'Nothing can be more desolate', Dr Barry O'Meara, private surgeon to Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte on St Helena, 1815.
In 1814, the Empire of Napoleon had come crumbling down following a disastrous military campaign in Russia, followed by a series of somewhat successful tactical retreats through Germany. In the end, Napoleon was pressured by his own confidants to accept abdication for the sake of France herself. The result was exile to the small Mediterranean island of Elba off the coast of Italy, incredibly close to where his career had begun decades ago in Corsica.
This exile was short lived though, when he laid witness to the nightmare that was the Bourbon Restoration and the rapacious reparations being extolled by the allied coalition. Napoleon saw an opportunity and seized it, thus beginning the 100 days campaign whereby he retook his place as Emperor of France, rallying the people behind his banner yet again. In 1815, the Battle of Waterloo decided the fate of the Napoleonic era – a coalition of British and Prussian troops defeated Napoleons army for the last time, and again, the Emperor had to accept abdication and exile.
How though, did a naval surgeon from Newtown on Sea (now known as Blackrock) come to serve as one of the principal sources of Napoleons final years on St Helena? After a career as a naval surgeon in the Royal Navy, fighting ‘in Sicily, Egypt and…the West Indies’ his future was uncertain. But as the war came to a close and Napoleon had surrendered himself to the British, Doctor Barry O’Meara was serving as Senior Surgeon aboard the Bellerophon, the ship which Napoleon would surrender himself to. It is here that Dr O’Meara and the Emperor first come into contact.
O’Meara stood out for his ability to speak fluent French and Italian in a brief conversation about the practice of medicine and O’Meara’s military experience. From this exchange on, the Emperor would recognise and acknowledge O’Meara – and when one of Napoleon’s aides became ill, O’Meara was visiting often to treat him and through the frequent conversations a level of rapport and trust was established.
The Emperor, rather optimistically, asked for an estate somewhere between Oxford and London, where he could live out the rest of his days reading. This of course would not do; it was deemed that keeping him anywhere within reach of the European continent would leave things too open to a further revival and fanfare for the personality cult which had developed around Napoleon. He had evaded exile once, and the rulers of Europe were determined to avoid a repeat
The new location would be that of St Helena, an outpost in the South Atlantic, used by ships for fresh water stops on their route to and from India. The Duke of Wellington made the recommendation, having stopped off on his return from India nearly 15 years previous. The Duke failed to mention the scarce liveable conditions on St Helena – a near barren Island, surrounded by sheer cliffs comprised of magma formations, creating this black jut of land in the middle of an endless ocean.
When Napoleon was informed of his fate, being exiled to a rock in the middle of nowhere, he realised his private surgeon would not be able to go. The man had barely survived the trip to England from France and a three-month journey to St Helena would certainly have killed him. Napoleon personally requested that Dr O’Meara accompany him to St Helena as his private surgeon. It was a request that O’Meara, a young naval surgeon, unsure of his future in a time of peace and eager for adventure jumped at. The only condition O’Meara set was that he would serve in his capacity as a doctor, not a spy for the British.
After 3 months at sea, Dr O’Meara records the shock of many of the travellers upon first sighting St Helena after their long voyage on 15th October 1815:
‘We arrived at St Helena, on the 15th October. Nothing can be more desolate than the appearance of the exterior of the island.’
Upon landing and becoming more accustomed with the interior of the island O’Meara’s assessment was not much better than the appearance alone. Like most tropical stations the island was an incredibly unhealthy place to live. O’Meara observed that it was ‘so unfavourable to longevity that very few persons pass their 45th year.’
O’Meara shared a room in the complex called Longwood where Napoleon and all of his allies now lived and were largely restricted to. He often joined the group for dinners, helping to break the silence which often plagued the dinner parties. On the 16th April 1816 he was again invited and prompted by Napoleon to begin writing a diary of events on St Helena:
‘Dr O’Meara, you must write your diary’.
‘That is very generous of you, your Excellency – but why should I write such a diary?’
‘Because, my good friend – it will make you a fortune! Promise me, however – you will not publish your work until I am dead.’
‘I am flattered and greatly honoured your Excellency. Yes. I will do so. I will even start this evening, and yes, I promise, I will not publish this work until you are dead.’
Thus began one of the worlds most detailed accounts of life on St Helena. There exist various accounts from various perspectives including that of Sir Hudson Lowe, the Islands governor. But what we get from O’Meara’s accounts are the day-to-day habits, routines, and musings of Europe’s erstwhile Emperor, now simply Emperor of Longwood, a miniscule plot of land in the middle of a desolate rock in the South Atlantic.
It is in this diary that we come to understand not just so much about Napoleon as a person, but also the position which O’Meara found himself. He was by and large in between a rock and a hard place. He had the confidence of the Emperor and the disdain of the Governor to contend with. Hudson Lowe was a paranoid and pernicious Governor, worried about plots to free Napoleon, refusing to believe O’Meara when he reported any kind of illness. Lowe grew infuriated with having to use Dr O’Meara as a go-between in order to communicate with Napoleon and set out to have O’Meara dismissed from St Helena.
Through O’Meara’s diary, one can see this relationship evolve over the course of three years, deteriorating rapidly in 1817-18 eventually resulting in the admiralty recalling Dr O’Meara to Britain:
‘Well Doctor, you are leaving us…Unfortunately you are only a lieutenant, subject to the arbitrariness of military discipline and do not have the independence to help me. However, I thank you for your care. Leave as quickly as possible this place of shadows; I will die here, in this miserable hut, eaten with disease and without help; and your country will be dishonoured forever.’
The dramatic pessimism on show here is something demonstrated by Napoleon several times in O’Meara’s diary.
For example, in December 1816, when struck by sickness, the Emperor stated:
‘I had a nervous attack last night with a severe headache…I verily thought and hoped that a more violent attack would have carried me off before morning’
And again in August 1817 he claimed:
‘It would have been more humane to have had me shot on the Bellerophon than to have condemned me to be exiled to such a rock as this’.
Hudson Lowe was successful in his attempts to remove O’Meara but Napoleons health took a sharp turn for the worst in the meantime, in June 1818. Dr O’Meara received a letter 25th July 1818 that he was to cease all involvement with Longwood:
‘I was to have no more interviews with the inhabitants. I was to leave immediately on receiving the letter without any further communication…Humanity and the duties of my profession forbade compliance’.
Dr O’Meara visited Napoleon one last time, advising him on what medications to continue taking and regiments to follow to ease his bouts of sickness. The Emperor’s parting words were short but solemn, ‘Adieu, O’Meara, we will not meet again. Be Happy’.
Napoleon’s health suffered greatly from 1818 onwards and he began a steady decline towards death. In O’Meara, Napoleon not only lost his private surgeon he had also lost a great friend whom he trusted, perhaps more than anyone else. This is perhaps indicated in a way not known through O’Meara’s diary, but rather the analysis of Napoleons hair, over 150 years later.
According to Dr Hubert O’Connor, Napoleon had developed acute paranoia for poisoning and had adopted a practice of micro-dosing arsenic so as to avoid any serious ailments if such an attempt was made on his life. The amount of arsenic in Napoleons system was highest when he arrived on the Island in 1815, and their lowest in the years 1817-18. There is subsequently a sudden rise, following the forced removal of Dr O’Meara back to Britain.
What can be drawn from this? It seems that the level of trust between Napoleon and O’Meara was much greater than perhaps Dr O’Meara had ever even considered. Once he left St Helena Napoleon refused to be treated by his replacement and perhaps even began to consume higher doses of arsenic than ever before. An indication of this is that he had consumed the poison on no fewer than 21 occasions in the final year of his life. Also, the fact that Napoleons ‘official’ cause of death was stomach cancer, can be no mistake. It can be argued that this paranoia was abated in the presence of a man, a doctor, a friend the Emperor trusted more than anyone else around him.
Further Reading:
Dr Hubert O’Connor, The Emperor and the Irishman (Dublin, 2008).
Adam Zamoyski, Napoleon: Chapter 44: A Crown of Thorns (London, 2018)
Barry E. O’Meara, Napoleon in exile; or, a voice from St. Helena : the opinions and reflections of Napoleon on the most important events of his life and government, in his own words (London, 1822), https://wellcomecollection.org/works/g895gu8j/items?canvas=9