Antommarchi was hampered by more than just a lack of medical acumen. He was out of his depth in the corridors of Longwood. One historian has claimed, with some exaggeration, that he ‘had not even the social qualities required, being merely an ignorant provincial from a village in a wild and remote corner of savage Corsica’. Napoleon believed that the inhabitants of Antommarchi’s part of his homeland were conceited and headstrong. The young man was indeed vain and pompous and, despite his qualifications, quick to misunderstand. His lack of insight into his own professional and personal deficiencies, and his determination to further himself at all cost, meant that he sorely tested the patience of all around him. In Masson’s words, ‘He questioned nothing and considered himself everyone’s equal’. Not only had the Emperor been sent a man who was more trained to perform his post-mortem than to keep him alive, but his new doctor trampled over the precious protocols that he carefully preserved at Longwood.
His loyal servant, Marchand, quickly realised that there was a problem.
It only took me only a few days after Dr Antommarchi’s arrival to judge, if not his medical knowledge, at least his character. Never in his life having approached an eminent and powerful man such as the Emperor, he was ignorant of the ground on which he trod. When he arrived, he discussed the Emperor’s health with me often and, every morning, he asked me about the night’s events. I went so far as to warn him of things which might annoy the Emperor. ‘Be more serious in front of the Emperor,’ I told him. ‘When you answer his questions; and be careful when you speak to Count de Montholon and the Grand Marshal, not to refer to them as Bertrand and Montholon; the Emperor addresses them so but you are not permitted to.’
Antommarchi thanked Marchand for the advice but did not necessarily act upon it.
His behaviour prior to his arrival on St. Helena suggested an unscrupulous side to his character. When his mentor Mascagni died in 1815, he left several posthumous works including Prodromo della Grande Anatomia, a fine collection of anatomical plates which had been produced at great expense. A local society of friends of the arts, including several Englishmen, undertook the task of publishing this great book in conjunction with the Mascagni family. Antommarchi, as a favoured pupil, was entrusted with the checking of the proofs. When he left Florence, he took a few copies of the first edition with him and, by now having assumed the title of ‘Editor’, he was determined to make a personal dedication of the work to the Prince Regent. The learned society in Florence believed him to be taking disproportionate credit, and one of the society’s members, Sir John Webb, thought it necessary to write to the British Government to warn ministers that Antommarchi might be heading for England and that he was up to no good.
The circumstances have led me to inform myself regarding Mr Antommarchi and I have it from reliable sources that he possesses more talent for intrigue than he does medical knowledge … he generally gives the impression of being more capable than he is.
It has been postulated that the Corsican was mentally ill; having ‘some sort of delusional disturbance arising from a sense of persecution – that he was an incipient schizophrenic of the paranoid type’. Diagnoses of mental illness, particularly forms of paranoia, have been suggested for a few of the personalities on St. Helena but there is no need to invoke this in Antommarchi’s case. His failings are too commonplace to require a psychiatric explanation.3
In January 1819, Cardinal Fesch had finally assembled his ‘little caravan for St. Helena’ in Rome. It was made up of Antommarchi, the Corsican priests Buonavita and Vignali, the valet Coursot, and a cook, Chandelier. Vignali, the younger of the two clerics, had attempted a short course of medical study. Fesch hoped that he might also act as Antommarchi’s assistant but this ludicrous suggestion was ignored as the priest proved to be semi-literate, only able to read or write with great difficulty. Their departure from Rome was delayed and the time was used to hold a meeting to discuss Napoleon’s health and particularly to devise a treatment plan which Antommarchi could implement upon his arrival. Scrutinising O’Meara’s medical reports, five eminent professors from the university decided that the Emperor had both a liver disorder and scurvy, a disease caused by a poor diet lacking in vegetables. Antommarchi was not included in the discussions but he received the learned recommendations – ‘the law, the prophesies…’ – from which he was determined not to deviate. A copy was also given to Vignali, a circumstance that considerably annoyed Antommarchi.
In his memoirs, the doctor portrays himself as anxious to reach St. Helena, but Fesch, still convinced that Napoleon was a free man, was in no hurry and the party only left Rome on the first leg of the journey to London on 25th February. They reached the English capital on 19th April, and Antommarchi used his connections with Mascagni and Napoleon to open every door available. He obtained John Stokoe’s medical reports made during January and sought the advice of a number of respected British physicians regarding the most likely illness of his patient; it was agreed that it was probably hepatitis. He took the Mascagni work to Earl Bathurst who promised to pass it on to the Prince Regent. Antommarchi had also paid a visit to O’Meara – this was understandable but it was also bound to raise suspicions. The Corsican claimed that he was under surveillance by the police. The anatomical plates which he intended to take with him to St. Helena were seized by the British authorities and minutely inspected at the Colonial Office. Were the tendons and nerves secret escape routes? Could the lymphatic system be spelling out a secret message in hieroglyphics? Antommarchi tends to exaggerate but his allegations that he was harassed and offered incentives not to proceed to St. Helena are credible.4
A further two and a half months elapsed before the party embarked at Gravesend; Jamestown was reached on 20th September 1819. Their first steps on the island were not auspicious. Cardinal Fesch had neither given the travellers a suitable letter of recommendation nor written to Napoleon about them. After all, he believed the prisoner to have broken his chains. Their decision to first dine with the Governor also created a poor impression at Longwood. Irate at not being given immediate news of his family in Europe, Napoleon initially refused to see any of them, and he ordered Bertrand to give them a grilling. Each had to submit a written statement of their name, age, family background, previous employment and current intentions to the Grand Marshal of the Palace. Only after he had subjected them to the indignity of providing this information did the Emperor deign to see them.5
The decision to attend the Governor before Napoleon was clumsy but it also reflected the reality that it was crucial for the newcomers to form a good relationship with the British authorities. The Corsican doctor must have been aware that Lowe was a prickly character with the capacity to make his life very uncomfortable. What was the attitude of the British Government to Antommarchi? We have seen that he was closely observed while in London but he appears to have convinced ministers that his loyalties were not misplaced. In a letter to Lowe of 12th July 1819, Bathurst advises the Governor to ‘avoid a scene’ with Bonaparte. As for the new arrivals; Buonavita was ‘very harmless’ and ‘The surgeon is reckoned very intelligent but I think will not be disposed to be troublesome, as he is apparently inclined to make advances to the Government by proposing to dedicate the work he is completing to the Prince Regent.’
Antommarchi may have satisfied the Colonial Secretary but his behaviour on the island was not designed to please Lowe. Either out of naivety or cussedness, the doctor railed against the restrictions imposed on all those who resided at Longwood. He airs his various grievances in his memoirs. He especially resented the Governor’s intrusion into what he considered to be his private affairs. Shortly after their arrival on the island, Lowe insisted that the newcomers be searched and that their papers should be examined; this was a sensible precaution to prevent subversive material being smuggled into Longwood. The Governor would have been heavily criticised for not instituting such an elementary security measure if any such effort had later come to light. But Antommarchi is shocke
d: ‘He even has the right to undress us!’
Once in residence at Longwood, he continued to test the Governor’s patience by exploring the limits of the regulations. He accepted with ill grace the stipulation that he be accompanied by a British Officer when entering Jamestown or visiting the British military hospital on the island. In his later writings, he professes to be bewildered by these regulations and resorts to sarcasm. ‘I had to be under the surveillance of an officer because there might have been an uprising among the sick, and a man as belligerent as me was capable of conquering England with a few dying men.’ His illegal excursions brought him into conflict with the troops around Longwood. One evening, just before Christmas 1819, he remained in the wood near the house until long after dark and then attempted to pass the sentry who refused to allow him back in until the Orderly Officer permitted it. This incident culminated in a long letter of complaint from Antommarchi to Lowe in which the doctor claimed that he had been threatened by the sentry and moaned that was being treated as a common criminal. He was out so late simply because he wished to avoid the oppressive heat of the day, ‘… the force of the sun which shoots its rays perpendicularly upon our heads’. In Forsyth’s words, Antommarchi was ‘an apt pupil in the art of grumbling’.
The Governor replied with a placatory letter to the physician, promising to investigate the affair but also expressing surprise that he and the priests had not been made aware of the regulations pertaining to all the exiles. Thomas Reade undertook the enquiry and concluded that the sentry, a soldier of the 66th Regiment, had not threatened to attach his bayonet or charge his firelock but had only told the doctor that it was against his orders to let him pass. Lowe must have hoped that Antommarchi would now adopt a more dignified tone, but he was to be disappointed. The Governor informed Bathurst that Antommarchi had shown ‘a disposition to complain from the outset’. He later noted that the ‘Professor’ appeared better reconciled to his situation but Lowe’s intolerance and Antommarchi’s self-pity were incompatible. When the doctor complained that his rooms were not properly furnished, Gorrequer recalls that the Governor reacted in a ‘violent brutal way’ and that he then ‘kept raving for a while’. A puzzling entry from the secretary’s diary for 15th January 1820 is of little significance in itself but it illustrates perfectly the pettiness of much of the sniping between the occupants of Longwood and Plantation House.
The cunning turn given [by Lowe] to the desire in Foreign Magnesia’s [Antommarchi’s] letter, not to send him pantalons d’été, viz, that this was too cool a climate, when probably it was because he could have them so much cheaper; at the same time mentioning in his dispatch to Big Wig that thermometer never had been, since that Magnesia’s arrival above 71, when it must have been certainly above 74 at least frequently here and at our Neighbour’s [Longwood], and I have no doubt 75 or 76.
With even his choice of pantaloons being questioned, it was unthinkable that Antommarchi could escape a conspicuous role in the Governor’s conspiracy theories. At the end of 1820, we have, again in Gorrequer’s characteristic words, ‘Mach’s observation about the Jack Corse Magnesia [Antommarchi] being vergognoso [abashed] at meeting with Mach, and having a guilty look’. There followed the usual tirade by Lowe, in which the physician was accused of hatching some yet undiscovered plot, possibly involving the exaggeration of Napoleon’s illness.6
It was understandable that Antommarchi should seek society outside the limits of Longwood and natural that he was drawn towards the other doctors on the island, particularly the Anglo-Irish Army and Navy medical staff who were in close proximity. He made a reasonable first impression on Verling who describes him as appearing about thirty years of age and as being ‘rather a gentleman-like man, mild and talkative’. Antommarchi was keen to maintain his professional contact with the artillery surgeon and he urged him to stay on at Longwood. However, when the Corsican tried to socialise with his fellow doctors, he was snubbed.
In early December 1819, he sent out a number of dinner invitations. These were delivered via the Governor’s office. Archibald Arnott pleaded a prior engagement, Matthew Livingstone was unwell, and James Verling had a reason to extricate himself. Walter Henry received a verbal invitation but he too was unable to accept. Either the doctors’ excuses were genuine, or they were averse to spending time with their foreign colleague, or they had been warned off by Lowe. Antommarchi decided it must be the latter and he sent the Governor a stinging letter in which he attributed the surgeons’ refusal to the ‘universal terror impressed on the minds of the inhabitants of this island’. The young physician had his faults but he was observant and not entirely stupid. Lowe rebuked him for his ‘unprovoked and indecorous attack’ and accused him of naivety. ‘You can, Sir, have had no opportunity to trace the real causes which influence the conduct of individuals on this island.’ The affair perturbed the Governor enough for him to relate the details to Bathurst. He concluded his account as follows.
By the letter which was addressed to Dr Antommarchi, dated 4th October, a great facility was afforded him of communication with the medical gentlemen on the island, in matters relating to his own profession. From this moment he appeared to cultivate their acquaintance with great assiduity – and although I saw no objection to the ordinary relations of society between him and them, yet, the attempts to form a particular society with them alone, evidenced a disposition to wander from the principle upon which I had granted each facility for communication with them.
So Antommarchi’s professional contacts were condoned but any attempt by him to befriend the other doctors was viewed with deep suspicion. Lowe may not have actually forbidden the doctors to attend the dinner party but they knew that accepting the invitation would do them little good. From this point on, Antommarchi’s contact with his fellow medics was largely of a professional nature. Livingstone spoke no Italian and found him difficult to communicate with anyway. The Corsican was accompanied by Arnott during his visits to the hospitals and was to become more closely linked with him in the final days of Napoleon’s life. The two men disagreed over the diagnosis of the Emperor’s illness but there was no real antagonism.7
Antommarchi’s plan for a convivial dinner was more likely prompted by boredom than by any ulterior motive. Marchand comments that the young doctor was the man who had most difficulty adjusting to the monotony of life at Longwood. Once the novelty of his situation had worn thin, St. Helena must have been remarkably dull compared with London and Florence. The Emperor urged him to travel around the island and Antommarchi took him at his word, spending long hours exploring on horseback or on foot. His restlessness was such that he was rarely at Longwood but was more likely to be found on the streets of Jamestown or elsewhere. To help relieve the ennui, he also indulged himself in a number of what one Victorian author terms ‘sentimental diversions’.
At first, the other exiles took a sympathetic view of the new arrival. Montholon thought him a ‘fine young man’ whose only problem was that he was ten years too young for his position. Familiarity bred contempt and Montholon’s later opinions are less flattering. He thought the doctor to be frivolous and presumptuous and wrote to his wife that he found Antommarchi’s behaviour inexplicable; ‘Nothing can put him right … the smell of a skirt attracts him so much that he ignores everything else.’ Bertrand also became exasperated with the physician’s immaturity. In early 1821, Antommarchi unnecessarily involved himself in a contretemps between the Grand Marshal and Napoleon – tension had been created by the suggestion that the Countess and the children might leave the island. Bertrand confronted the doctor and recorded his reaction in his journal. ‘Antommarchi then became offensive and called me names. When I asked for an explanation, he refused to say anything further and merely whistled.’8
It was most important for Antommarchi to make himself acceptable to Napoleon. In fairness to the doctor, the Emperor was probably prejudiced against him before his arrival on St. Helena. Despite his apparent isolation, Napoleon was surprisingly wel
l informed and was aware of Antommarchi’s lack of worldliness and real medical experience; it is possible that friends of Fourreau had written letters to the island. His initial contact with the young physician gave him no reason to change his opinion. At their first meeting, the Emperor quizzed Antommarchi about his family in Corsica and his medical studies. He appeared satisfied with the doctor’s replies but he revealed his true thoughts to Bertrand.
I am very unfortunate not to have a doctor … If Madame Mère had spent two, three, or six thousand livres, she could have sent me Vacca or Locatelli [two famed Italian physicians]. Vacca was brought up in France and speaks French. But Antommarchi is uneducated. He is a most unreliable man. He repeats what he hears which is a violation of the first principle of his profession. He puts Madame Bertrand’s back up. If I should say to him: ‘How is the Grand Marshal?’ he would at once repeat it in such a way as to make it sound an insult. Besides, it is his misfortune, poor man, to be an indifferent doctor. Also, he fails to grasp any of the finer points of a conversation, and he doesn’t know French.
The Emperor remarked to Montholon that his family had sent him savages.
Napoleon was driven to distraction by Antommarchi’s unfortunate combination of ignorance and conceit. Walter Henry claims that when the Emperor discovered that he had a better grasp of chemistry than his doctor, he curtly dismissed him from the room, ‘Va-t-en … bête!’ He also exploded when Antommarchi responded to his advice that the doctor should discuss the management of tropical disease on the island with his British colleagues by saying that he knew more than them and that they could tell him nothing. From the French perspective, Antommarchi’s redeeming feature was that he had not been selected by Lowe. Probably mainly for this reason, added to the fact that he had no serious alternative, Napoleon agreed to employ his countryman as his personal doctor. Antommarchi was to reside in O’Meara’s old quarters.9
Napoleon's Poisoned Chalice Page 21
