Driving on Dartmoor, along an unfenced road over green hills and dales broken by granite outcrops and tors, I occasionally had to stop the vehicle to let cattle cross. Grazing on the slopes were small, spry Dartmoor ponies and horses, and black-faced sheep so heavy with wool they looked like wheelbarrows. At last, at dusk, Princetown appeared on the horizon, at 1400 feet (430 metres) above sea level the highest town in England. From a distance the vast granite prison dominated, dramatic, grey and forbidding. As I drove closer it loomed, even more massive than I had expected: five huge four-storey buildings with tall square chimneys, radiating out from a central core and encircled by a high perimeter double wall.
This great penitentiary, still in operation, the small town that serviced it and the inn where I had booked a room were all the creations of Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt. This was the other side of the amiable little courtier dubbed ‘our little red dwarf ’ by the royal family: this was Tyrwhitt the visionary, the builder, the ambitious entrepreneur.
Sir Thomas realised that his protégé was in critical danger of arrest and imprisonment. If it was deemed that he had assisted Bonaparte in an escape attempt, he could face a charge of treason, for which the penalty was death. Tyrwhitt could not save him if it came to that. He thought it wise for Balcombe to lay low, away from London, and remove himself from his associates, O’Meara and Holmes.
The Balcombes, with their two servants, settled in to Tyrwhitt’s country house, Tor Royal, outside the village of Princetown. Although not grand, it was a very large country house for Dartmoor, with a two-storey bedroom wing each side of the living quarters. It was on land of little use for farming other than grazing, although Sir Thomas, after valiant attempts, had cultivated nine acres of flax.1 It was nestled under the South Hessary Tor and, on rare days when mist or rain did not impede, had a view across the valley.2 Today it is still the finest house on Dartmoor and is a successful B&B.
Nearby was the grim war prison Sir Thomas had ordered built over three years, completing it in 1809, when it began housing some 5000 French prisoners of war who were marched up from Plymouth.3 Dartmoor had not been the only prison for French and American prisoners, but it was the largest—with eventually some 8000 inmates—and conditions were regarded as the worst in Britain.4 (The Americans were there as a result of Britain’s 1812–14 war with America.) After 1815, however, with peace declared and Napoleon exiled to St Helena, the prisoners were discharged in batches. By February of the following year, the great prison was empty. Sir Thomas needed to find another use for it. In his view it could take the 2000 convicts who were being transported each year to New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land.5
The village of Princetown had almost emptied, all the prison staff gone, but Tyrwhitt believed it still had a future. The surrounding area was rich in natural resources, mainly minerals, but its prosperity was limited by the lack of a transport connection to the coast. So he would bring industry to the moor by building a link to the sea. His new idea was a horse-drawn railway to transport granite down to Plymouth and to bring goods back, supplies for the new prison inmates.
Perhaps the big granite buildings might be occupied, he thought, if not by prisoners, by the paupers of London, who could be trained as domestic servants—it could be a School of Industry! Balcombe could manage the catering: he had gained experience on St Helena, purveying for 52 people, obtaining food supplies in a place with difficult access; now he could do that on a much larger scale. The job would keep him out of London, give him an income, shield him from trouble and make him forget his connection with Bonaparte. But Balcombe and his family were not going to forget, not for the rest of their lives.
Sir Thomas commissioned a survey of the 23-mile route for his proposed horse-drawn railway, climbing more than 1000 feet and contouring around peat bogs and granite tors. He submitted his plan to the Plymouth Chamber of Commerce on 3 November 1818, pitching the enormous benefits for the two towns it would link. The railway would transport granite, iron, copper and tin from the quarries of Dartmoor (his quarry being the largest) to the port of Plymouth, as well as flax and peat. In return, timber, coal, food supplies and fertiliser could be brought from the coast, enabling new industries for Princetown. He predicted that shareholders could expect an 18 per cent return on their investment. The Chamber of Commerce naturally agreed.6
Tyrwhitt’s enthusiasm inspired others, and nearly £28,000 was raised, although he himself was the main contributor. The initial sum was enough to finance the first section of the line, while much fundraising was still needed for tunnelling and bridges.7 A charter was drawn up for the Plymouth and Dartmoor Railway Company and announced in the county’s newspapers. The 26 founding subscribers bought £25 shares. The largest purchaser was a rich local politician, Sir Masseh Lopes, with 50 shares, followed by Tyrwhitt with 40 and Sir William Elford with 20; William Balcombe was listed next, with four shares totalling just £100.8 But nothing was happening with the Dartmoor prison; no new inmates arrived, despite Sir Thomas’s proposals to bring, if not convicts, if not paupers, perhaps the orphan children of London.
It was a harsh winter at Dartmoor and the Balcombes’ African servant Sarah Timms suffered in the abominable weather. (A former prison physician had noted that ‘it was not unusual in the months of December and January for the thermometer to stand at 33 to 35 degrees below freezing, indicating cold almost too intense to support animal life’.9) Sarah had been nanny to the girls since their early childhood and was now the household maid. She had been given her freedom to accompany the family to England, where slavery was illegal, but had been told the stay would be for only six months. Now nine months had passed and snow was thick on the ground. Balcombe promised they would all soon be returning to St Helena.
The family, accustomed to a tropical climate, hated the rain, rolling fogs and snow and yearned for their island home and friends. Balcombe missed the trade opportunities and his many investments there. The small ‘dame school’ was not satisfactory for the boys, and Princetown was far too isolated for the young women. There was no society life whatsoever. The Balcombes moved to lodgings down in Plymouth, much to the disappointment of Sir Thomas. He assured William that there would be plenty of work for him when the prison had new occupants and the railway project was completed. Then Princetown would flourish!
In early February 1819, Balcombe wrote to the Court of Directors of the East India Company, requesting permission to return to St Helena in order to resume his position as superintendent of public sales. The issue was discussed on 24 February, but the court moved at a majestic pace in such matters, especially with someone so recently controversial in the news.
Balcombe was told that his request was being considered.10 Meanwhile, he needed to put his commercial affairs on the island back in order. He wrote from Plymouth to his business partner Joseph Cole clearly disassociating himself from O’Meara. His old friend the doctor was by then down on his luck. He had rented rooms on Edgware Road in London and set up shop as a dentist. In the window he displayed a wisdom tooth with a notice that it had been extracted from the jaw of Napoleon Bonaparte. The dentistry practice did not flourish.11 In 1819, he published a bound booklet, An Exposition of some of the Transactions at St Helena since the Appointment of Sir Hudson Lowe, ‘Price 8 shillings’, which earned a little more for him.12 It was a precursor to a major work that would follow three years later.
Even without the provocation of this new publication, which had not yet reached him, Lowe was still fulminating over O’Meara’s earlier attacks, portraying him in the British press as a tyrant. He was considering legal action.
The Balcombes read in The Times that their surgeon friend Dr John Stokoe, once a disappointed suitor for Jane, was abruptly leaving St Helena for England on the Trincomalee. He had lately been ‘the medical attendant on the person of Buonaparte’. The paper reported that his ‘sudden return’ was explained in a letter from a St Helena officer: ‘Mr Stokoe, the surgeon of the flag-ship, whom Buonaparte accepted as his medical attendant, after the return home of Mr O’Meara, has incurred the displeasure of the Governor and returns to England in the Trincomalee.’
According to the paper, Stokoe had tried to make it conditional with the governor of accepting the situation with Bonaparte, that he should not be required to detail any personal conversations into which he might be drawn, ‘or any circumstances which he might overhear, at Longwood; but pledging himself as a British officer that if any thing should come to his knowledge in which his allegiance to his King and country would be compromised by his secrecy, he would then instantly give information to the Governor. This has passed on until a few days since, when Buonaparte was suddenly seized with a serious illness in the middle of the night. Mr Stokoe, as soon as the necessary forms were gone through, visited him and found that he had a slight apoplectic fit. After a few hours he appeared free from the attack, but it had left a considerable degree of indisposition. Mr Stokoe made official reports of the circumstances to Sir Hudson Lowe and the Admiral Plampin, and gave copies of them to Buonaparte. Whether it was this latter circumstance, or whether Mr S. had represented Buonaparte as being in a worse state of health than suited the predisposed notions of Sir Hudson, is not known; but he was instantly forbidden to go to Longwood—was threatened to be tried by a court-martial—or, as an act of mitigation of his offence, he was told he might invalid home. Of course he preferred the latter, as the least incommodious to him, and he sails tomorrow in the Trincomalee. The reports were drawn up, of course, with conscientious accuracy, and were such as the case demanded. I understand Buonaparte is really in a serious state of health. His dwelling is sealed against all visitors.’13
Three days after this article, The Times reported that Stokoe had already arrived and been interviewed at the Admiralty and was returning to St Helena immediately: ‘This gentleman, we understand, was on Tuesday examined by ministers, and the result has been that he is immediately to resume his functions at St Helena. The inference from this is, that his conduct has been fully approved of.’14
The Balcombes were longing to depart for the island themselves, but could not do so until official permission was received from the East India Company, although it seems they heard encouraging rumours. However, Sarah Timms could endure England no longer. Balcombe travelled up to London with her and arranged her passage on the ship Larkin and her travel bond with the Company.
While in London, Balcombe called in to see Holmes the naval agent and booked into lodgings next door to his Kennington house—something that would count against him. He wrote letters from there to Cole and Fowler, which Holmes arranged that a ship’s officer would deliver to St Helena, bypassing the official mail. Yet another foolish mistake.
Lowe was alarmed to hear that Balcombe still had every intention of returning to the island, and that although the purveyorship to the French had gone, he planned to resume his other business interests if permitted to do so by the East India Company. In a private letter to Bathurst, the governor noted that two more letters had recently arrived from Balcombe, brought by a ship’s officer for Cole and Fowler. Cole had shown Lowe his letter and there was not a great deal in it. Balcombe had said that ‘he had been recommended by Sir T. T. to go to Plymouth for Economy’. The officer delivering the letter admitted that he had picked it up from Balcombe at Kennington, ‘the place where Mr O’Meara & Mr Holmes met’.
The governor then informed Cole ‘that the partnership of Balcombe, Holmes & O’Meara in England could not be long found compatible with that of Balcombe, Cole & Fowler at St Helena’. Cole replied that he understood that. Lowe wrote to Bathurst: ‘I was inclined to make this remark as Mr Balcombe enjoys the benefit of the Naval contract in this Island for the supply of Beer & Vegetables, delivering perhaps to him & his house here not less than £2000 a year. He still retains also the Situation of Superintendent of Public Sales, for which, however, if he does not return here, one of the Company’s Civil Servants, tho not at my suggestion, has applied. If Mr B thinks such matters worth pursuing, the only way I conceive he has to proceed is to make a full compleat disclosure of everything that has passed & to recant. He will probably avoid this, so long as he can play a desirable game & secure an interest in both quarters. The Person whom I conceded would have been able to obtain everything from him was Sir Thomas Tyrwhitt, but if all these arguments from him have failed, I presume those of his Interests may still succeed.’15
Sarah Timms arrived back on the island in late June and reported to Lowe, who thoroughly questioned her. He wrote to Goulburn: ‘She mentioned that Captain Wallis had gone down to Plymouth to see Mr Balcombe & his family & was with them two or three days. Mr Balcombe, she said, took lodgings next door for some time to Mr Holmes at Kennington. She knows nothing of their connection, nor is not likely to have brought out anything from them.’16
On the same day, 29 June, Albine de Montholon, claiming ill health, announced that she was departing St Helena, leaving her husband to keep Napoleon company. She had had enough of the island’s loneliness, the bickering and Fanny Bertrand’s hostility. She may have had enough of occasionally warming Napoleon’s bed. Although his declining health probably meant that he was incapable of much sexual activity, she was a comfort to him. It was rumoured that Albine was heading to England to warm the bed of Lieutenant Basil Jackson, something hinted at in her own later Journal Secret d’Albine de Montholon, maîtresse de Napoléon à Sainte-Hélène, in which her relationship as ‘mistress’ to Napoleon was explicit in the title. The journal lay unpublished for almost two centuries.17 She left the island, with her children, on the Lady Campbell on 2 July. Napoleon was said to be devastated by her departure.18
Bathurst wrote to Lowe, counselling him against directing ‘any prosecutions against the Morning Chronicle or Mr. O’Meara’s publications’, not because he felt indifference on the subject, ‘but because London juries are very uncertain in their verdicts, and one ill-disposed juryman would be able to acquit the parties, which would give occasion for triumph and appear to justify the complaints which have been made against you’. Knowing that Lowe was likely to be disappointed by this advice, he offered some good news: ‘With respect to Mr. Balcombe, you will let it be known that, in the event of his arriving at St Helena, you have orders to send him away. His partners must not be allowed to continue their contract if his name is in it. I imagine he cannot be dismissed from his office of Surveyor of Sales but by order of the Court of Directors; and I am not sure what may be the result of the representation which I shall probably make to them on the subject. I say probably, for I do not much like making representations of that description unless there is a good chance of their being attended to.’19
However, there was another member of the suspected ‘naval cabal’ whom Lowe had no wish to see return to the island. He wrote to Bathurst that a Portsmouth newspaper indicated that Stokoe was a passenger on board the Abundance and was returning to St Helena to resume his duties as a naval surgeon. The news had given rise to ‘an extraordinary declaration’ from Count Balmain, that in his view ‘Mr Stokoe was not in any respect to blame’. Lowe still refused to acknowledge that Balmain was courting his stepdaughter Charlotte, and he found the man’s comment outrageous.20
The first Plymouth and Dartmoor Railway Act successfully passed through Parliament in July 1819 as a result of Tyrwhitt’s exertions. In a ceremony on 12 August, Sir Thomas laid the first iron rails on granite sleepers.21
There was a small setback for the project when the largest original investor, Sir Masseh Lopes, a wealthy Devon landowner, local magistrate and (even by the standards of the time) notoriously corrupt politician, was convicted of electoral bribery at the County Assizes in 1819 and gaoled for two years. Born a Portuguese Jew (who had later converted to Protestantism), he was probably a convenient scapegoat for token parliamentary reform.22
In August, Napoleon’s fiftieth birthday passed with little fuss on St Helena.
The following day, 16 August 1819, would long be remembered as a day of shame in England. In Manchester some 60,000 men, women and children, wearing their Sunday best, walked peaceably, carrying no arms, to St Peter’s Field to listen to the famous radical orator Henry Hunt. He called for ‘quietness and order’ and the crowd complied.23 But the Manchester magistrates had a warrant for Hunt’s arrest. England still possessed no police force, but out of sight, in case of trouble, was an enormous force of soldiers; at the front was the local yeomanry, shopkeepers and ‘newly enriched manufacturers’, armed and on horseback.24 It was this local militia that made a bungling charge to arrest the speaker and attacked the crowd, which tried to prevent Hunt’s removal. The troops followed, sabres drawn, charging into the melée and killing up to fifteen people and wounding more than 400. It was a massacre of the defenceless, leaving a field strewed with ‘caps, bonnets, hats, shawls and shoes . . . trampled, torn and bloody’.25
The reverberations of ‘Peterloo’, as it came to be called, on the British middle class led eventually to parliamentary reform.