owers, and dispose at leisure of empires,
kingdoms, principalities, and republics. NOTHING CAN SAVE THEM BUT THE
ADOPTION OF SIMILAR MEASURES FOR THEIR PRESERVATION AS HAVE BEEN ADOPTED
FOR THEIR SUBJUGATION.

When l'Etat Militaire for the year 13 (a work containing the official
statement of our military forces) was presented to Bonaparte by Berthier,
the latter said: "Sire, I lay before Your Majesty the book of the destiny
of the world, which your hands direct as the sovereign guide of the
armies of your empire." This compliment is a truth, and therefore no
flattery. It might as justly have been addressed to a Moreau, a
Macdonald, a Le Courbe, or to any other general, as to Bonaparte, because
a superior number of well disciplined troops, let them be well or even
indifferently commanded, will defeat those inferior in number. Three to
one would even overpower an army of giants. Add to it the unity of
plans, of dispositions, and of execution, which Bonaparte enjoys
exclusively over such a great number of troops, while ten, or perhaps
fifty, will direct or contradict every movement of his opponents. I
tremble when I meditate on Berthier's assertion; may I never live to see
it realized, and to see all hitherto independent nations prostrated,
acknowledge that Bonaparte and destiny are the same, and the same
distributor of good and evil.

One of the bad consequences of this our military education of youth is a
total absence of all religious and moral lessons. Arnaud had, last
August, the courage to complain of this infamous neglect, in the National
Institute. "The youth," said he, "receive no other instruction but
lessons to march, to fire, to bow, to dance, to sit, to lie, and to
impose with a good grace. I do not ask for Spartans or Romans, but we
want Athenians, and our schools are only forming Sybarites." Within
twenty-four hours afterwards, Arnaud was visited by a police agent,
accompanied by two gendarmes, with an order signed by Fouche, which
condemned him to reside at Orleans, and not to return to Paris without
the permission of the Government,--a punishment regarded here as very
moderate for such an indiscreet zeal.

A schoolmaster at Auteuil, near this capital, of the name of Gouron, had
a private seminary, organized upon the footing of our former colleges. In
some few months he was offered more pupils than he could well attend to,
and his house shortly became very fashionable, even for our upstarts, who
sent the