“Sir,—You have sent back to me, with your corrections, the letter which I wrote to Count Bertrand, respecting your verbal offer of granting me permission to return to Longwood. But as it almost always happens here, this offer was sincere only in appearance, and it was doomed to expire in the details of its execution. I was not much surprised at this. After your departure, the other day, when I came to reflect on the offer you had made, I foresaw that the matter would terminate as it really has done. You had the candour to tell me that you could not permit me and the individuals at Longwood to combine our ideas; or, in other words, to ascertain our real wishes. You have, doubtless, very good reasons for this. I say nothing against it; only I cannot suffer myself to be duped, or to be the means of leading into error those who take an interest in my fate.
“You[“You] are too advantageously situated, Sir, between Longwood and me; and if I must write to Count Bertrand, not my own sentiments, but what you may think proper to dictate, I decline holding any communication with him. I shall regard your offer as never having been made, because it cannot possibly be accepted; and I must refer irrevocably for my thoughts, sentiments, and decisions on this subject, to my letter of the 30th of November.
“You mistake, Sir, if you suppose that I wished for answers to all the arguments and articles contained in my letters. I am aware of the importance of your occupations, and the value of your time, and therefore I merely requested an acknowledgment of the receipt of my letters for the sake of regularity. I presumed you could have no reason to refuse this.
“You seem surprised, Sir, at the deplorable state of my own and my son’s health; and you twice express astonishment that I should not have complained to you on the subject, when I was at Longwood. I thought but little about my health, Sir, when I was at Longwood; and besides, when I felt indisposed, I considered it more advisable to complain to the Doctor than to the Governor. With regard to my son, I am surprised you should have heard nothing of his situation, considering the consultations that have been held on his case, the fits he has had, and the many times he has been bled. Is it to be wondered at if our present circumstances increase our infirmities?
“I now come to your order for my removal to the Cape. I find that all the papers which have any reference to the august individual to whom I have devoted my existence are to be detained. What other papers, Sir, can I be possessed of? What is meant by saying that I am free to carry away all the rest? Is not this making an offer, and yet granting nothing?
“You detain my Journal, the sole and real object of all this misunderstanding; the depository, yet incomplete and incorrect, in which I daily registered all that I thought, saw, or heard. Can any of my papers be more valuable to me than this? You cannot pretend to have been ignorant of its contents, since I suffered you to peruse it for two hours at your own discretion. Will you not be responsible for having abused this privilege? Will you not, perhaps, one day, have to justify yourself for the false notions which you have doubtless transmitted to the English Ministers respecting this manuscript? You have called it a Political Journal. I had no right, you have observed, in the situation in which I was placed, to keep any account of what was said by the Emperor Napoleon, and you particularly object to my having introduced official documents into my Journal. As if all that I saw, read, and heard, did not by right, and without impropriety, belong to my own thoughts, and form a part of my own property, so long as the record was kept private and secret! Who would suppose that such principles could have been imbibed amidst the liberal ideas of England? Do they not rather partake of the odious police maxims of the continent? And, after all, what are the contents of this Journal? It describes the sublime language and conduct of the august individual who is the object of it, the incidents of his life, and also many things which are probably not very agreeable to you! But who will have given publicity to these facts? The whole was to have been re-touched, altered, and corrected. Who has prevented this? However, Sir, you may rest assured, that the circumstances which have just taken place shall never induce me to say any thing concerning you which I do not firmly believe to be true.
“In your decision of the 20th of October, you declare that I shall be removed from Longwood, and sent to the Cape of Good Hope. From the form and language of this decision, it might naturally be supposed that it was hostile to my wishes; while, in reality, you thereby pronounce a sentence which is now, and has been for many days past, foreign to the new question that has risen up between us. You remove from Longwood one who, twenty days ago, withdrew from the subjection to your authority in which he had voluntarily placed himself; and who, for the last eighteen days, has been formally demanding his removal from the island. Who would ever guess these facts from a perusal of your document? You enclose your decision in a letter, in which you leave me the choice of submitting to your sentence or returning to Longwood. But by embracing the happiness which you thus hold out to me, I should secure to you the triumph and satisfaction of being master of my most private papers; I should again become your captive, and should be liable to the same searches and seizures, whenever you might be pleased to make them.... No, Sir! I can make no choice. I can only repeat what I have already said before. I resign myself to the laws. If I am guilty, let me be tried; if I am not guilty, restore me to liberty. If my papers are unconnected with this affair, return them to me. If you think it proper to submit them to serious examination, transmit them to the English Ministers, and let me be sent with them. Besides, as my own and my son’s health imperatively require every kind of medical assistance, I earnestly implore you to send us to England.
“Nothing was more simple than this affair, and yet it has been involved in difficulty. In vain you refer to your instructions; they never can be made to apply to cases so peculiar as this. Your own wavering determination proves to me that your instructions are neither clear nor precise. You wished at first to keep me on the island in solitary confinement and separated from Longwood; you did not think it right to send me to the Cape. You now torture the literal meaning of your instructions, in order to give them a forced interpretation. But recollect that you will be held responsible to your Government for having misconstrued them, and to me for having violated the law in my person. Recollect that most of your measures will ultimately appear to have been vexatious and arbitrary acts. I know not what rights, what resources, your laws will afford me; but I slumber in this ignorance; for I trust they will protect me in some way or other. You expect to be rid of me when I shall be removed to the Cape, separated from my papers, which you intend to detain in your possession. But even should I be kept a prisoner there, the winds shall waft my complaints hitherward. I will make known the mental wounds and bodily sufferings which you will thus have been the means of aggravating; for, if I should be detained at the Cape, it must be through you, either by your direct orders or secret instructions. Sealed papers cannot be opened except in the presence of the party interested. Will you have me brought back from the Cape, for the purpose of breaking the seals that are affixed to mine? Or will you detain me at the Cape until you receive orders to send my papers to England? What object is to be gained by all this? There was, and still is, a simple mode of arranging every thing! My natural disposition to accommodate made me, as it were, anticipate every difficulty. I was ready to obviate all. I would willingly have subjected myself in England to any preliminary measures, however arbitrary, that might have been equivalent to the quarantine of the Cape. The state of my own and my son’s health was a valid reason for so doing.
“The fear of departing from the literal meaning of any particular point in your instructions has, with you, been more powerful than the necessity and the right of yielding to their spirit, to the force of circumstances, and the feelings of humanity. It is not yet too late to grant what I solicit. I am willing to believe that humanity will determine you; and if so I shall remain your debtor. The circumstance of the papers being claimed at Longwood and by me cannot be regarded as a reasonable obstacle. Besides, it may be asked what you have done to remove it? Do you wish that I should myself write on the subject? Three words would suffice to bring us to an understanding.
“At all events, Sir, whatever determination you may come to, whatever vexation you may reserve for me, nothing can be comparable to what I suffer in being detained on this horrible island, separated from the august individual whom I followed hither. The hours and minutes that I pass in this situation are like years in my unfortunate life, and dangerously aggravate my son’s precarious state of health. I therefore again demand, and shall incessantly demand, that you will remove me from this hated place. I am,” &c.