lent him.
Before Napoleon withdrew within his shell he was not only inclined to receive visitors but to pay visits. Betsy and Jane were riding gayly along one day when they came unexpectedly upon Napoleon, also on horseback.
"Where have you been?" asked the venturesome Betsy.
"To Candy Bay," replied Napoleon, without resenting her inquisitiveness.
"Oh, didn't you think Fairyland just the most perfect place?"
"Yes, indeed, I was delighted with it and with its venerable host, Mr. D. He is a typical Englishman of the highest type."
"Yes, and only think, he is over seventy years old and yet has never left the island. I don't know what St. Helena would do without him," said Jane.
"I call him the good genius of the valley," added Betsy.
One morning, not long after the ball, Betsy took a slight revenge on the Emperor. She had a certain favor to ask of him, and she had gone to look for him in his favorite retreat in his garden, the Grapery, near a large pond of clear water, full of gold and silver fish. Though called a grapery, vines of many different kinds twined over the trellis-work, while the grapevines were chiefly over an arbor at the end.
In the sultriest weather this little arbor was cool and pleasant, and here Napoleon was in the habit of taking his books and papers when he wished to work out of doors.
He had no regular hour for rising, and sometimes he would go there as early as four o'clock and write until breakfast, or dictate to Las Cases. No one was permitted to intrude on him there, no one but Betsy occasionally, and then it could hardly be called intruding, for she usually went at the Emperor's request, or, as it might be said, she had a general invitation. When Betsy said, "Come and unlock the garden door," Napoleon stopped, even in the middle of the sentence he might be dictating, and she was always admitted. This general invitation, however, might have been withdrawn if Betsy had not been too sensible to interrupt the Emperor often. She was careful not to abuse what was for her a special privilege.
On this particular morning she went to the arbor door with some hesitation. One of her friends from the valley, a very charming girl, had come to pass the morning with her.
"Now, Betsy," she had said, "I hear that you are a great favorite with Napoleon and you must introduce me, for I am just dying to see him."
"I do not think I can," replied Betsy. "It is a very hot morning and I saw him go early to the arbor. I do not like to disturb him when he is busy."
"Busy! How can a prisoner be busy? It cannot matter whether he is idle or busy."
"He is not a prisoner, at least we don't call him so," retorted Betsy indignantly, "and he is writing books."
"Oh, I suppose you know best, but if you cannot be obliging, I shall be mortified when I go home to say that I did not see him. I heard you knew him so well, that I supposed you wouldn't mind introducing me."
Thus put on her mettle, Betsy yielded against her better judgment and went down to the arbor.
At first there was no answer to her knock. Napoleon had fallen asleep over his papers. At last she succeeded in arousing him. "What do you want?" he asked rather gruffly as he came to the little door.
"Let me in, and you will know."
"No, tell me first what you want and then I will let you in."
Betsy was not so sure of this, but since she could not help it, she had to explain her errand.
"I wish to introduce a young lady to you."
"Oh, no, indeed; I am not well."
"But she will be so disappointed,—and she is so pretty."
"Not like the lady I was obliged to say agreeable things to yesterday?"
"Oh, no, she is very different. She is really young and handsome."
"Very well, then, since you have promised, I suppose I must go, but come in for a minute,"—this not very politely, it must be admitted. As Betsy entered the little enclosure she rushed to the table and rather rudely snatched up some of the papers on which Napoleon had been at work.
"Now," she said, "for your ill-nature in making me stand so long at the door, I shall keep these and find out all your secrets."
The Emperor looked at Betsy with some alarm. He did not like to see his papers in her hands.
"Put them down instantly," he cried.
"No, no," rejoined Betsy, running around the garden with the papers held high above her head. The Emperor looked at her sternly.
"Very well! Unless you obey me at once, I shall no longer be your friend."