Napoleon's Poisoned Chalice

by Dr Martin Howard

  Very well, let him spend all his time with his whores,’ Napoleon said. ‘Qu’il les foute par devant, par derrière, par la bouche et les oreilles, but get rid of that man for me, he is stupid, ignorant, pretentious, and utterly devoid of any sense of honour … I’ll have no more of Antommarchi … I have made my will: in it I have left Antommarchi twenty francs to buy himself a length of rope with which to hang himself.

  The Emperor repeated five or six times that Madame Bertrand was a whore and again slated Antommarchi for never being available when he was needed. After the shaken doctor had left, Napoleon informed Bertrand, in front of Marchand and Saint-Denis, that he was wrong to allow his wife to be Antommarchi’s lover. The Grand Marshal listened to this obscene drivel without comment.

  Antommarchi later informed Bertrand that he was not prepared to remain in his room for long periods and that he would not act as a ‘nurse’. He had decided to leave St. Helena and he was going to Plantation House to request permission whether Napoleon liked it or not. When he informed Lowe of his wishes, the Governor was unenthusiastic, expressing his regret that Antommarchi was not able to continue his work with Arnott’s help. The physician protested that he was in complete accord with his colleague and that the problem was the Emperor himself, who treated his doctor as a menial and abused him. Lowe replied, ‘But Signor Professor, it is necessary always to consider the temperament of the patient and circumstances of the case.’ Unimpressed by this insight, Antommarchi again begged to be allowed to leave but the Governor stalled, commenting that the matter required careful deliberation and that he would have to refer it to England. The doctor returned to Longwood where he lied to Bertrand that he had the approval he required.

  Napoleon’s violent rages were often followed by a desire for instant reconciliation. As soon as he had tired of insulting Madame Bertrand, he suddenly declared to her husband that he wished Antommarchi to continue to attend him; indeed, he ordered it. The Grand Marshal and Count were by now well used to these paroxysmal changes of mood and, after some cajoling and exhortations that he show a little more devotion, Antommarchi was once more brought back into the fold. Keen to maintain the status quo, the Grand Marshal defended the physician, pointing out to Napoleon that he had attended him several times in the night and that he had only overslept because his Chinese boy had forgotten to wake him at six. Bertrand, who must have been distressed himself, explained that the doctor had been particularly upset by the invitation to buy some rope to hang himself. ‘He has been in a great hurry,’ replied Napoleon.16

  The Emperor may have resigned himself to Antommarchi’s presence but he was ever vigilant, suspecting new malpractice by his doctor. The patient was ill and tetchy and the young man’s clumsy manners were the perfect catalyst for his temper. When Napoleon gave Vignali instructions that he wished to be treated as a Catholic at the end of his life, Marchand and Antommarchi witnessed the scene. Suddenly, the ill man noticed that his doctor was smiling and he sent him from the room with an admonition for being heartless. ‘Has anyone been worse cared for than me by him?’ he asked his valet. On another occasion, Antommarchi was unable to suppress a laugh when Napoleon presented a book to Arnott with an expression of his admiration for ‘brave men of all nations’. The Emperor shot him a disapproving glance and, on the following day, attacked him again for his incivility. The physician squirmed and made the feeble excuse that he had been reminded of a childhood nursery rhyme. There were also rumours that Antommarchi was being indiscreet, making irreverent comments regarding his patient’s toilet to the Longwood servants. Napoleon took the matter seriously enough to force the doctor to sign a declaration that he would repeat nothing of what he heard or saw during his consultations.

  It is remarkable that Napoleon tolerated Antommarchi right up to the end. Marchand notes that his master had a ‘habitual spirit of generosity which allowed him to forgive’; this attribute was sorely tested by his countryman. Although Antommarchi was not banished, in the last few weeks of his life the Emperor increasingly looked to others, notably Arnott. He was also sidelined by his medical peers. He was allowed to accompany the regimental surgeon to the patient’s room but when, on 21st April, Arnott consulted with two other British doctors as to the best course of action, the Corsican was excluded.17

  Napoleon had only two weeks to live. Probably feeling remorse at his earlier behaviour, Antommarchi moved his bed to the library next to the Emperor’s room, keeping a constant vigil. Montholon and Bertrand, not for the first time, pleaded with the dying man to allow his physician to attend him. He relented with ill grace. ‘What am I to do? He may not possess a bad soul but he is an imbecile.’ On the 26th he offered his arm to Antommarchi for the first time in several days. By the following day, the doctor’s rehabilitation appeared complete as the Emperor, detecting the regret in his face, was suddenly friendly towards him. ‘You will be pleased with what I do for you … I shall leave you 100,000 francs and I shall recommend you to the Empress.’ Marchand witnessed Antommarchi’s profound appreciation.

  As the Emperor’s energy ebbed away, he became less lucid and more inconsistent in his demands. On the 29th, he angrily refused Montholon’s attempts to call Antommarchi. The physician was then allowed back at the death bed with Arnott. Saint-Denis describes the scene.

  The two doctors, the Grand Marshall, General de Montholon, Marchand, the members of the household were ranged in great part before the bed, and some on the opposite side; they all had their eyes fixed on the Emperor’s face, which had no other movement than the spasmodic motion given by the hiccoughs. It was Antommarchi who, standing by the head of the bed, gave him a little water to moisten his mouth, first with a spoon, then with a sponge. He would frequently feel the Emperor’s pulse, either at his wrist or at the jugular vein [in the neck].

  Montholon claims that, in his last moments, Napoleon preferred that he should wet his lips and not the doctor. When the Emperor died on 5th May, it was Antommarchi who closed his eyes.18

  The death of his patient did not mark the end of Antommarchi’s part. He was embroiled both in the post-mortem and in the creation of a death mask. He departed the island on 13th May 1821. Napoleon’s final judgement on the only non-British doctor to tend him during his exile was contained in his will. This was dictated to Montholon and completed in mid April. To the members of his household, he left the following: Montholon 2,000,000 francs; Bertrand 500,000; Marchand 400,000; Saint-Denis, Noverraz, Pierron, Vignali 100,000 each; Archambault 50,000; Coursot and Chandelier 25,000. The only Longwood resident to receive nothing was Antommarchi.

  As he lay on his death bed, Napoleon continued to think over his legacy and he made a number of codicils involving additional bequests. One of these was a recommendation to Marie-Louise to pay Antommarchi a pension of 6,000 francs. This was a concession to the doctor but it was still a snub when one considers that Vignali, the uneducated priest who arrived on the island at the same time as Antommarchi, had received a lump sum of 100,000 francs. The will and the additional codicils proved difficult to enact as the Emperor had made promises beyond the funds available to his banker Laffitte. The decision of the arbitrators, made two years after Napoleon’s death, was that the sum should be divided up with varying reductions; the Longwood domestics were paid almost in full and most others around two thirds of the original amount.

  Antommarchi had not forgotten the Emperor’s promise to award him 100,000 francs and he obtained a note from the executors of the will – Montholon, Bertrand and Marchand – confirming that the verbal offer had been made. As even those included in the formal will were not in receipt of the amounts specified, Antommarchi was fighting a lost cause and he neither received any lump sum nor any pension from Marie-Louise. His only reward was expenses to allow his return to Tuscany and a smaller pension of 5,000 francs payable annually from the remaining Laffitte funds. He had obtained something but his ambition to leave St. Helena a rich man had been dashed.19

  This was not the end of his misfor
tune. On his return to Europe, he was immediately in conflict with Mascagni’s family who believed that he had no right to publish the Grande Anatomia. Its appearance brought him further criticism. The death mask of the Emperor that he claimed to have fashioned on St. Helena was thought to be either a fake or of poor quality. Depressed by the failure of his various projects, he sought a way out by volunteering his medical services to the forces of the Polish Insurrection in 1831. He was appointed Head Surgeon in a hospital for officers and then Inspector General of Military Hospitals in Warsaw but he soon quarrelled with his Polish surgical colleagues and with the Medical Faculty and his resignation was promptly accepted. After an unsuccessful period in Paris, he left for America in 1836 to seek his elusive fortune and he died at Santiago in Cuba two years later at the age of forty nine.

  Antommarchi’s reputation was tainted and the obituaries and subsequent biographical entries were not kind. Some of the press was unfair. In Hoefer’s Biographie Générale it is insinuated that two of the works that he was supposed to have written, one on cholera and the second on lymphatic vessels, had never been seen. More recent research has shown that these writings do exist. To a large degree, Antommarchi contributed to his poor reputation by leaving an account of his experiences on St. Helena – Les derniers moments de Napoléon of 1825 – which was conceited and dishonest. It is uncertain whether the book was actually written on the island or produced from notes that were edited following his return to Europe. The account is confusing, often given with no reference to chronology. There is general agreement that it is a very poor historical record. Philippe Gonnard comments acidly that ‘It is impossible to put much faith in a witness who does not appear very intelligent and has so little regard for the truth.’ Masson dismisses the book as ‘pure fiction’ and Lord Roseberry describes it as ‘worthless and mendacious’.

  The only consistent theme in the work is Antommarchi’s determination to portray himself in the best possible light. With his innate love of theatrical effect, he alternates contrived monologues with flowery prose. There are innumerable discrepancies with other more reliable contemporary accounts. It is strange that during the periods when Napoleon refused to see him, the doctor is nonetheless able to give a detailed relation of the progress of the disease and the conversations of the patient. Gonnard generously suggests that Antommarchi had muddled up his dates. This does not excuse the frequent omissions of fact. Among the tedious record of the single-minded devotion of the author and the unceasing gratitude of his patient, there is nothing of the arguments with Napoleon nor of his attempts to leave his employment. On a day on which it is well documented that the Emperor refused to see Antommarchi, the physician blithely informs us that the patient accepted one of his remedies with the words, ‘You can measure by my resignation the gratitude I feel for you.’

  Napoleon was very likely resigned to his fate; Antommarchi was crass enough to interpret this as a sign of gratitude and dishonest enough to insert words into the Emperor’s mouth. To pad out his work to two volumes, he also borrowed from the writings of others, notably from O’Meara and Las Cases. Antommarchi’s book was not a great success at the time and it is rarely quoted now. In using the doctor’s own writings sparingly in telling his story, I have followed Gonnard’s pithy advice: ‘The historian need not therefore count on Antommarchi’s book for obtaining any information.'20

  Notes

  1. Masson, F, Autour de Sainte-Hélène, Vol. III, pp. 214–232; Forsyth, W, History of the Captivity of Napoleon, Vol. I, p. 628; Young, N, Napoleon in Exile, Vol. II, pp. 166–9; Ganière, P, Napoléon à Sainte-Hélène: La Mort de L’Empereur L’Apothéose, pp. 80–1; Korngold, R, The Last Years of Napoleon, p. 346; Paoli, F, Le Dr Antommarchi ou le Secret du Masque de Napoléon, pp. 86–8.

  2. Young, Vol. II, p. 167; Paoli, pp. 56–60, 67–72; Chaplin, A, A St. Helena Who’s Who, pp. 49–50.

  3. Masson, Vol. III, pp. 230–1; Bertrand, Général, Cahiers de Sainte-Hélène, p. 397; Glover, G, Wellington’s Lieutenant Napoleon’s Gaoler, p. 288; Young, Vol. II, p. 167; Gonnard, P, The Exile of St. Helena, pp. 108–9; Marchand, Mémoires de Marchand, Vol. II, pp. 300-1; Masson, F, Napoleon at St. Helena, pp. 89–90; Richardson, F, Napoleon’s Death: An Inquest, p. 147; Kemble, J, Napoleon Immortal, pp. 248–9; Henry, W, Trifles from my Portfolio, Vol. II, p. 4.

  4. Young, Vol. II, p. 169; Masson, Autour de Sainte-Hélène, Vol. III, pp. 232–3; Antommarchi, F, Les Derniers Moments de Napoléon, Vol. I, pp. 11–14, 23–33; Richardson, p. 148.

  5. Paoli, p. 99; Ganière, p. 87; Masson, Autour de Sainte-Hélène, p. 234; Young, Vol. II, p. 171.

  6. Forsyth, Vol. II, pp. 630, 93, 83–4; Antommarchi, Vol. I, pp. 56, 107–8, 239; Bertrand, pp. 402–4; Markham, JD, Napoleon and Dr Verling on St. Helena, p. 159; Gorrequer, Major G, St. Helena during Napoleon’s Exile, pp. 142, 155, 187.

  7. Markham, pp. 99–100; Lowe Papers 20128 ff. 491–4; Forsyth, Vol. II, pp. 93–4; Kemble, p. 250; Korngold, p. 389.

  8. Marchand, Vol. II, pp. 279–80; Masson, Autour de Sainte-Hélène, Vol. III, p. 238; Montholon, CJT de, Récits de la Captivité, Vol. II, pp. 428, 360, 482–3; Gonnard, p. 108; Montholon, Comte de, Lettres du Comte et de la Comtesse de Montholon, p. 78; Bertrand, General, Napoleon at St. Helena, p. 1.

  9. Paoli, p. 99; Bertrand, Napoleon at St. Helena, p. 33; Montholon, Lettres du Comte et de la Comtesse de Montholon, p. 61; Richardson, pp. 147–8; Henry, W, Surgeon Henry’s Trifles, p. 178; St. Denis, LE, Napoleon from the Tuileries to St. Helena, p. 258; Bertrand, Cahiers de Sainte-Hélène, p. 398; Marchand, Vol. II, p. 234.

  10. Lowe Papers 20145 ff. 34, 82; Young, Vol. II, pp.177–87; Korngold, p. 349; Masson, Autour de Sainte-Hélène, Vol. III, p. 237.

  11. Marchand, Vol. II, p. 280; Young, Vol. II, p. 189; St. Denis, pp. 258–60; Lutyens, E, Letters of Captain Engelbert Lutyens, p. 74.

  12. Kemble, pp. 258–61; Bertrand, Napoleon at St. Helena, p. 20; Montholon, Récits de la Captivité, Vol. II, pp. 479–82; Masson, Autour de Sainte-Hélène, Vol. III, pp. 241–2.

  13. Bertrand, Napoleon at St. Helena, pp. 20, 35–7; Montholon, Récits de la Captivité, Vol. II, pp. 482–3.

  14. Montholon, Lettres du Comte et de la Comtesse de Montholon, p. 75; Montholon, Récits de la Captivité, Vol. II, pp. 488–9; Ganière, pp. 152–3; Kemble, p. 260; Antommarchi, Vol. II, pp. 28–9; Young, Vol. II, p. 207.

  15. Richardson, F, p. 151; Roseberry, Lord, Napoleon The Last Phase, p. 24; Montholon, Récits de la Captivité, Vol. II, pp. 490–9; Marchand, Vol. II, pp. 288–9.

  16. Lutyens, p. 104; Young, Vol. II, pp. 210–14; Kemble, pp. 262–3; Bertrand, Napoleon at St. Helena, pp. 148–52, 218; Paoli, p. 152; Forsyth, Vol. II, p.15; Korngold, pp. 375–7.

  17. Marchand, Vol. II, pp. 309–10; Masson, Autour de Sainte-Hélène, Vol. III, pp. 249–50; Montholon, Récits de la Captivité, Vol. II, 516; Roseberry, p. 25.

  18. Roseberry, p. 26; Marchand, Vol. II, p. 313; Masson, Autour de Sainte-Hélène, Vol. III, pp. 252–3; St. Denis, pp. 273–7; Montholon, Récits de la Captivité, Vol. II, p. 549.

  19. Young, Vol. II, pp. 278–96; Paoli, p. 189; Gonnard, p. 106; Antommarchi, Vol. II, pp. 144–6, 155–65; Masson, Autour de Sainte-Hélène, Vol. III, pp. 255–6.

  20. Gonnard, pp. 106–11; Roseberry, pp. 26–7; Chaplin, A, The Illness and Death of Napoleon Bonaparte, pp. 24–5; Masson, Napoleon at St. Helena, p. xvii.

  8

  A MISTAKEN DIAGNOSIS

  Gideon Gorrequer was in the habit of dining with Sir Hudson and Lady Lowe. The Governor’s wife, engagingly referred to as ‘Sultana’ by the secretary in his secret diary, was well known for speaking her mind.

  He [Lowe] broke out at pratzo [dinner], before Sultana, observing Longwood had been fatal to all medici [doctors], Sultana observing ‘Yes, to four viz: O’Meara, Stokoe, Verling,’ and adding, ‘Dr Baxter fell away in disgrace at least with you.’

  Baxter had shown the Governor unswerving loyalty in all his schemes but the relationship between
the two men soured with time. The long-suffering doctor was unable to tolerate Lowe’s moods indefinitely and matters had come to a head in April 1819 when he summoned up enough courage to berate the Governor for compromising his reputation and overlooking him for promotion. Baxter complained that his name had been slandered because of the part he had been forced to play in the O’Meara medical bulletins. Lowe retorted that if his senior doctor were to be suddenly sent home, ministers would want to ask him a lot of questions when he reached England. The doctor ignored the veiled threat and said that he planned a peaceful retirement and that, anyway, he knew nothing of what had passed on the island. Baxter left St. Helena for England with a detachment of the 66th Regiment only a few days later but the resentment simmered on. Gorrequer records the Governor abusing the doctor and Reade chipping in that he would ‘repent all his life going away’. According to family legend, Baxter remembered Lowe as a good man but a ‘rough diamond’.1

  Baxter was never acceptable to the French as Napoleon’s physician. The Scotsman is maligned in all the Longwood memoirs although much of this was not personal. Whilst he accused him of being a spy and a poisoner, Napoleon admitted to O’Meara that he believed his reassurance that Baxter was an upright man; he would never allow the doctor to treat him because he had been imposed by Lowe. With other candidates for the post – men such as O’Meara, Stokoe, and Verling – all gone from St. Helena, in the early months of 1821 it was far from clear who the Emperor would be able to turn to if his disease continued to advance and Antommarchi remained useless. There were, however, a number of competent doctors still on the island, notably the experienced British army surgeons attached to the regiments of the garrison. One of them was to play a controversial part in the last month of Napoleon’s life.