The Propaganda War
As Napoleon languished in exile on the remote island of St. Helena, a fierce battle was raging—not on the battlefield, but in the court of public opinion. The British press was locked in a running battle with their French counterparts, each side determined to shape the narrative around the fallen emperor’s captivity.
The Times, a staunchly conservative mouthpiece, painted Napoleon as a despicable tyrant, demanding his “dishonourable death by hanging.” But the radical journalist William Hone fired back, accusing the paper’s editor, John Stoddart, of being seduced by “simple epithets and easy invectives.” Meanwhile, French royalist newspapers like La Quotidienne insisted that Napoleon’s death was the result of a hereditary illness, not the island’s harsh climate.
“Stoddart’s vindictive editorials led to a riposte by the radical journalist William Hone, who published a pamphlet called Buonaparte-phobia ou La malédiction rendue facile (Buonaparte-phobia or the curse made easy), in which he accused Stoddart of being seduced by simple epithets and easy invectives.”
The battle lines were drawn, with each side trying to control the public’s perception of Napoleon—whether as a monstrous despot or a tragic, misunderstood hero.
Poisoned Chalice
As if the war of words wasn’t enough, rumours of foul play soon began to swirl. Whispers of Napoleon being poisoned by his British captors spread like wildfire, fueled by the conflicting medical reports on the cause of his death.
The French royalist press seized on the autopsy findings, insisting that Napoleon’s liver was healthy and that cancer, not the island’s climate, was to blame. But the British doctors present painted a different picture, describing his stomach as being in a “horrible state” and riddled with cancerous growths.
“For the English doctors present at the autopsy, there was no ambiguity about the cause of death; it was the ‘diseased state of the stomach’… There was disagreement, however, over whether the liver was ‘enlarged’ or not.”
The battle over Napoleon’s legacy had become a battle over his very body, with each side trying to shape the narrative to suit their political agenda.
The Martyr’s Mantle
Even in death, Napoleon could not escape the relentless propaganda war. As his body was transported back to France for a grand state funeral, the streets of Paris erupted in a mix of adulation and dissent.
Some wept openly at the sight of the coffin, while others shouted “Down with the traitors!” The government-aligned press claimed the crowds were calm and orderly, but opposition newspapers told a different story.
“Eyewitness accounts describe the emotion of the ‘common people’… At least one witness saw part of the crowd ‘breaking down and sob’ when the funeral chariot approached, while women made the sign of the cross ‘as if God had come down from Calvary and was about to be resurrected before them.'”
In death, as in life, Napoleon had become a blank canvas onto which the French people could project their hopes, fears, and political allegiances. The battle for his legacy would rage on long after the last echoes of “Vive l’Empereur!” had faded away.
So, what other secrets might be lurking in the archives, waiting to be uncovered? The story of Napoleon’s exile on St. Helena is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the power of image and propaganda in shaping historical narratives.
