We’ve been translating letters written between the mysterious couple, Charles and Albine Montholon, who hovered around during Napoleon’s last days.

XXXVII. - FROM THE COUNT TO THE COUNTESS OF MONTHOLON

Longwood, this November 6, 1820.

... It is from you alone that I await it, I cannot hope that any step will leave from here. The Emperor said to me, a few days ago, on this subject: "I am too unhappy to ask for my friends to share my awful position. I understand your desire to join your wife and your children. Of all the privations that I experience, the most painful for me, the only one that I will never get used to, is being separated from my wife and my son.”

“Mme. de Montholon knows better than anyone what kind of man can replace you. My family only sends brutes to me; I want my mother not to interfere. It is impossible to make worse choices than the five people she sent me.”

Madame Bertrand cries two or three times a week about leaving here; everyone at Longwood is counting on his departure but her husband, who wants to accompany her, would like, before taking his departure, to know he’s being replaced, and he needs for this purpose a list authorized by the Emperor, which he will not obtain ever, no more than I would.

Every day is almost the same: at half past eight or nine, the Emperor calls for me; I often have lunch with him, that is to say when he has lunch; at half past eleven, then at noon he goes back to bed.
At one o'clock, he receives Bertrand, whom he keeps more or less the same amount of time as he does with me. It’s rarely a period of two hours, then Bertrand comes to my house.

At three o'clock, I get dressed for the ride, when the Emperor goes out, to accompany him, if Madame Bertrand does not come to take a seat in the carriage, and who has visited three or four times in the past two months? At five, I dine alone with the Emperor and stay with him until eight, nine or ten o’clock.
Three quarters of the time, he dines in his bed.
If I leave his house before half past nine, I will have tea at Madame Bertrand's, and come back at half past ten to keep the Emperor company.

If, on the contrary, I stay until ten o'clock, he calls me during the night.
For several months, he has not worked; his health has become so bad that he hardly leaves his bed or sofa.

It is with great difficulty that I get him out in a carriage or even in his garden when the weather is very nice. The horse tires him so much that he has almost given up riding (1)

He just got very sick last week (2) and gave us two days of great concern.
Fortunately, he is fine now, except for an excessive weakness. He thanks you for sending him books.
Today it is his only consolation. He makes himself read, because his eyes tire immediately.
…

XXXVIII. - FROM THE COUNTESS TO THE COUNT OF MONTHOLON

Paris, November 16, 1820.

I told you in my last letter that Planat asked for nothing more than to join you. Make the official request, in case I can't send it to you. If I lost hope of you returning, I would join you.

…
1. One of Napoleon's last horse rides seems to have been his visit to Mr. Dovelon's, five miles from Longwood, on October 4, 1820. Forsyth (III, p. 244 sqq.) He gives an almost amusing account of it.

2. See the Last Moments, October 26-31, 1820.