This is part of a series of letters from the alleged poisoner of Napoleon, Count Charles de Montholon to his wife the alleged last mistress of Napoleon, Albine.
Montholon again alludes to the party of individuals of are set to arrive that can help him escape his situation. It is unclear what he is after and we must always remember these letters are being read by Napoleon’s apparent worst enemy of the moment, the Governor of St. Helena, Sir Hudson Lowe.
As per usual, Montholon shows no love for Napoleon so why is he there? Why would new doctor spring him from his miserable separation from the wife he professes to adore?
Montholon writes:
FROM COUNT TO COUNTESS OF MONTHOLON
Longwood, August 11, 1819.
A charcoal ship arrived from England; it left on May 24.
It did not bring any news of the doctor sent from Rome, except that they had arrived in London on April 19. I despair of seeing them here (1).
It seems to me, my dear Albine, that in this very fact, fate conjures up to lengthen our cruel separation; because after all, if they arrived, nothing could reasonably oblige me to stay in Saint Helena when you are no longer there.
We're still talking about Abundance and Mr. Stokoe on board (2) but no more Abundance than Italian doctors, and the sad Longwood is still today as you left it: monotonous, unbearable! The weather is
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1. Antommarchi and his companions left London on July 9th.
2. In the text of Souvenirs, we get: M. Malcolm. It would then be Admiral Pulteney Malcolm, who had pleased Napoleon, and whom the latter would have liked to see come back to replace Admiral Plampin, who displeased him. In the copy, we read: Mr. Stokoe. Which one is incorrect? Both names are plausible: at Longwood, Stokoe was wanted as doctor, Malcolm as admiral or governor. I prefer the Stokoe version: 1st, because Stokoe actually arrived on the Abundance, and not Malcolm; 2nd because the Abundance was a transport ship and the admiral could hardly be expected on anything except on a warship.
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dreadful, and I believe at times that my hut will be blown away by the wind; we haven't seen such a violent storm yet since we've been in this country.
I told you, in my last letter, that the mania for getting married was in fashion; I did not believe then but within the week, we would have a marriage.
Sunday, the fiery Archambaud, in spite of the lightning which rumbles in his head, and the most pronounced wrath, leads to the altar the modest Mary (1).
All his comrades are furious, and pretend that they will not speak to him anymore. Bertrand comes to tell me about his torments; last night, he was making his third intrusion of the day, about this marriage that we should want to prevent, and for which we make him responsible by accusing him of being the cause.
His wife plays, in this, her accustomed role, and I, who do not interfere, laugh under the cloak of these ridiculous scenes, which fortunately happen in the shadows.
It will be in this as in all things; it is only the first step that counts for anything, and before the end of the year, they will all be married.
Noverraz and Joséphine always say they are the happiest people in the world: she comes regularly to look after my laundry, and gets her daily peak at my house.
If you came back, you would find everything in the place where you left it, even a bonnet on the window, and a blue shoe on the table. I spend my days on your sofa, my books on the small Chinese table, at the foot of your bed, on your window and that of the cabinet. I make Aly (2) despair. He claims that I have more than a hundred volumes and that I do not give him anything back: that is true, but I do not listen to him.
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1. Who was probably in the service of the Bertrands.
2. He was a librarian at Longwood. Source: Letters from Montholon.
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Still no work in progress: the trendy reading at the moment is the Gospels, Bossuet, Massillon, Fléchier, Bourdaloue, etc.
For my part, I read neither the Gospels, Bossuet, nor Massillon; but I pray to God with all the strength of my soul that he gives me back my Albine and my children.
Your memory is constantly present in my thoughts, and I am absorbed by the need that I have of you; in all things, you are missing from my life, I cannot do without you.
Is it the loneliness of Longwood? No, because I am not bored; it is love strengthened by habit, and I can say that by separating myself from you, I have been deprived of half of myself.
I did not experience, as in our previous separations, this acute pain which leads me to agitation.
I'm calm; my hurt is deep; it finds relief only in inaction and loneliness.
Bertrand continues to come to see me regularly; as for his wife, I haven't seen her for eight or ten days. Goodbye, my darling Albine, take good care of your health. I calculate that you have already arrived, or, at least, you are very close to arriving, so you will have six weeks to take the waters of Cheltenham, if you are allowed to go there.
I kind of hope that before winter I will be near you. I so ardently desire it that I cannot believe that my wishes will not be granted.
Kiss my poor children well for me: Édouard (1), Tristan, Charles, Lili, Joséphine. Tell my Lili that her daddy loves her.
Yours, all yours for life.
A thousand kisses. Every movement is unpleasant to me, and I don't care for myself.
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1. Son from Mme. de Montholon's previous marriage.
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Good and fond memories of Yolande and Edmond. I don't need to recommend that you should never respond to all of my Longwood gossip, I don't think even your first letter will arrive here anymore; but finally, if it were otherwise, you must never forget that we will want to read everything you write to me.
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Cela fait partie d'une série de lettres du présumé empoisonneur de Napoléon, le comte Charles de Montholon, à son épouse, la prétendue dernière maîtresse de Napoléon, Albine.
Montholon fait à nouveau allusion au groupe d'individus qui devraient arriver pour l'aider à échapper à sa situation.
On ne sait pas exactement ce qu'il recherche et nous devons toujours nous rappeler que ces lettres sont lues par le pire ennemi de Napoléon, le gouverneur de Sainte-Hélène, Sir Hudson Lowe.
Comme d'habitude, Montholon ne montre aucun amour pour Napoléon, alors pourquoi est-il là? Pourquoi un nouveau médecin le ferait-il sortir de sa misérable séparation d'avec la femme qu'il prétend adorer?
