Napoleon's Poisoned Chalice

by Dr Martin Howard

  At Portsmouth, in December 1816, Sir Robert Plampin hoisted his flag on the Conqueror. This ship of the line was to take the Admiral to St. Helena in the spring and was not due to return until 1820. Stokoe was offered the post of Surgeon of the vessel and was faced with a life-changing decision. He would very soon be entitled to a retirement pension and there was no doubt that his previous service allowed him to refuse the posting and to remain at home, perhaps serving in a naval hospital. If he still had the urge to travel, he could have reasonably requested a pleasanter station than the isolation of the South Atlantic. He chose St. Helena. ‘I thought’, he says in his memoirs, ‘that I should see the great man and probably have the honour of conversing with him – little did I think at the time that the honour would be so dearly purchased!’

  Having made his decision, the surgeon tried to research his new posting. He scoured the papers in vain. The press had been mostly silenced by the Government. William Warden’s letters were a little more help but they focussed largely on Napoleon’s conversations and gave only a vague picture of life on the island. Other pamphlets purporting to emanate from St. Helena were clearly bogus – most notoriously the Manuscrit venu de Sainte-Hélène d’une manière inconnue. When the Conqueror set sail on 15th March, 1817, St. Helena was an uncertain and mysterious destination. Jamestown harbour was reached on 29th June, well into Napoleon’s second year of captivity.

  Plampin was to replace Pulteney Malcolm, and was to prove much more compliant with Lowe’s wishes than his predecessor. Malcolm had not been deliberately obstructive to the Military Governor but he had harboured rather more sympathy for Napoleon and had operated independently of Lowe to a greater degree than was proper for the Commander-in-Chief of a naval station. In contrast, Plampin was to be putty in Lowe’s hands, moulded to fulfil his every whim. The reason for this change was not simply Plampin’s personality, although this was a factor. Napoleon was unimpressed by the new Admiral, ‘… that little man of some 60 years with a very unpleasant appearance. He resembles one of those vulgar Dutch sailors who are always drunk and whom I have seen in their country, seated at a table, pipe in mouth, with a piece of cheese, and a bottle of gin in front of them.’ Balmain was less unkind but equally dismissive of Plampin; ‘a good man, timid, who wishes to live peacefully and to mix into nothing which does not concern him.’ The Russian Commissioner then adds that, despite this inherent dullness, the Admiral had caused a scandal on the island by bringing with him ‘a lady from London, who, though she uses his name, is only his mistress’. Plampin had severely compromised himself and, if he wanted his life on the island to be tolerable, he was going to need Lowe’s help.

  Stokoe confirms this state of affairs in his memoirs, commenting that all on board were surprised that ‘Mrs Plampin’ joined the ship surreptitiously from the Isle of Wight rather than at Portsmouth as would have been customary for the wife of a senior officer.

  Our suspicions gained strength and were verified on our arrival at St. Helena. There being great lack of feminine society at St. Helena, any new arrival aroused intense interest. No sooner were the officers of the Conqueror seen on the quay at Jamestown that they were plied with questions, one of the first being, ‘Is Admiral Plampin a married man?’ ‘Has he brought his wife out with him?’ Laughing in their sleeves, the officers answered in the affirmative.

  Plampin landed alone and visited the Governor and Lady Lowe but he made no mention of his female companion. The inevitable storm soon burst.

  Its fury was most severe at Plantation House. The ladies who formed the court of the queen of the island were unanimous in the opinion that the Admiral’s conduct was the grossest insult that could possibly be offered them, considering that he was second in rank in the island. They regarded it as the Governor’s duty to punish him severely. The report soon spread from Plantation House that the lady would immediately be sent off the island, that the Admiral would be reported and in all probability recalled. These rumours, no doubt, reached his ears, together with the curious fact that he had been preached at from the pulpit.

  The Reverend Richard Boys, the senior chaplain on St. Helena, had attacked the Admiral in his sermon. It was obvious to Plampin that only Lowe could save him and it seems that a deal was done between the two senior officers. Lowe would protect Plampin from the public disapproval of his social arrangements if Plampin was prepared to give him unconditional support for his own actions. The Admiral, no longer a free agent, brought his mistress ashore and installed her at The Briars. The existence of such a pact between Admiral and Governor is suggested by all Plampin’s subsequent behaviour. Lowe knew that he had him in his pocket. Gorrequer’s diary entry for 20th July, 1818:

  When the order was sent for the removal of Magnesia [O’Meara] and the row about Il Grazzioso [Colonel Lyster] took place, he [Lowe] exclaimed how very fortunate it was that he had little Polyphemes [Plampin] here at the juncture – what trouble he might have had if such a fellow as his predecessor XXX [Malcolm] had been here now.

  The subjugation of Plampin to Lowe meant that O’Meara could expect no help from his naval commander; Plampin referred to the surgeon as a ‘dirty vagabond’ and vowed that he would have nothing to do with him. We can suppose that if Malcolm had remained in post he would have taken a more sympathetic view of the plight of his doctors. Stokoe was not only to lack support from Plampin, but the Admiral was to combine forces with the Governor to bring about his downfall. It may be that Plampin bore a grudge against the doctor before the Conqueror arrived at Jamestown. A footnote in his memoirs reveals that Stokoe refused to sit at the same table as the Admiral’s mistress on the voyage to St. Helena.3

  The Governor’s treaty with the Admiral meant that he could immediately impose harsher restrictions pertaining to the captivity without the danger of interference. Among other edicts, it was directed that naval officers were forbidden to visit Longwood without explicit approval from Plampin. This was a grave disappointment to Stokoe and his comrades as it was unlikely that the Admiral would see any advantage in them visiting Napoleon. Previously it had been customary for a newly arrived military or naval attachment to be presented to the Emperor, but petitions to Plampin brought the predictable response that they were not to be introduced as ‘it was not the wish of Sir Hudson Lowe’.

  Stokoe soon met and befriended O’Meara. This was a dangerous liaison, although it is unlikely that Stokoe initially understood this. Later, as is clear from the transcription of the Lieutenant Reardon inquest alluded to in the previous chapter, he would regret his intimacy with the Irishman, realising that the association had contributed to his troubles. O’Meara partly owed his undoubted popularity to his privileged relationship with Napoleon; he was overwhelmed with questions regarding the Emperor whose allure had only grown with his isolation. Napoleon’s physician dined several times on board the Conqueror and he invited his hosts back to Longwood – Gourgaud makes an allusion to Stokoe sleeping in O’Meara’s quarters. This provided a good excuse to seek the Admiral’s permission to enter the otherwise prohibited zone around Longwood and there was always the possibility of spotting its most important occupant. Stokoe admits that he hoped for a sighting but this was a remote chance as the Emperor had shut himself in his rooms, refusing to exercise in the open.4

  On 10th October, 1817, Stokoe had a stroke of remarkable good luck – at least he thought so at the time.

  O’Meara and I had been walking for some time about the grounds at a considerable distance from the house, when we saw Napoleon come out of the billiard-room, accompanied by Count and Madame de Montholon. After taking a few turns before the house, he seated himself on the steps with Madame de Montholon beside him, and with his back towards us. We approached to the distance of fifty yards and stopped for a minute or two then turned to walk away. The Count came to O’Meara and asked who I was; he returned to Napoleon and came back immediately saying the Emperor would be glad to see me. I was delighted, and yet I felt a dread in approaching the man whose f
ame as a warrior had reached the remotest corner of the earth.

  Although Stokoe does not concede the fact, it seems that the meeting was engineered by the two doctors. They could easily have avoided approaching the Emperor and they had no other reason to loiter only fifty yards away. As previously noted, a regulation dated 4th July 1817 had been issued to every ship’s commander with instruction to disseminate the contents to all on board; this stipulated that not only should no naval officer visit Longwood but also that there was to be no conversation of any sort, upon any subject whatsoever, with any of the prisoners without the Admiral’s permission. Stokoe had a permit allowing his presence at Longwood but this did not nullify the remainder of the restriction. He had now placed himself in a situation where he had either to snub the Emperor or ignore the regulation.

  After some initial awkwardness – Stokoe was unsure whether or not to remove his hat – he spoke with Napoleon in Italian. The relaxed conversation focussed on his previous naval service and his origins in the north of England. The Emperor asked him if he was married, a question that appeared to amuse the French contingent. It later transpired, from O’Meara’s explanation, that there was a widespread rumour on the island that the English doctor was paying a lot of attention to Jane Balcombe, the daughter of the purveyor who supplied Longwood. In truth, he had attended her professionally for a serious illness shortly after his arrival. This exchange led to the bizarre aftermath of Napoleon accosting William Balcombe a few days later, ‘Why have you refused your daughter to the surgeon of the flagship? C’est un brave homme’. The bemused purveyor denied any approach for his daughter’s hand. Napoleon had obviously warmed to Stokoe and he was not alone among his entourage. Gourgaud approvingly refers to him as ‘a very honest man’.

  This feeling was reciprocated. Like most of his countrymen, Stokoe had been conditioned to despise Napoleon but the Emperor’s charisma had completely won him round.

  During the short time I was in the presence of Napoleon, my opinion of his character underwent a complete change. I had formed in my imagination the man I expected to see, but I found him so totally the reverse that I had not been two minutes in conversation before I felt myself as much at my ease as if talking to an equal. I am not ashamed to confess this sudden change with such a friendly feeling towards him that I could have been at that moment his ambassador to Sir Hudson, to plead for a rescinding of those orders that caused him to convert his miserable retreat into a voluntary prison.

  Napoleon had lost little of the personal magnetism that he had used to seduce far more worldly men than the naval surgeon. The two doctors left the Longwood lawn to retire to O’Meara’s apartment where they lamented Britain’s lack of generosity to its fallen enemy. Incidents such as this were bound to fuel Lowe’s suspicions.

  Stokoe called at The Briars the next morning to give an account of the meeting to Plampin. He had no concern that he would be censured; he was permitted to be at Longwood and he had been summoned to speak to the Emperor quite by chance. Plampin took a different view, immediately reminding him of the order forbidding all contact with the Longwood inhabitants. ‘You could quite easily,’ he said, ‘have refused to speak to Bonaparte and you ought to have done so. It is not at all necessary to be polite to the General.’ Having warned Stokoe regarding his ‘improper’ conduct, the Admiral decided to write to the Captain of the Conqueror reminding him and his officers that an invitation to visit O’Meara did not imply permission to be presented to Napoleon and other members of his retinue.

  Stokoe did not help himself with a disarming display of frankness. He had not been on St. Helena long enough to appreciate the Machiavellian nature of the local politics and the real dangers that lurked in the simplest exchanges. Plampin’s mistress was present during the interview and she asked the doctor what he thought of Napoleon. He replied that his opinion had completely changed since his brief meeting. This revelation, much better left unsaid, cannot have improved the Admiral’s temper. Plampin only ever spoke of Britain’s greatest foe in disparaging terms. In almost all other circumstances, this meeting and admonition would have been judged sufficient and the matter left to rest. The exigencies of St. Helena would not permit such a simple denouement and Plampin sent Stokoe on to Lowe to make a further report of the incident. The Governor expressed surprise that he had not seen the surgeon earlier and interrogated him regarding his conversation with Napoleon, particularly asking him which language had been used. When Stokoe replied that he had spoken in Italian, which he had learnt during his service in Sicily, Lowe’s mood worsened. The doctor’s reaction to the Governor could hardly have contrasted more with his first impression of Napoleon.

  This interview fully confirmed in my mind the justice of the opinion entertained of him at Palermo, and I quitted him with mingled feelings of contempt and disgust, as well as sorrow that such a man had been chosen for so important a command. Every transaction connected with his illustrious charge would be judged by the conduct of one man, and he unworthy of the name of an Englishman.5

  The surgeon had committed the unpardonable sin of ruffling the Governor’s feathers but, provided that he complied with regulations, there was no reason for future confrontation. He managed to keep a low profile until July 1818. At this time, Napoleon’s health was starting to give O’Meara serious cause for concern. He believed the Emperor’s ‘hepatitis’ to be progressing. Accordingly, he tried to persuade Napoleon to see another doctor in addition to himself and suggested either Baxter or Stokoe. The former remained repugnant to the Emperor but, after some prevarication, he authorised O’Meara to send for the surgeon of the Conqueror. O’Meara relates his attempts to gain his colleague’s help in a note to Gorrequer dated 10th July.

  I wrote him [Stokoe] a letter on the spot, and awoke Captain Blakeney [the Orderly Officer at Longwood] in order to have it sent and to procure him a pass. Since that time, I have seen him [Napoleon] three times and have found considerable debility to prevail. Mr Stokoe, came up about three o’clock, not with a view of entering into a consultation, or seeing Napoleon Bonaparte, but to excuse himself upon the plea of the responsibility being too great, and not wishing to run the risk of getting himself into any scrapes.

  Stokoe was no longer under any illusion as to the risk attached to social or professional contact with Napoleon. Prior to discussing the matter with O’Meara, he had already begged Plampin to allow him to refuse the request. The Admiral was non-committal, indeed unhelpful, neither commanding Stokoe’s attendance nor forbidding it. Stokoe was, however, informed that any ‘blame’ that resulted from his not consulting at Longwood would be his responsibility alone. In conversation with O’Meara, he explained his diffidence.

  I told him that he must be well aware of the delicate position in which the request had placed me. I was known to be his friend. His quarrel with the Governor and the latter’s disbelief in his report of the patient’s declining health were also known … This state of things prevented me from visiting the General with him alone, for, if I did so, and coincided in his opinion, the Governor would immediately say: ‘Oh, so Stokoe is a friend of O’Meara’s and is biased by his opinion’.

  O’Meara, unable to persuade Stokoe, informed Napoleon. Bertrand then appeared, clearly irritated by Stokoe’s refusal. When the doctor tried to explain his reluctance, the Grand Marshal interrupted him, saying, ‘No, no, sir, it is only an additional proof of the tyranny to which we are exposed.’ The Longwood retinue were not in doubt as to why the English doctor was so reticent to attend their master. In his journal, Bertrand notes that Stokoe had said to him that he was already suspected by the Governor who was ‘behind him’. The doctor could feel the knife in his back.

  Lowe was meanwhile writing to Montholon (12th July) restating his case that the Emperor could employ ‘the assistance of Mr Baxter or any other medical person on this island’. He made it quite clear that Baxter was his preferred choice. With regard to Stokoe, he declared himself mystified by the surgeon’s reluctance to
answer the call. On the following day, Stokoe was required to present himself at the office of Sir Thomas Reade. Lowe entered the room. ‘Mr Stokoe, I cannot convince those people at Longwood that I did not influence you in your refusal to see General Bonaparte the other day, and I wish you to state to me particularly your reasons for having done so.’ The doctor could hardly share his real concerns with the Governor and he confined himself to saying that he was very unwilling to go to Longwood without the assistance of other medical men as the case was a complex one. Lowe asked him to restate this in a letter to the Admiral but he added that he would like to see it before it was sent. The doctor penned a short note confirming that he did not want to take on such responsibility alone and closed it with the following statement, ‘I should be happy to share it with any other medical man who might be permitted to see him.’

  Stokoe returned to Lowe, who he found alone. The Governor read the letter but seemed not to approve of it. He took his pen and wrote himself that he had questioned Stokoe regarding his actions and that the surgeon objected to going to Longwood but, if obliged to do so, he would prefer to visit the General with other medical men, ‘excluding his private attendant’. At this point, Stokoe, who was looking over Lowe’s shoulder, inferred that this was a premeditated attempt to slur O’Meara by implying that Stokoe was unwilling to consult with him. He therefore requested that Lowe omit the words alluding to the ‘private attendant’, which the Governor did with ill grace, not bothering to finish the letter. He then, according to Stokoe, threw his pen down and left the room in a rage, exclaiming, ‘You can send your letter, sir.’ This behaviour is in keeping with Gorrequer’s descriptions of the Governor’s evil temper but it is not certain that Lowe was trying to manipulate the situation. He may have been conspiring to use Stokoe against his colleague but, equally, it may have been an innocent attempt to clarify an ambiguity in Stokoe’s letter to Plampin in which he asked for another doctor to attend with him but made no specific allusion to the role of O’Meara. Nevertheless, Stokoe strongly suspected that Lowe was plotting against O’Meara and the recall of his friend to England shortly afterwards was only likely to convince him of this.6