sailor, wounded on board their own ship, in firing their own cool and well-directed broadside! Although we are unwilling to recur to the subject of Jacquemont's impiety, we cannot refrain from extracting the consistent conclusion of this remarkable story, which we sincerely hope is not characteristic of the French navy in general. The wounded man was so badly hurt that amputation of the arm became necessary, and his life was in danger-the rest Jacquemont shall tell in his own words.

The priest, whom we have on board, of course availed himself of our man's amputated arm yesterday, to go and puzzle him with salutary thoughts on life and death. But, being informed of what was going on by M. de Melay, who had seen his reverence going on tiptoe towards the hospital door, I went immediately, and caught him in the very fact of frightening the poor devil. He understood me directly, and sheered off as soon as he perceived me. I have advised the wounded man's friends not to quit his bedside, but to keep the curé, as they call him, at a distance; if he insists, they will receive him with a good broadside of slang.'-vol. i. p. 66.

This M. de Melay was the royal governor of Pondicherry: M. Jacquemont also was on board in an official capacity; and both held appointments under a sovereign who then bore the title of Most Christian King-and who at least was a Christian King! The whole affair is in perfect consistence! Their broadside wounds their own man, and their public functionaries insult the discipline of the ship and the religion of the state! But it is time to turn our attention more directly to Jacquemont himself.

It is said by one of our essayists that, if you wish to discover a man's character, you should try to get him to talk of himself, because you may generally conclude that he is really the very reverse of whatever he may represent himself to be. This is literally true of Jacquemont, for à force de se préconiser as the most modestthe best natured-the politest and most fascinating of mankind, he convinces you that he was one of the most impudent, conceited, ill-bred, and tiresome coxcombs that ever inflicted their impertinence on society. Let us prove our assertion out of his own mouth. We will begin with his débût in Calcutta :

The company was assembled in Lady William Bentinck's drawingroom. I was once more her chevalier, and sat next to her at dinner, that being of course the place of honour. Every thing around was royal and Asiatic: the dinner completely French and exquisite, delicious wines, served in moderation, as in France, but by tall servants with long beards, in white gowns with turbans of scarlet and gold. Lord William asked me to take wine, a compliment which I immediately returned, by begging the honour of taking wine with my fair neighbour, who was conversing with me on a variety of agreeable topics, and offered to act as my cicerone. To give our appetites time to revive

for

for the second course, an excellent German orchestra, led by an Italian, performed several of the finest symphonies of Mozart and Rossini, and in a most perfect manner. The distance from which the sound proceeded, the uncertain light flickering between the columns of the neighbouring room, the brilliancy of the lights with which the table was illuminated, the beauty of the fruit which covered it in profusion, and the perfume from the flowers by which its pyramids were decorated, and perhaps also the champaigne, made me find the music admirable. I experienced a sort of intoxication, but it was not a stupid intoxication. I chatted with Lady William in French on art, literature, painting, and music, while I answered, in a regular English speech, the questions put by her husband concerning the internal politics of France. I did not avoid showing, in my opinions, all that might excite disapprobation, employing, however, to express it, the most modest forms, which a lad of sixteen in England considers himself entitled to dispense with.' [What impudent dogs these English are!] Returning to Lady William's drawing-room to take coffee, of which I drank five or six cups without perceiving it, I found myself complimented by every one enough to turn my head. You will imagine that I did not fail to engage the physician, who is still young, in conversation, on the novelties in physiology; for I had no opportunity, in the general conversation, of speaking on subjects connected with my own profession of naturalist, and I wished to show myself in character before the hour of departure.'-vol. i. pp. 277-279.

Can there be a more perfect picture of the mingled astonishment and assurance of an impudent and vulgar person, admitted for the first time into good company, and painfully labouring to appear at ease! The immediate return of Lord William's compliment by asking Lady William to take wine-the intoxication produced by such unusual phenomena on a dinner-table as lights, fruits, flowers, and champaigne the chatting in French to Lady William on art and-besides art-on literature, painting, and music-which we suppose are not arts-the set speeches in English to her husbandthe five or six cups of coffee drunk without knowing what he did— the being complimented thereupon by every body to a degree to turn HIS head; and finally the crowning the whole by entertaining the mixed and admiring audience of ladies and gentlemen by a physiological discussion with the doctor, for the purpose of 'showing himself in character,' are all traits of the highest comic. The last, in particular, is almost equal to that other ingenious savant, M. Thomas Diafoirus, immortalized by Molière, who, wishing to show himself in character' to Mademoiselle Angélique, invites her and her friends to a physiological discussion à venir voir l'un de ces jours, pour vous divertir, la dissection d'une femme sur quoi je dois raisonner!"

Our next extract, however, must excite more serious feelings, and

and will temper our amusement at his folly with something approaching to disgust at his effrontery. Before we produce it, we think it proper to premise, that Lady William Bentinck is not more distinguished for her high rank and personal accomplishments, than for her piety and exemplary moral conduct in all the relations of life. We owe this preliminary tribute to an amiable lady, whose name we should not have been induced by any consideration to have quoted, if it had not been already obtruded on all Europe in this publication, and if the anecdotes in which she is mentioned had not been extensively circulated in our own periodical literature, without that censure of Jacquemont's ingratitude and impertinence which they so richly deserve.

'Lady William Bentinck is religious, or rather endeavours to be so.' -vol. i. p. 99.

For a week I was overwhelmed with attentions [at the GovernorGeneral's country house]. There was no Lady William for any one but ME. I spent several long days with her-tête-à-tête-chatting about GOD-she for, I against-of Mozart-Rossini-painting-Madame de Staël; of happiness and misery; and of LOVE in reference to both of all things, in short, which require, if not intimacy, at least a great deal of confidence and reciprocal esteem especially on the part of a woman-English too-religious and strict, with a man-young, a BACHELOR and a--FRENCHMAN!'-p. 114.

This last word was utterly superfluous !-Is there a man in Europe but a Frenchman who could have penned such a passage even in the most confidential private letter?-is there a father in Europe, except a Frenchman, who would have sanctioned the publication of such a letter from a recently deceased son? Another passage, though not so flippant, is to our feeling-and, must be, we have no doubt, to that of Lady William Bentinck-still more offensive; for he would have us believe that these alleged discussions for and against GOD' had a serious effect on her ladyship's mind.

I,' says he, am no better for her attempt to convert me, whilst she, I really fear, is not quite so sure of the truth of her doctrine as she was before."*-vol. i. p. 88.

We shall see, as we proceed, so many proofs of the mendacious vanity of the man, that we cannot help doubting even his most ordinary statements; but anecdotes so inconsistent as the foregoing with the character of any Englishwoman, and most especially with that of Lady William Bentinck, we reject at once, on the internal evidence, as well as on the general character of the witness.

There are some other ladies treated with, if it be possible, still

This is our own version-the translator having, as we shall hereafter more fully show, mistaken this and several other idiomatic passages.

greater

greater impertinence, and the passages, if quoted, would give our readers a still worse opinion of Jacquemont; but we refrain from doing so, because we are unwilling to revive or prolong the pain which they and their friends must have felt, at finding their names so cruelly, and, we can have no doubt, so causelessly insulted by the visions of such incredible vanity. He does not, indeed, dare to impute any positive levity of conduct, but it must be very mortifying to English women to find their unsuspecting good-nature and innocent urbanity to a stranger,-introduced to them by their husbands and fathers,-mistaken by the disgusting coxcomb himself and trumpeted to the world as having something of a more sentimental and tender character. But if we entertained-which we do not-the slightest doubt of the falsehood of all such insinuations, it would be removed, by observing that M. Jacquemont was, or affected to be, under a similar delusion with regard to every man whom he happened to meet. A few specimens of this Admirable Crichton will amuse our readers and enable them to form their own opinion-if it be not already settled-of the ingenious and ingenuous author; and it is in a special degree worthy of admiration, that it was not merely in the polished circles of Calcutta, and under the bright and favouring influences of Lady W., or Lady G., or Miss P., that he was thus astonishingly successful. His attraction was not fashion, but fascination-it was equally powerful over both sexes and in all situations. There was no dip in his magnetism-and in the camp of the torrid desert, or the hut of the snowy Alp-in the quarters of the Ensign, or in the palace of the Rajah, we find him exercising the same omnipotent power. In this respect Jacquemont's work is a real curiosity, and we think it right to exhibit at some length the most marvellous portrait of personal vanity which has ever been produced to our eyes.

'My manners, which I have left natural, and have not made stiff, as it is perhaps expedient to do with the English of the common class, have had the good fortune to please. I have spoken of all things to the best of my ability, and without affectation. Some, perhaps, have liked me [m'ont aimé] on that account; all have shown me [m'ont prodigué attention. Very seldom, I think, has a Frenchman had such extensive and universally agreeable intercourse with the English. I forgot that I knew the language very little ;*—I spoke like a Frenchman. They were infinitely pleased with my want of pretension, my genuine simplicity, and my unaffected manners. My academic dignity from London has been of no use to me, any more than my official title

Jacquemont, in one of his French letters, introduces one of his own English afterdinner speeches, which shows him to have been anything but accurately skilled in our language; but he had previously travelled in the United States of America, and affected, when he arrived in Calcutta, both to speak and write English-with what justice our readers will see at p. 53.

from

from Paris; and no MODESTY can prevent me from saying, that it is on my own personal account [pour moi et à cause de moi] that every one has been so kind and hospitable. Wherever I went, I tried to pay in ready money, by giving some interest and a little diversity to the tiresome monotony of English [life]; talking, in fact-whenever I thought the folks fit to taste that pleasure so little known among the English.'-vol. i. p. 113.

This for one who is obliged to make an effort to shake off even for a moment his natural modesty-is pretty well. We may by-andby say a word or two on the severe judgment against English manners with which he thinks it necessary to contrast and set off the superior fascination of his own: at present, we shall confine ourselves to specimens of his 'genuine simplicity' and 'want of pretension.'

'I know not,' he says, how it is that I inspire such confidence in these people [the English society at Calcutta], that they open their hearts to ME upon points about which they are afraid to speak to each other after years of acquaintance.'-p. 85.

And again :

The English have nothing which resembles what we call society, and are almost universally destitute of that facility which we learn in it, of talking gracefully about nothings, and without dulness on serious subjects. We thus have an immense advantage over them, when we can lead them to a somewhat general conversation, the subject of which is sufficiently familiar to allow us gradually to take It is to this artifice the greatest share in it, and to give it its tone. that I owe most of my success in what they call their society.'-p. 281. That is, the artifice of having all the talk to himself-a practice which does not usually produce such astonishing success in society. He proceeds:

A Frenchman has much greater facility in entering into an Englishman's friendship than another Englishman. They are like bodies similarly electrified, which repel each other. We are decidedly more amiable than they-much more affectionate; and I see that all who are worth anything are CHARMED with my manners.'-p. 102.

But such is his extreme and obstinate modesty, that eighteen months experience did not entirely enlighten him as to the exact source of all this fascination. Of the fact of course he can have no doubt, but he is not quite so clear as to the cause.

'I am not yet,' he writes from the Himalaya in 1831, ' accustomed to the singular attraction which I exercise over the English-its effects often astonish me!'-p. 334.

In another passage he gives us a kind of arithmetical measure of his own good qualities. In stating to his brother the narrowness of his allowance of 6000 francs per annum, he adds,

'I estimate