‘12. To be above the caprice of fortune, not to be moved by her smiles or frowns, is to be high-souled. They who too easily betray their joy or sorrow, according to circumstances, possess neither strength of character nor courage, whatever their other merits. ‘13. In France, we can construct perfectly good ships of war, but we cannot turn out efficient naval officers. This is the great misfortune in our country, which will ever give to the English the superiority at sea, through the excellence of their seamen and naval officers. In England, the son of the wealthiest and greatest nobleman will commence life as a sailor in a vessel of war under a good officer—but notwithstanding his influence, the king of France will never be able to do away with the prejudices and pride of our nobles, who aspire to being sea officers without knowing how to sail, even on fresh water.’ [Sidenote: FUGITIVE PIECES.] From the first moment when society, not in England only, stood perplexed at the enigma presented in the person of the Chevalière D’Eon, a variety of fugitive pieces, some acrimonious, others laudatory, of which she was the subject, appeared in the public prints on both sides of the Channel. With the necessarily limited selections for which we can find space, because we believe they form a fit sequel to the history of our archetype, we gratefully take leave of the reader, who will have had the kindness to accompany us thus far. _Verses believed to have been written by an eminent Doctor of Divinity of the University of Oxford, and addressed to a friend of the Chevalier._ Exul ades, nimium felix! tu victima veri, Causa boni, patriæ facta, D’Eone, tua est. Curia quondam habuit magnum Romana Catonem: Majorem sed habet jam Gallicana suum. _Political Register_, 1768. _A Mademoiselle —— qui s’était déguisée en homme._ Bonjour, fripon de Chevalier, Qui savez si bien l’art de plaire, Que, par un bonheur singulier, De nos beautés la plus sévère En faveur d’un tel écolier, Déposant son ton minaudier Et sa sagesse grimacière, Pourrait peut-être s’oublier, Ou plutôt moins se contrefaire. Mon cher, nous le savons trop bien: (Le ciel en tout est bon et sage) Pour un si hardi personnage, Dans le fond vous ne valez rien. Croyez-moi: reprenez un rôle Que vous jouez plus sûrement: D’un imposteur déguisement Que votre sexe se console; Du mien vous faites le tourment; Et le vôtre, sur ma parole, Vous doit son plus bel ornement. Hélas! malheureux que nous sommes! Vous avez tout pour nous charmer: C’est bien être au-dessus des hommes Que de savoir s’en faire aimer! M. D’ARNAUD. _Almanach des Muses_, 1771.