“It is a sign that you are thought of,” Eliza noted, “which gives some hope.” A few days later Eliza sent a second letter from her home in Trenton, New Jersey. After telling Betsy that everyone admires the “dignity which I tell them characterizes you in your present Situation,” she assured her friend that “a brilliant destiny awaits you and the dear little Bo.” On June 8 she wrote once more, promising Betsy that Bo would be “splendidly provided for” and that his mother would surely receive generous support from Napoleon.
Betsy had no intention of sitting back and waiting for thegood fortune that Eliza was confident would come her way.On July 9 she wrote to the current French minister to the United States asking for his assistance in communicating to Napoleon about his nephew. She was careful to place no blame on the emperor; she saw herself, she told General Louis-Marie Turreau, simply as a victim of circumstances outside her control. But if political necessities trumped individual needs or desires, and if the rights of a society superseded the rights of an individual, as they did in her case, surely Napoleon must see Bo in a different light. Bo was no ordinary individual like herself; Bonaparte blood ran in his veins, and thus he was “worthy of interest.” As Bo’s mother, she found Napoleon’s insistence that she call herself Miss Patterson rather than Madame Bonaparte a social embarrassment for them both.
Minister Turreau did not dismiss her appeal out of hand. Instead, he sent her a series of questions meant to test her willingness to bow to any conditions Napoleon might impose. Although these questions were, on the surface, personal, it was clear that Napoleon’s motives were political. He wished to prevent any further diplomatic advantage to his archenemy, Britain. His goal was to neutralize this troublesome woman, to ensure that her “plight” would never again be grist for the English propaganda mill. Would she, the emperor’s surrogate asked, promise never to marry without the consent of the French government if the emperor gave her a title and a pension? Would she renounce forever any idea of going to England? Would she renounce the United States and go to Europe? If she moved to Europe, would she consent not to leave the town chosen by theemperor for her residence without first informing the prefect of the place? If Betsy agreed to these restrictions, she would, in effect, cede control over where and with whom she lived to Napoleon. This she seemed willing to do. But the last question gave her pause: Do you demand that your son should remain with you until the age of seven? This was itself a demand that she turn over her son at that point, to Napoleon or someone of his choosing.
By September it was clear that her former husband, Jérôme, might be the “someone” who planned to take Bo away. That month Alexandre Le Camus arrived in New York and forwarded to Betsy two letters written in May by Jérôme, one addressed to her and one to William Patterson. Addressing her once again as “beloved Elisa,” he asked that she give up her son to him. “Do not give in to grief, my good Elisa,” he added, “be hopeful, and count on a happier future.” He failed, of course, to provide details of what this happier future might be for a mother who sacrificed her son. In his letter to William,Jérôme was blunt: he wanted to bring up his son in Westphalia and, he claimed, Napoleon had approved of the plan.
Jérôme’s conciliatory tone vanished in his next letter. Perhaps he had gotten wind of Betsy’s negotiations with Turreau; perhaps he had simply heard rumors that she was attempting to communicate directly with his older brother. Whether it was gossip or fact, Jérôme was offended by the possibility that she would not rely exclusively upon him for assistance. I am a king, he reminded her, and I can provide for you and our son. He clearly thought he was making a magnanimous gesture
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