art, I yet endeavor to retain my courage
in spite of fate, and find my only consolation in hard study. Adieu.
Sometimes think of all the bitter thoughts which must fill my mind when
I contrast the past glories of France with her present condition and
hopeless future. It needs no little courage to press on alone, as one
can, towards the goal which one's heart has vowed to reach. Nevertheless
I must not despair, the honor of France has so many elements of vitality
in it."

Some months later he wrote to the same friend: "My life has been until
now marked only by profound griefs and stifled wishes. The blood of
Napoleon rebels in my veins, in not being able to flow for the national
glory. Until the present time there has been nothing remarkable in my
life, excepting my birth. The sun of glory shone upon my cradle. Alas!
that is all. But who can complain when the Emperor has suffered so much?
Faith in the future, such is my only hope; the sword of the Emperor my
only stay; a glorious death for France my ambition. Adieu! Think of the
poor exiles, whose eyes are ever turned towards the beloved shores of
France. And believe that my heart will never cease to beat at the sound
of country, honor, patriotism, and devotion."

Hortense deeply sympathized in the sorrows of her son. Like the caged
eagle, he was struggling against his bars, longing for a lofty flight.
On the 10th of August, 1834, she wrote to their mutual friend, Belmontet
as follows:

"The state of my affairs obliges me to remain during the winter in my
mountain home, exposed to all its winds. But what is this compared with
the dreadful sufferings which the Emperor endured upon the rock of St.
Helena? I would not complain if my son, at his age, did not find himself
deprived of all society and completely isolated, without any diversion
but the laborious pursuits to which he is devoted. His courage and
strength of soul equal his sad and painful destiny. What a generous
nature! What a good and noble young man! I am proud to be his mother,
and I should admire him if I were not so. I rejoice as much in the
nobleness of his character, as I grieve at being unable to render his
life more happy. He was born for better things. He is worthy of them. We
contemplate passing a couple of months at Geneva. There he will at least
hear the French language spoken. That will be an agreeable change for
him. The mother-tongue, is it not almost one's country?"

It every day became more a