Eight days had nearly elapsed without producing the least approach towards any result whatever. This state of inactivity and passiveness could not agree with the nature of my disposition. The health of my son was at times most alarming. Deprived of all communication with Longwood, I was left alone to meditate by myself. I reflected upon the situation in which I was thus placed, fixed upon a plan, and took a resolution. I chose it, extreme in its nature, thinking that, if it was approved by the Emperor, it might be useful, and that it would be very easy to retrace my steps if he wished it. I therefore[therefore] wrote to the Governor the following letter:
“Sir,—In consequence of a snare laid by my servant, I was on the 25th ultimo torn from Longwood, and all my papers were seized, for having infringed your restrictions, to which I had previously submitted. Had you trusted the observance of these restrictions to my word or to my delicacy, I should have considered them as sacred; but you chose to guard them by attaching penalties to their violation, and I chose to run the risk of encountering them. You have applied those penalties at your own discretion, and I have made no objection to it. All this, as far it goes, is perfectly regular; but the measure of punishment should not exceed the measure of the offence. What is now the case? Two letters have been delivered for transmission without your knowledge: one of them contains the relation of the events that have occurred to us, written for Prince Lucien, and which would have passed through your hands, if you had not informed me that the continuation of my correspondence and the style of my letters would cause my removal by you from the person of the Emperor. The other letter was merely a letter of friendship. However, this circumstance has placed all my papers at your disposal, you have seen them all, even to the most secret. I have myself so much facilitated your researches that I have consented to allow you to peruse solely upon your word, that which was known only to myself, which is as yet a mass of undigested ideas, undetermined, and liable at every moment to be corrected, or modified; in a word, the secret, the chaos of my thoughts. In so doing I have wished to convince you, and I appeal to your candour, when I say that I hope I have convinced you that, in the multitude of papers which you have hastily looked over, there is nothing that could be considered as tending to interfere with the high and important part of your functions: no plot, no plan, not even a thought relating to Napoleon’s escape. You could not find any, because none existed. We are of opinion that his escape is impossible, and we do not think of it. Yet I will not deny that I should willingly have attempted to effect it, had I seen the possibility of success. I should willingly have sacrificed my life to restore him to liberty. I should have fallen a martyr to my zeal, and my memory would have lived for ever in all noble and generous hearts. But I repeat it, nobody considers the attempt practicable; and nobody thinks of making it. The Emperor Napoleon’s plans and wishes are still those which he formed when he repaired willingly and in good faith on board the Bellerophon, that is, to go and seek a life of tranquillity in America, or even in England, under the protection of the laws.
“These points settled, I protest with all my might against your reading henceforward, I might say all my private papers, but I confine myself to what I call my Journal. I owe it to the great respect which I entertain for the august personage whose name fills its pages, I owe it to the respect due to myself, to state my solemn objection to your so doing. I therefore demand either that those papers may be immediately restored to me, if you think conscientiously that their contents are foreign to the grand object of your administration; or if, from what you have read of them, you consider that certain parts should be laid before the British Ministers, I demand that you will forward them all to England, and send me with them. You, Sir, are so often alluded to in those papers that delicacy imperatively commands you to adopt one of those two alternatives. You cannot possibly endeavour to avail yourself, more than I have allowed you, of this opportunity to read in them what concerns you personally, lest you expose yourself to the conclusions that will be drawn by induction from this abuse of your authority, lest the circumstance be thought connected with the trap laid for me, and with the great stir that has been made about such a trifle. As soon as I shall have arrived in England with these papers, I shall ask the Ministers in their turn, and I shall appeal to the whole world, whether any importance can be attached, in the eye of the law, to a document recording day by day, with all the negligence warranted by strict privacy, the conversation, the words, and perhaps even the gestures, of the Emperor Napoleon? I shall ask them particularly whether I have not a right to demand of them the most inviolable secrecy concerning every part of a Journal, which is only the rough draught of my thoughts, which properly speaking does not exist, which contains only materials yet undigested; which I might without scruple disavow in almost every particular, as being as yet far from being settled in my own mind, and in which it happened to me, every day, to have to correct by the tenor of a new conversation the errors of a former one, errors that must be unavoidable and of frequent occurrence both with respect to the man who speaks without knowing that he is observed, and to the man who collects without considering himself bound to warrant the authenticity of his information. As for what concerns you, Sir, in those pages, if you have frequently had occasion to complain of the opinions I have pronounced, or the facts I have stated, it is very easy to point out, between man and man, the errors into which I may have fallen. You cannot possibly afford me a greater pleasure than by giving me an opportunity of being just; and whatever be the opinion in which I persist, after your explanation, you will at least be obliged to acknowledge my candour and sincerity. Be that as it may, Sir, and whatever be your intentions with respect to me, I from this moment withdraw, in as far as my present position will admit, from the state of voluntary subjection in which I had placed myself towards you. When I entered into that engagement, you told me that I remained at liberty to retract it at any time; and I therefore, from the present moment, desire to be restored to the common class of citizens. I place myself once more under the operation of your civil laws; I appeal to your tribunals, not to implore their favour, but their justice and their judgment. I presume, General, that you have too much respect for the laws, and too much innate justice in your heart, to make it necessary for me so far to insult you as to observe, that you would become responsible for all violations of the law that may be exercised against me directly or indirectly. I do not suppose that the letter of your instructions, which might induce you to detain me a prisoner here or at the Cape during several months, could shelter you from the spirit of those same instructions, appealed to by the power, the superiority, the majesty of the laws.
“Those instructions, if I have rightly understood them, in ordering you to detain every person having belonged to the establishment at Longwood, during a certain time before you restore them to liberty, have only for their object, no doubt, to derange the communications that might have been held with that horrible prison, and to let some time elapse after their cessation. Now the manner in which I have been torn away has been sufficient to attain that end. It was impossible for me to bring away any idea of the moment. I was, as it were, struck with sudden death. Besides, if I am sent to England under accusation, and submitted to the operation of the laws, they will, if I am found guilty, sufficiently obviate the inconvenience which it has been sought to avoid. If I am not guilty, I shall still be exposed to the provisions of the Alien Act; or, if that is not enough, I here give beforehand my voluntary assent to all precautions, however arbitrary they may be, which it may be thought proper to adopt against me on this occasion.
“Without yet knowing, Sir, what your intentions may be with respect to the disposal of my person, I have already imposed upon myself the greatest of all sacrifices. I am still very near to Longwood, and perhaps I am already separated from it by eternity; horrible thought, that harrows up my soul, and will continue to haunt my imagination!... But a few days ago, and you would have brought me to submit to the greatest sacrifices, by the fear of being removed from the Emperor’s person; to-day, it is not in your power to restore me to him. A stain has been affixed upon me, by arresting me almost within his sight, I can no longer be a source of consolation to him; he would only see in me a being dishonoured, suggesting painful recollections. And yet his presence, the attentions which I delighted to pay him, are dearer to me than my life. But perhaps, some pity will be shewn to me from afar! Something tells me that I shall return; but by a purified channel, bringing with me all that is dear to my existence, to assist me in surrounding with pious and tender cares the immortal monument placed at the extremity of the universe, and slowly consuming by the inclemency of the climate and the perfidy and cruelty of mankind. You have spoken[spoken] to me, Sir, of your own afflictions; we do not suspect that you have mentioned all the tribulations with which you are assailed; but every one knows and feels his own misery only. You do not suspect, on your side, Sir, that you keep Longwood covered with the veil of mourning. I have the honour,” &c.
A correspondence being once established with Sir Hudson Lowe, I did not remain idle. The following day I wrote to him again, to tell him that, in consequence of my letter of the preceding day, I now officially and in due form demanded my removal from St. Helena and my return to Europe. On the following day, I took up the same subject, and treated it with reference to my situation, as affecting my domestic concerns.
“In my two preceding letters,” said I to him, “both relating to my political situation, I thought it improper and unbecoming to introduce a single word touching my private affairs; but now that I consider myself as belonging once more to the mass of common citizens, I do not hesitate, as an accidental inhabitant of your island, to represent to you all the horrors of my private situation. You are aware of the dangerous state of my son’s health: it must have been reported to you by the medical men. Ever since he has seen the dear and sacred tie which bound us to Longwood dissolved, all his ideas, all his wishes, all his hopes, are ardently turned towards Europe, and his disease will be increased by impatience and the power of imagination. Such is his physical situation, which renders my moral situation still worse, if possible. I have to contend at one and the same time against the feelings of my heart and the uneasiness of my mind. I cannot consider, without a feeling of terror, that I am responsible to myself for having brought him hither, and for being the cause of his being detained here. What should I answer to his mother, who would ask me for her son? What should I reply to the multitude of idlers and others, who, though indifferent to the circumstances, are ever ready to judge and condemn? I say nothing of my own health, it is of little importance amidst such emotions, and such causes of anxiety. And yet, I find myself in a most deplorable state; for, since I have no longer before my eyes the cause which kept the faculties of my mind in action, my body sinks under the dreadful havoc produced by eighteen months’ struggles, agitations, and afflictions, such as the imagination can hardly dwell upon. I am no longer near the august personage for whom I cheerfully endured them, and I am nevertheless also separated from my family, whose absence has caused me so much sorrow. Deprived of both objects, my heart is torn between them; it wanders in an abyss; it can no longer endure this situation. I leave you, Sir, to weigh these considerations. Do not sacrifice two victims. I request that you will send us to England, to the source of science and of every kind of assistance. This is the first demand of any kind, that I have made either of yourself or your predecessor. But the deplorable state of my son’s health overpowers my stoicism; will it not awaken your humanity? Several motives may tend to influence your decision: they are all contained in my letter of 30th November. I shall merely add here that an opportunity now offers for you to give a great and rare example of impartiality, in sending thus to your Ministers one of your adversaries.“
After having received these two letters, Sir Hudson Lowe called upon me, and with reference to the first, he immediately denied having laid any trap for me through the medium of my servant. He however admitted that appearances warranted my suspicions.
Sir Hudson Lowe, afterwards, went on to discuss verbally some passages of my letters, dwelling particularly upon certain expressions, which, he represented to me in a friendly manner, could not but be unpleasant to him. He found me not only on this, but on several other occasions of the same nature, perfectly accommodating. My answer to his observations was generally to take up the pen immediately, and erase or modify the expressions that displeased him.
I omit a pretty voluminous correspondence upon the same subject; I shall merely state that, in general, Sir Hudson Lowe avoided giving a written answer, and that his custom was to come, as it has just been seen, to converse with me respecting[respecting] the letters he had just received, and obtain some erasures, after which he retired, saying that he would soon give a circumstantial answer: this he did not do at the time, and has never done since; but, as I have been informed from England, he now pays periodical papers, or occasional libellers, to abuse my work, and to revile its author.