known that a considerable degree of bitterness and animosity subsisted amongst the orientalists of France down to the death of Langlès, in 1825. Upon the decease of this personage, the post of Keeper of the Oriental MSS. in the Royal Library became vacant, as well as that of Professor of Persian in the School of Living Languages. M. de Chézy, who had received the decoration of the Legion of Honour in 1815, and been enrolled, in the following year, amongst the members of the illustrious Academy of Inscriptions and Belles-Lettres, seems to have confidently reckoned upon filling the former post, to which he was recommended not only by eminent qualifications, but by having frequently officiated as the substitute of M. Langlès in his double functions, and by his having been attached to the royal library for a period of twenty-four years. The post of conservateur was, however, given to M. Rémusat, for what reason or through what influence is unknown; and M. de Chézy was appointed to the professorship of Persian." His wishes," says M. de Sacy, "were not equivocal; his claims were incontestable; they were, however, overlooked. This mistake on the part of the government, might have been excused, and besides, from the eminence to which M. de Chézy had exalted his name, he might, perhaps he should, have regarded it with indifference. It was otherwise, however; and, unhappily, the disappointment embittered the remainder of his days, and probably deprived literature of some work, with which, in a more tranquil frame of mind, he might have enriched it."

The star of M. Rémusat was in the ascendant, and upon the retirement of the Baron de Sacy from the station of President of the Asiatic Society of Paris, of which M. de Chézy was one of the earliest members, M. Rémusat succeeded him.

It is melancholy to think of the pangs which these supposed mortifications inflicted upon one, who seems, from a variety of testimonies, to have been of a disposition as tender and benevolent as it was modest and unassuming. "M. de Chézy," says an informant, "was one of the kindest and most amiable Frenchmen I have ever met." Fidèle et tendre are the epithets applied to him by his venerable master, De Sacy. "Although disease and vexation may have saddened his heart," observes M. Naudet, "they did not sour his character. The effusions of friendship were, to him, a necessary, a consolation; resentment, if he had any, was an inconvenience, as it were something foreign to his nature. He was kind and affectionate from inclination, always devoid of envy, upright and sincere."

From the funeral oration of the personage whose words we have just quoted, the learned president of the Institute, we extract the following eulogium on the intellectual character of M. de Chézy: "Learning was to him a kind of poesy. The vivacity of his imagination, the sensibility of his soul, disposed him to identify himself, by the closest sympathy, with the brilliant and fanciful inventions of eastern genius; and poetic sentiment not unfrequently enabled him, by a species of divination, to resolve the greatest difficulties, arising from its delicate and daring combinations of ideas; difficulties which would have foiled the utmost skill of the mere grammarian. Hence it is that he was qualified to transfuse into his felici

tous translations the delicacy, the splendour, and the sweetness of the Indian Virgil. What a charın, what a power there is in a study which delights us! How it lifts us above besieging ills, and even sometimes makes us forget their very existence! Knowing, as we do, how long M. de Chézy complained of an infirmity under which he was gradually sinking, we could not help wondering how it was that, in his state of bodily suffering, his mind could entertain such pleasing inspirations; how he could diffuse so much freshness and amenity over those faithful copies of the masterpieces of a poesy so graceful and so gay, whilst incessantly oppressed and absorbed by decaying health and the contemplation of approaching death. His last pages on Sacoontala are but a few months' old; they were his last diversions from the dark presentiments which tormented him: they were like the flowers which blossom about a tomb."

We subjoin, in conclusion, a passage from the funeral oration of the Baron de Sacy, on account of its striking and impressive character:

"Where shall I find words to express the sentiments of grief and anguish which oppress my thoughts and harrow my feelings, in the presence of this grave, about to close for ever over one who, for more than forty years, cherished a filial attachment towards me, and whose loss has inflicted the keenest wound of all upon a heart, deeply smitten already by strokes which have succeeded each other with unexampled rapidity, and with scarcely the intermission of a single moment! Champollion, Rémusat, Saint-Martin, Sedillot, and you especially, faithful and affectionate Chézy, members of a family whom a community of tastes and studies kept so long associated with him whom you loved to regard as your head, and who enjoyed in your fame and success the precious fruits of a soil, the culture of which had been confided to him by Providence! in how short a space have you been all mowed down, and he alone remains, standing in the midst of ruins, aghast at the awful silence which reigns around him, and so absorbed in the magnitude of his losses, as to be almost insensible to the eager and soothing consolations offered to him by those, who were once your fellow-disciples, and are now partakers of his deep affliction !"

The death of M. de Chézy took place the latter end of August last, in the sixtieth year of his age.

*

His works are not numerous. He published the Persian poem of Mejnoon and Leila; and in 1831, he printed, under the name of Apudy, an extract and translation of the century of erotic verses, by the poet Amaru. He has likewise published a Theory of the Sloka, or Sanscrit heroic metre. His principal work is "Sacontala, Drame Indien, publié d'après le Manuscrit de la Bibliothèque du Roi, avec une Traduction nouvelle et des Notes." A few days prior to his death, he completed the transcription of the Dhourtta Samágama, a Sanscrit drama, the manuscript of which has been placed in the hands of M. de Sacy, and will probably be printed. It is expected that an analysis of the Rámáyana will be found amongst his papers; he frequently mentioned it, and had undertaken to revise it this winter.

* His own name latinized, the word chez being rendered by the corresponding word apud.

SCENES IN THE MOFUSSIL.

No. I.-CAWNpore.

ALTHOUGH to many of the readers of the Asiatic Journal the foreign names of places and things, adopted by European residents in India, must be familiar, yet, for the benefit of country gentlemen, &c. it will be necessary to explain and translate such words as the Mofussil, which cannot fail to puzzle and perplex uninitiated ears. The Mofussil is a term applied to the provinces; all the places, inhabited by Europeans, beyond the presidency, are called Mofussil stations, and the residents are entitled Mofussillites; but as there is nothing invidious or disrespectful in this term, those who may have barbarized a little during their seclusion in wilds and fastnesses are styled, par distinction, "jungle wallahs." I never could make out the precise meaning of the word wallah; it is usually translated 'fellow;' but to the natives of India, who apply it indiscriminately to all sorts of persons, trades, and professions, it does not convey the idea which we attach to this expression in England.

Cawnpore is one of the principal stations of the Mofussil, and is situated upon the right bank of the Ganges, about 600 miles from Calcutta. It is seldom that this cantonment has received common justice from its describers, the duty being rather annoying; military men, who, except upon service, usually object to the toils and tasks of their profession, dislike it because they are, what they are pleased to style, harassed by inspections, field-days, drills, committees, &c. &c. Those who do not choose to avow the real cause of their disgust, complain that it is dusty and hot; but these are disadvantages which it must share with all the stations within some hundred miles, while they are more than counterbalanced by the numerous enjoyments afforded by its superior size and the number of its inhabitants. With the exception of the Ganges, which rolls its broad waves beside the British lines, nature has done little for Cawnpore; but the sandy plain, broken occasionally into ravines, which forms its site, has been so much embellished by the hand of man, that an unprejudiced person, not subjected to the miseries of field-days, will not hesitate to say that it possesses much picturesque beauty. The garrison consists of a European regiment of dragoons, and one of native cavalry; several battalions of infantry, horse, and foot; one King's, and three Company's regiments of infantry; a majorgeneral in command; and the numerous staff attached to the head-quarters of a large district. There are few civilians, two judges and two collectors, with their assistants, comprising the whole of the Company's civil servants (the aristocracy of India), who are stationed at Cawnpore. These personages, having far better allowances, and being settled in one place for a longer period, have handsomer houses, more numerous trains of servants, and live in better style than the military residents; but the difference at Cawnpore is not so remarkable as at many other stations, on account of the high rank, and consequently the large incomes, of many of the officers belonging to the garrison. Two or three indigo-planters in the neighbourhood complete the grande monde of Cawnpore; but there are other British

residents, who form a second circle, the owners of shops and farms, coachmakers, bakers, and tailors, to whom it must be a much more desirable place of abode than a smaller station, since it affords them the advantage of society. A solitary individual, belonging to a class which is not considered visitable in India, must feel peculiarly isolated: though he might be inclined to stoop to a lower grade, excepting where there is a European regiment, he cannot find associates from his own country; and even an intimate acquaintance with the language could scarcely enable an Englishman to feel any gratification in a companionship with Hindoos or Moosulmans, though of a rank superior to his own.

One objection made to Cawnpore is its want of concentration; the lines of the various regiments straggle to the distance of five miles along the river's bank, and it is deemed a hardship to travel so far to visit a friend : but the scene is thereby agreeably diversified, and the compounds (a corruption of the Portuguese word campania), which surround the bungalows, are larger than could be the case if its limits were more circumscribed. Many of these compounds are beautifully planted, and have a very parklike appearance, particularly during the rainy season, when the cultivated parts of the plain have put on their green mantle. The prickly pear is greatly in request for fences, and the tall pagoda-like aloe, with a base resembling the crown of a gigantic pine-apple, frequently intervening, forms a magnificent embellishment to the plantation. The houses at Cawnpore are, with very few exceptions, cutcha, that is, built of unbaked mud, and either choppered (thatched) or tiled; but they are, generally speaking, extremely large and commodious. The plans of bungalows are various, but the most common consist of three centre rooms; those opening on the front and back verandah being smaller than the one occupying the interior, which is called the hall; these rooms communicate with three others, much narrower on each side, and at the four corners are bathing rooms, taken off the verandah, which stretches all round. The centre, and largest room, has only the borrowed lights permitted by eight, ten, or twelve doors leading out of the surrounding apartments: these doors are always open, but some degree of privacy is obtained by a curtain attached to each, of a sort of gauze-work, formed of bamboo split very fine, and coloured green; these also serve to keep out the flies, while they admit air and all the light considered necessary by an Anglo-Indian, who seldom allows a single ray to penetrate into his sanctum sanctorum. Many of the Cawnpore houses are splendidly furnished, the chairs, tables, and sofas being of valuable wood, richly carved, with cushions and coverings of damask: but the absence of curtains, pictures, and looking-glasses, which harbour too many musquitos and other insects to be introduced with impunity, and the bareness of the walls, whose sole ornaments consist of lamps in glass shades, detract from the general effect. The floors, which are of chunam (finely tempered lime), are covered, in the first instance, with a matting, and in the second, with a setringee, a peculiar manufacture of the country, of an exceedingly thick texture, and usually woven in shaded blue stripes; or with calico printed in Brussels patterns, and so closely resembling a carpet as to

deceive all save practised eyes. This forms the general decoration of the houses in the upper provinces; and as it may appear to Europeans to be a very indifferent substitute for our worsted manufactures, it may be necessary to say a few words in explanation. With a little care, this apparently fragile material will last three years; for as the servants never enter the house with their feet covered, and the boots and shoes of the male residents or visitors, not being much used for walking, are lighter and less destructive than those intended for pedestrians, comparatively little damage is done to the floorcloth. The bungalow will require a new chopper, and a general repair, once in three years, and when this takes place, new cloths are put down. At Mirzapore, a native city between Benares and Allahabad, there is a manufactory for carpets, which are scarcely if at all inferior to those of Turkey but this fabric is too thick and warm for Indian wear, excepting during the cold season. The exterior of a bungalow is usually very unpicturesque, bearing a strong resemblance to an overgrown barn; the roof slopes down from an immense height to the verandah, and whatever be the covering, whether tiles or thatch, it is equally ugly in many places the cantonments present to the eye a succession of huge conical roofs, resting upon low pillars; but in Cawnpore the addition of stone fronts to some of the houses, and of bowed ends to others, give somewhat of architectural ornament to the station. The gardens rank amongst the finest in India. In consequence of their being so many settled residents, they are much cultivated and improved; all the European vegetables, with the exception of broad beans, come to great perfection during the cold season, and the grapes and peaches, which are not common to other stations, are particularly fine. The pineapple does not grow in the upper provinces, but the mangos, plantains, melons, oranges, shaddocks, custard-apples, limes, and guavos, are of the finest quality. These gardens, intermixed with forest trees, give Cawnpore a very luxuriant appearance; it is an oasis reclaimed from the desert, for all around wastes of sand extend to a considerable distance. In the centre of the cantonments, and on the highest ground, are two stone buildings of a very imposing exterior,-the assembly-rooms and the theatre; the latter, a long oval, surrounded by a colonnade of pillars of the Roman Doric order, though ornamental to the station, is not very well adapted to the purpose for which it was intended: a horse-shoe form would have been better suited for the accommodation of an audience, for the spectators, who are seated in the back rows of the pit (there are no boxes) have little chance of hearing what is going on upon the stage. Beyond the theatre, the road leads to the race-course, which is approached by a long avenue well planted on either side, and well watered during the dry season. This avenue forms the evening drive, and at sunset it is thronged with carriages of every description, and equestrians mounted upon all sorts of horses. Chariots, barouches, brichtskas, and double phatons, fresh from the best builders of London or Calcutta, appear amid old coaches, old sociables, ricketty landaus, buggies, stanhopes, tilburies, and palanquin-carriages, the latter not unfrequently drawn by bullocks, and all in various stages of dilapidation, for no one in India cares about being seen in a shabby vehicle; those which