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NAPOLEON'S YOUNG NEIGHBOR
BY HELEN LEAH REED
AUTHOR OF "BRENDA; HER SCHOOL AND HER CLUB," "BRENDA'S COUSIN AT
RADCLIFFE," "BRENDA'S WARD," "AMY IN ACADIA," ETC.
_ILLUSTRATED_
BOSTON:
LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY
1907
Copyright, 1907,
By Little, Brown, and Company.
_All rights reserved_
Published October, 1907
Alfred Mudge & Son, Inc., Printers,
Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
TO
DOROTHY E. B.
WHOSE LOVE OF HISTORY BESPEAKS
A WELCOME
FOR THIS LITTLE VOLUME.
[Illustration: NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA. From the painting by Delaroche]
PREFACE
This book, chronicling some little known passages in the last few years
of Napoleon, is based on the "Recollections of Napoleon at St. Helena,"
by Mrs. Abell (Elizabeth Balcombe), published in 1844 by John Murray.
Her little book is written in an old-fashioned and quiet style, and the
present writer, without altering any words of Napoleon's, has, so far as
possible, given a vivid form to conversations and incidents related
undramatically and has rearranged incidents that Mrs. Abell told without
great attention to chronology. The writer has also added many pages of
matter (with close reference to the best authorities) in order to make
the whole story of Napoleon clear to those who are not familiar with it.
CONTENTS
I. GREAT NEWS
II. A DISTINGUISHED TENANT
III. FROM WATERLOO TO ST. HELENA
IV. NAPOLEON AT THE BRIARS
V. BETSY'S BALL-GOWN
VI. A HORSE TAMER
VII. OFF FOR LONGWOOD
VIII. THE GOVERNOR'S RULES
IX. ALL KINDS OF FUN
X. THE SERIOUS SIDE
XI. THE EMPEROR'S VISITORS
XII. THOUGHTLESS BETSY
XIII. LONGWOOD DAYS
XIV. THE PARTING
XV. THE PANORAMA
XVI. THE LAST PICTURES
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA
JAMESTOWN
THE EMBARKATION ON BOARD THE _BELLEROPHON_
NAPOLEON
THE BRIARS
LONGWOOD
NAPOLEON'S YOUNG NEIGHBOR
CHAPTER I
GREAT NEWS
Far south in the Atlantic there is an island that at first sight from
the deck of a ship seems little more than a great rock. In shape it is
oblong, with perpendicular sides several hundred feet high. It is called
St. Helena because the Portuguese, who discovered it in 1502, came upon
it on the birthday of St. Helena, Constantine's mother. To describe it
as the geographies might, we may say that it lies in latitude 15 deg. 55'
South, and in longitude 5 deg. 46' West. It is about ten and a half miles
long, six and three-quarters miles broad, and its circumference is about
twenty-eight miles. The nearest land is Ascension Island, about six
hundred miles away, and St. Helena is eleven hundred miles from the Cape
of Good Hope.
From the sea St. Helena is gloomy and forbidding. Masses of volcanic
rock, with sharp and jagged peaks, tower up above the coast, an iron
girdle barring all access to the interior. A hundred years ago its sides
were without foliage or verdure and its few points of landing bristled
with cannon. Jamestown, the only town, named for the Duke of York, lies
in a narrow valley, the bottom of a deep ravine. Precipices overhang it
on every side; the one on the left, rising directly from the sea, is
known as Rupert's Hill, that on the right as Ladder Hill. A steep and
narrow path cuts along the former, and a really good road winds zigzag
along the other to the Governor's House. Opposite the town is James's
Bay, the principal anchorage, where the largest ships are perfectly
safe.
The town really consists of a small street along the beach, called the
Marina, which extends about three hundred yards to a spot where it
branches off into two narrower roads, one of which is now called
Napoleon Street. In 1815 there were about one hundred and sixty houses,
chiefly of stone cemented with mud, for lime is scarce on the island.
Among its larger buildings were a church, a botanical garden, a tavern,
barracks, and, high on the left, the castle, the Governor's town
residence.
About a mile and a half from the town there stood in the early part of
the past century a cottage built in the style of an Indian bungalow. It
was placed rather low, with rooms mainly on one floor. A fine avenue of
banyan trees led up to the house, and around it were tall evergreens and
laces, pomegranates and myrtles, and other tropical trees. Better than
these, however, in the eyes of the dwellers at The Briars were the great
white-rose bushes, like the sweetbriar of old England. From these the
house took its name, and thus the family in it seemed less far away from
their old home.
In a grove near the house were trees of every description, grapes of all
kinds and citron, orange, shaddoc, guava, and mango trees in the
greatest abundance. The surplus raised in the garden beyond what the
family could use brought its owner several hundred pounds a year. The
little cottage was shut in on one side by a hedge of aloes and prickly
pear and on the other by high cliffs and precipices. From one of these
cliffs, not far from the house, fell a waterfall, not only beautiful to
the eye but on a hot day refreshing to the mind with its cool splash and
tinkle.
The owner of The Briars at this time was an Englishman named Balcombe,
who was in the service of the government. Besides his servants his
household consisted of his wife, his daughters Jane and Betsy, in their
early teens, and two little boys much younger. They formed a happy,
contented household, living a simple, quiet life, and though the parents
were sometimes homesick, the children were very fond of their island
abode.
One evening in the middle of October, 1815, the Balcombe children were
having a merry time with their parents, when a servant, entering,
announced the arrival of two visitors.
"It is the captain of the _Icarus_," said Mr. Balcombe, turning to his
wife, "and another naval officer."
"The man-of-war that came in to-day?" asked one of the children. "We
heard the alarm sound from Ladder Hill."
"Yes, yes, my dear." Then, turning to a servant, "Show them in."
As the gentlemen entered the room, it was plain that they had something
of importance to communicate.
"Sir," said the senior officer to Mr. Balcombe, after the first
greetings, "I come to tell you that the _Icarus_ is sent ahead of the
_Northumberland_ to announce that the _Northumberland_ is but a few
days' sail from St. Helena."
"Yes," responded Mr. Balcombe politely, wondering why this announcement
should be made so seriously.
"Sir George Cockburn," continued the other, "commands the
_Northumberland_, and in his care is Napoleon Bonaparte, whom he brings
to St. Helena as a prisoner of state."
Mr. Balcombe started to speak; his expression was one of annoyance. He
was not fond of practical jokes. His wife leaned back in her chair,
gazing incredulously at the speaker. The children laughed. The officer's
story was too absurd. Then one of the little boys began to cry. In their
play the older children were in the habit of frightening the others with
the name of Napoleon Bonaparte. It was alarming to hear that the
terrible Napoleon was to come to live on their peaceful island.
Before Mr. Balcombe could express his surprise, the officer repeated:
"Yes, Napoleon Bonaparte, the enemy of England."
"But how can that be?" asked Mr. Balcombe, hardly understanding.
"Bonaparte was on Elba months ago; what has England to do with him now?"
"Surely--" began the captain; then recalling himself, "but I forgot how
far St. Helena is from the rest of the world. After Napoleon escaped
from Elba in February, he gathered a great army. But the Allies, with
our Iron Duke at the head, met him near Brussels, and there in June was
fought the great battle of Waterloo. Thousands were killed, brave
English as well as French. That battle marked the downfall of Napoleon,
and soon he was England's prisoner."
Mr. and Mrs. Balcombe, as well as their children, listened eagerly,
absorbed in a story they now heard for the first time.
"So they send him here?" It was Mr. Balcombe who first spoke.
"Yes; no spot in Europe can hold him. Even on Elba he had begun to
establish a kingdom. He reached beyond that little island, and now he
has had his Waterloo."
"It is clear, then," said Mr. Balcombe, "why they have sent him here.
This is a natural fortress and it belongs to England."
"Yes," said the officer; "England knows that here, in her keeping,
Bonaparte will never again escape to torment the world."
After a few more words of explanation on the one hand and of surprise on
the other, the visitors withdrew.
Of those who had listened to the officer young Elizabeth, or Betsy as
she was commonly called, was the most disturbed. She shivered and turned
pale, and her mother, noticing her agitation, soon sent her to bed.
There she silently wept herself to sleep and her dreams were filled with
visions of that dreadful ogre, Bonaparte. It was not a very long time
since she had really believed Napoleon to be a huge monster, a kind of
Polyphemus with one large, flaming eye in the middle of his forehead and
with long teeth protruding from his mouth, with which he devoured bad
little girls.
Although Betsy had outgrown this first idea of Napoleon, implanted in
her young brain by careless servants, she was still afraid of the
Conqueror. It is true that she realized he was not an ogre, but a human
being; that is to say, the very worst human being that had ever lived.
She knew this must be so, for she had heard sensible grown-up persons
speak of him in this way, even her own father and mother. What wonder,
then, that her dreams should be disturbed by thoughts of the misery that
must come to St. Helena with such a man as Napoleon living on the
island?
The next morning after the visit of the officer from the _Icarus_, the
little girl rose early. She was far from cheerful as she looked about
her on the lovely garden and grove. A wave of hot anger passed over her.
Why should that terrible man be permitted to land and destroy all this
beauty, as he would, of course, on the first opportunity?
From the garden she looked toward the rugged mountain, known as Peak's
Hill, which shut off the valley from the south. Her father had spoken of
the island as a natural fortress. Except for the mountains the
Government would never have thought of sending the dreadful Napoleon to
St. Helena. So she hated the mountains and cliffs.
Perhaps, however, even at that moment when she dreaded the coming of the
exiled Emperor, Betsy may have recalled her own first impressions of St.
Helena and cast a half-pitying thought toward the great man who now saw
in its rocky heights only his prison wall.
One day Betsy's mother had reminded the young girl of the bitter tears
she shed when she had first seen the island.
"You were a silly girl to cry when you first came in sight of land,"
said her mother, recalling the circumstance.
"Yes, but some had told me that the island was really the head of a
great negro that was only waiting for the breakfast bell; then it would
devour me first, and later the rest of the passengers and crew."
"Well, I am glad you told me your fears."
"So am I, for you showed me that these things could not be true."
"Yet I remember," responded Betsy's mother, "that you would not take
your head from my lap until eight bells had sounded. For some reason the
nearness of breakfast made you believe that danger was over."
"But you can't say that I made much fuss when I really was in the power
of a negro," rejoined Betsy; "for I can well remember how strange it
seemed when I was lifted in a basket, and told that a big negro was to
carry me out to The Briars. At first I was a little frightened, for I
had never seen a black man before, but he spoke so pleasantly when he
put me down to rest, even though grinning from ear to ear, that I
decided he would not harm me."
"You saw at once that he was good natured."
"Yes, and he asked me so kindly if I were comfortable in my little nest,
that I trusted him. I was as proud as a peacock when he said he was
honored in being allowed to carry me, because usually he had nothing but
vegetables in his basket. When we reached The Briars I told father I had
had a delightful ride, and so he gave the negro a little present that
made him grin more than ever, and he went off singing merrily at the top
of his voice."
Thus Betsy recalled her first impression of St. Helena.
If Mr. Balcombe and the rest of the family at The Briars were surprised
at the news of Napoleon's approach, people on the island in general were
equally astonished. No communication had reached Governor Wilks, no
letter of instructions as to what should be done with the illustrious
prisoner.
The captain of the _Icarus_ could only tell the residents of St. Helena
that Napoleon was near and that the Second Battalion of the Fifty-third
Regiment had embarked with the squadron. Even in those days, when there
were no cables to flash the news of coming events, when there were no
swift steamboats to act as heralds, it seems strange that in more than
seven months no news of the escape from Elba had reached the little
island.
Now, when the people of St. Helena heard the news, they were greatly
disturbed. They were afraid that the coming of Napoleon might cause
changes in their government, and they were so fond of the Governor that
they did not wish to lose him.
Their fears were well grounded, for when Sir George Cockburn landed it
was found that he had received an appointment that gave him the chief
civil and military power on the island, while Governor Wilks took
secondary rank. Later it was learned that on account of the distinction
of the prisoner, a governor of higher rank than Colonel Wilks would be
sent from England to supersede him, a governor who held his appointment
directly from the Crown.
Two or three days after the visit of the officer to The Briars, Betsy
and her brothers and sister were in a state of great excitement.
"Ah, I hope papa will not be killed," cried little Alexander.
"How silly you are!" responded the older Jane. "Why should he be
killed?"
"Because Napoleon is such a monster. If he should suddenly take out his
sword--"
"Yes, or open his mouth and swallow papa, how terrible it would be!"
added Betsy mockingly.
"Of course Bonaparte is a monster, but he would never dare hurt any one
on this island, especially an Englishman. Don't worry. Papa will come
home safely enough, but I wish he would hurry, so we could hear all
about the wretch."
Later in the day the children gathered eagerly around their father, who
had returned from his visit to the ships.
"Oh, papa, what was he like?" asked each in turn.
"Who, Napoleon?"
"Of course. We wish to hear about him. Didn't you see him? Didn't you
see anybody there?"
"I could hardly visit a fleet without seeing some one."
"Is it a large fleet?"
"Yes, it would be called large in any part of the world."
"How large is it?"
"Besides the _Northumberland_ there are several other men-of-war, and
the transports with the Fifty-third Regiment."
"But did you see Napoleon?" asked one of the children, returning to the
subject of greatest interest.
"I did not see General Bonaparte," replied the father, pausing to see
the effect of his words on the children. Then, as he noted their
expression of disappointment, he quickly added: "But I saw some of the
others,--some of his suite."
"Oh, tell us about it!"
"There is little to tell. After paying my respects to Sir George
Cockburn, I was introduced to Madame Bertrand and Madame Montholon, and
then to the rest of Napoleon's suite."
"What were they like?" asked one of the girls eagerly, as if she
expected her father to describe a group of strange beings.
"Like any travellers, my child, who had had a long voyage, from the
effects of which they were anxious to rest."
"Oh, I wish you had seen Napoleon!"
"I am likely to see him soon, and you may, also, as he is to land
to-night."
At this news the children were silent. To have Napoleon on the island
was not a pleasant prospect. They were not so sure now that they cared
to see him.
"But where will he live, papa, when he comes ashore?" ventured Jane at
last. "Will they put him in a dungeon?"
"Certainly not, my child. He is to live at Longwood, but as the house
needs to be put in repair, he will stay for a while with Mr. Porteous."
"When will he come ashore?" asked Betsy timidly. Now that her father had
spoken so reassuringly of Napoleon, she was curious to see him, at least
from a safe distance.
"He will land to-night,--after dark, I imagine, to escape the gaze of
the crowd;" and their father, turning from the children, went toward the
house.
As he left them, the young people began an animated discussion of
Napoleon. They were already getting used to the idea that he was to live
on St. Helena and that he was an ordinary human being, not unlike the
British officials of high rank sent out by the Crown.
"As he cannot possibly hurt us, why shouldn't we go to the valley to see
him land?" asked Betsy.
"Why shouldn't we?" echoed Jane. So it happened, when they had asked
their parents, that the older children were permitted to go to Jamestown
to see Napoleon land. When they reached the wharf it was dusk and crowds
of people were gathered on every side.
"I did not know there were so many people on the island," whispered
Betsy, as she pressed closer to her sister. "Do you suppose he will be
in the first boat?"
"I don't know. But see, it is coming!"
"Yes, little ladies," said a bystander, "Bonaparte will surely be in the
first boat."
"Here it is, here it is," cried Betsy. "Look, Jane, look!"
Even as she spoke, the passengers from the longboat were coming ashore,
and although it was seven o'clock in the evening, there was still enough
light to enable the watchers to see the figures of those who were
landing.
The girls strained their eyes. Three men marched slowly up from the
ship's boat. "See," cried Betsy, "probably Napoleon is in the middle."
"That little man, and in an overcoat!"
"Yes, for there is something flashing, probably a diamond."
"A man with a diamond! How foolish!" objected Jane.
[Illustration: JAMESTOWN]
"But it is, indeed it is!"
"I wish people wouldn't crowd so."
"They've got to move back. I'm glad of it. The sentries are standing
with fixed bayonets to keep more people from rushing down from the
town."
If Napoleon had landed earlier in the day, he would have been greeted by
an even greater crowd, for people had been gathering on the Marina from
the earliest hours; but disappointed that he was not to land until after
sunset, most of them had gone home. Still, however, a large enough crowd
had gathered to make it necessary for the sentries to use some force to
keep them in order.
In spite of the crowd, the sisters felt that they had been rewarded for
their trouble, for when they reached home they learned that the little
man in the green coat was indeed the dreaded monster.