Poison, Again?

The problem with true conspiracies is that they are intrinsically secret. A truly successful conspiracy will never come to light. Romantics though love a good conspiracy, whether it’s bumping off your man or faking an execution and sprinting away to become an American schoolteacher. Medicine through time is a secondary school topic, What today would be considered medical malpractice was routine. Attitudes to euthanasia were also different, in the days before analgesia and modern palliative care, easing the passing of terminal cases was perhaps mire common than we think. With a controversial figure like Napoleon though, I’d be surprised if there wasn’t at least half a dozen suspected conspiracies. He was surrounded by (and sometimes instigated) intrigue most of his professional life. I would argue that the legend is bigger than the man anyway. Much of that was manufactured and perpetuated by Napoleon in his own lifetime, and by St Helena he really had nothing else left but his legendary status. However, I would say that it has grown and deepened considerably since, fed initially by acolytes, romantics and latterly both professional historians (who should really know better) to amateurs (including the occasional sports goods entrepreneur). What they all have in common is the belief that such an extraordinary man had to have an extraordinary end. The cognitive bias is very strong, even when they claim detachment. To them the much more commonplace incompetence or misfortune is unthinkable. Sad fact is, even extraordinary men routinely die squalid, grubby and ordinary deaths. It frightens us that the same fate awaits us. So it’s the nature of things that we retrospectively manufacture a more acceptable narrative. It’s a form of psychological safety that ultimately says more about us the historian than it does about history. In history, the observer is always part of the system, but this is nowhere more apparent than in conspiracy theories.