1814.
My dear Mama,--The news is glorious indeed.

Peace! Peace with a Bourbon, with a descendant of Henri Quatre, with a prince who is bound to us by all the ties of gratitude.

I have some hopes that it will be a lasting peace; that the troubles of the last twenty years may make kings and nations wiser.

I cannot conceive a greater punishment to Buonaparte than that which the allies have inflicted on him.

How can his ambitious mind support it?
All his great projects and schemes, which once made every throne in Europe tremble, are buried in the solitude of an Italian isle.
How miraculously everything has been conducted! We almost seem to hear the Almighty saying to the fallen tyrant, "For this cause have I raised thee up, that I might show in thee My power." As I am in very great haste with this letter, I shall have but little time to write.