She was ‘a high-spirited hoyden, who said and did whatever occurred to her on the spur of the moment. The pranks that she played . . . must certainly have been in the nature of a piquant novelty to Napoleon.’17 The girl was honest, blunt in her opinions, a chatterer, loud, bold, giddy, dizzy, positively infuriating much of the time, but she was also enchantingly pretty and full of fun. She simply brightened Napoleon’s day.

That summer of 1815, the Balcombes found themselves besieged by visitors. People called on the slightest of pretexts and lingered in the garden in the hope of catching a glimpse of the famous guest. A Scottish gentleman from a Company ship in port wrote to his father in Edinburgh that he had visited ‘Mr Balcombe’s country house’ in the hope of seeing Napoleon: ‘He is occupied during the day in writing the history of his life, and the evening is devoted to walking in the garden with his Generals and his society at Mr Balcombe’s. The only chance strangers have of conversing with him, is by getting an introduction to Mr B. and stepping in, as if by chance in the evening. Our Captain and several of our passengers, by this means, have had long conversations with him; he talks upon every subject but those relating to politics, which he seems very desirous to avoid. He behaved with great politeness to the ladies, who have been echoing his praises ever since. We, for I had a companion with me, tied our horses to a tree, and slipt behind a bush, a little way from the walk where he was to pass; he passed several times within a few feet of us: we had a most distinct view of him.’18

Only on rare occasions—if the visitor was influential with the British government, a naval officer or a pretty female—did Bonaparte allow an actual introduction. But he warned Betsy that he had ‘a peculiar horror of ugly women’.

Catherine Younghusband, the attractive 35-year-old wife of Captain Robert Younghusband of the 53rd Regiment, had recently arrived on the island. She was charming and accomplished, a competent portrait painter, fluent in Italian and French, and ambitious. She was determined to meet the great Bonaparte and was ‘soon making social calls, with eight-year-old Emily, on the wife and daughters of the merchant William Balcombe . . . a stratagem which shortly brought success. Napoleon, seeing an elegant lady in the garden with a young daughter, could not resist coming out demanding “Qui est cette Dame?”’19 Catherine’s account of the meeting was published in Blackwood’s Magazine: ‘The two young ladies, who were respectively about thirteen and fifteen years of age, and were quite familiar with the Ex-Emperor, ran playfully towards him, dragging me forward by the hand, and saying to him, “This lady is the mother of the little girl who pleased you the other day by singing Italian canzonets.” Upon this he made me a bow, which I returned by a low and reverential curtsy, feeling, at the same time, a little confused at this sudden and unceremonious introduction.’

Catherine gave this description of the girls to her aunt, Lady Roche, in Ireland: ‘These two unsophisticated young Ladies, who are quite schoolgirls recently arrived from England, are not in the least in awe of him, and call him “Boney” which amuses and astonishes him beyond measure, their behaviour being in curious contrast to the profound respect paid to him by the Generals and Ladies of his suite. He laughs at their fearless vivacity, corrects their bad French & plays at Cards in the evening with the whole Family at the Briars for Sugar Plums.’20

However, apart from a few favoured visitors, Napoleon found it infuriating to be one of the ‘sights’ of St Helena. One afternoon when he was relaxing in the grape arbour, he once again found himself the object of scrutiny by strangers and escaped in the only direction he could, by leaping into the prickly-pear hedge. He was rescued by Marchand; not only did he suffer the indignity of torn clothing and scratched legs, but Dr O’Meara needed to be called to extract dozens of sharp thorns from the ample imperial buttocks.

The Leggs, a neighbouring farming family, came to visit the Balcombes, and were entertained in the parlour. Their daughter, a few years younger than Betsy, confided that she was terrified of Boney the bogeyman and begged to be warned if he came near. ‘Let’s see,’ said Betsy, and headed out the door and skipped over to the arbour. She intimated the little girl’s fear to Napoleon and asked him to come to the house. He followed, surprisingly amenable, leaving Las Cases glaring. On the way, ‘the former ruler of half the world’ mussed his hair so it stood up in spikes. He pushed past Betsy into the parlour, contorting his features hideously, roaring like a savage beast (he later said it was his Cossack howl) as he rushed at the little girl. The child screamed so violently that Mrs Balcombe feared she was having a hysterical fit and shepherded her out of the room.