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nitude of the undertaking, and when finished, it will | But what gives the greatest interest to this production constitute one of the noblest monuments of public utility that science can raise to the glory of a nation. We are now brought to an epoch, when interests not less considerable, and our national honor, make it a duty to take a direct and active part in the advancement of the geography and navigation of those remote seas hitherto so little known.

The increase of our commerce is such that not less than two to three hundred whaling vessels belonging to our countrymen, with from nine to twelve thousand men, are in the habit of frequenting the Pacific ocean, engaged in pursuits, the profits of which are so much the greater, as in most instances not dependent on a mere exchange of commodities, they are drawn by labor from the bottom of the deep. But these operations are difficult and hazardous, and the lives of the sailors are always in peril. We navigate the whole ocean-but we draw almost all our knowledge of it from the contributions of others. This state of things cannot fail to excite the solicitude of an enlightened people, who wish to fulfil their high destinies.

It has been determined, that a scientific expedition should be despatched to explore the South seas and Pacific ocean. Its primary object, is the promotion of the great interests of commerce, and the advancement of navigation and geography. Promotion of natural sciences is considered an object of great, but secondary importance.

The inquiries relative to these two objects naturally divide themselves into two distinct classes. The first class comprehends all researches referring to nautical art, to hydrography, to geography, to terrestrial magnetism, and to meteorology. These researches are the exclusive province of the officers of the navy, who sail in the expedition. The second class comprehends all the researches relative to the different branches of the natural history of the earth, to the history of the native tribes, to philology, &c. These researches are entrusted particularly to the scientific corps, which is to make part of the expedition, chosen from individu als not of the navy, each one of whom will have special charge of the department under which he is nominated.

August 7, 1839.

PRINCE TALLEYRAND.

To the Editor of the Southern Literary Messenger.

SIR: At a time when the recent death of that extraordinary man Talleyrand, attracts so much attention to his character, I have thought that a translation of the discourse which he delivered at the French Academy, a few months before his decease, might not be altogether unacceptable to your readers. It is in itself a remarkable circumstance, that this veteran statesman and courtier, loaded with years, riches and honors, should at an age so advanced, present himself at the literary tribune. The purpose too was an amiable one, for it was to bear testimony, which he alone could render, to the merits of a man of humble birth, of different religion, and of position and functions, often, comparatively obscure.

is, that it contains the diplomatic creed of perhaps the greatest negotiator of ancient or modern times. It is gratifying to observe, that he repels with something like indignation, the prevalent notion that deception and duplicity are indispensable to the diplomatist. He proclaims good faith, not only to be a duty but a necessary one, in negotiating, as the sole foundation in fact of confidence, but accompanied by discretion and reserve. Dr. Franklin could not have expressed a more true or republican sentiment. In hazarding the opinion that theologians make the best diplomatists, Talleyrand pays an indirect compliment to himself, as he is perhaps the most remarkable illustration of the proposition, which could be adduced. The remarks of the veteran statesman upon the obligation of duty, the religion of duty, as he expressively calls it, are philosophical, sagacious, and well worthy of deep consideration. But I did not set out with the intention of analyzing this remarkable discourse. It is distinguished by an elegant, yet severe simplicity of style, characteristic of the best age of French literature. Clear, yet forcible; pointed, yet flowing; it has none of the faux brillant of the present school. It was listened to with admiration, by an audience composed of all the rank, wit and intelligence of the French metropolis. I have preserved its phraseology, as much as is consistent with the English idiom.

Before I close, I cannot resist the temptation of relating an anecdote which I have never seen in print. It is strikingly illustrative of the perfect self-control of Talleyrand; his impassibility, as the French term it. I think it was in 1827, while attending in his capacity of Grand Chamberlain, the anniversary commemoration of the death of Louis XVI, in the cathedral of St. Denis, as he was leaving the door, he was struck to the earth by a certain de Maubreuil, and remained some time insensible, stunned either by the force of the blow or of the fall. This de Maubreuil asserted, that he had been employed by Talleyrand, after the fall of Napoleon, to attack or assassinate some of the members of the Bonaparte family, in order to recover the crown jewels. He did not succeed in his mission, and when he applied for his reward, as he asserted, Talleyrand refused to recognize him, and ever after persisted in disavowing him. Spurred to frenzy by this alleged neglect, he could find no other means of revenging himself, than by this public outrage. The story of de Maubreuil who was looked upon as deranged, obtained but little credence. I happened during a residence of several years in Paris, to be well acquainted with the Baroness de Bourgoing, widow of a distinguished ambassador, who wrote a very good work on Spain, and mother-in-law of Marshal Macdonald, a woman of superior intelligence and manners, who was then "Surintendante, of the royal establishment of the Legion of Honor at St. Denis." Her house was the resort of the best company, and I recollect, among others, to have spent a morning there with Madame Recamier, so famous in the annals of beauty and fashion. No longer young, she was still unusually attractive in face and person, and of exceedingly modest and interesting manners. She was really what the French call de beaux restes. This by way of episode. To return to my story; a son of Madame de Bourgoing told me, that the Prince, after the outrage, was brought into his mother's apartment, and that as soon as he reVOL. IV.-72

ledge. He knew five or six languages, and was familiar with their various literature. He might have rendered himself celebrated, as a poet, as a historian, or as a geographer; and it was in this last capacity that he became a member of the Institute at its creation,

covered, he ordered himself to be driven to Paris, which Count Reinhart, when I saw him for the first time is five or six miles from St. Denis. Young de Bour- was thirty, and I, thirty-seven years of age. He engoing and another gentleman accompanied him, buttered public life with a large fund of acquired knowalthough he spoke with usual animation upon the ordinary topics, he never once alluded to the occurrence which a few minutes before, had nearly deprived him of life. This proceeded from his habitual caution. He would not trust himself to speak of the event, at such a moment. It was the reserve of the diplomatist. Speaking, in his discourse, of the qualities appropriate to a Minister of Foreign Affairs, he ends by saying “in short, he should not cease, one moment in the twenty-four hours, to be Minister of Foreign Affairs."

Very respectfully your obedient servant, Washington, 27th July, 1938.

J. L. M.

At this epoch, he was already a member of the Academy of Sciences of Gottingen. Born and educated in Germany, he had published in his youth, some poetical efforts, which had honored him with the notice of Gessner, of Wieland, and of Schiller. At a later period, obliged by the state of his health to have recourse to the waters of Carlsbad, he had the good fortune, to meet frequently with the celebrated Goethe, who appreciated his taste and his acquisitions, so well as to desire to be kept informed by him of every thing which produced any sensation in French literature. M. Reinhart promised to oblige him: engagements of this kind be tween men of a superior order, are always reciprocal, and soon become bonds of friendship; those which Gentlemen: I was in America when you were good were formed between M. Reinhart and Goethe, gave enough to elect me a member of the Institute, and to at-rise to a correspondence, which is about to be printed tach me to the class of moral and political sciences, to which, since its origin, I have the honor to belong.

COUNT REINHART.

A Discourse pronounced by M. de Talleyrand at the Academy of Moral and Political Sciences of Paris, on the 3d March,

1938.

Upon my return to France, my first care was to at tend its sittings, and to express to the persons who then composed it, many of whom have bequeathed us just regrets, the pleasure which I felt at being one of their colleagues. At the first sitting at which I was present, I had the honor of being appointed secretary. The minutes, which for the space of six months, it was my duty to record, with all the care of which I was capable, exhibited perhaps, in too great a degree, the indications of my diffidence; for I was called upon to describe a work with which I was by no means familiar. This work, which had doubtless cost one of our most learned colleagues, much time and labor, was entitled: "A Dissertation upon Ripary laws." About the same time, I also read, at our public meetings, several papers, which, thanks to the indulgence accorded to me, were inserted in the memoirs of the Institute. Since that period forty years have elapsed, during which time, this Tribune has been in a manner interdicted to me, first, by frequent absence; then, by occupations to which duty compelled me to devote myself entirely; I should add also, by the discretion which difficult times exact of a public man; and at last, by the infirmities which age generally brings with it, or, which it never fails, at least, to aggravate.

in Germany.

It will be learned from thence, that having arrived at that time of life, when it becomes necessary to decide upon a profession, M. Reinhart reflected deeply upon himself, upon his tastes, his position and that of his family, before coming to a determination; and then, what was remarkable at such a time, to a career which might have made him independent, he preferred one in which it was not possible to be so. He gave the preference to the diplomatic career, and he did well; adapted to all the employments of this profession, he filled them all successively, and all with distinction.

I will hazard the opinion here, that he had been happily prepared for it by his early studies. That of theology, particularly, in which he had distinguished himself at the seminary of Denkendorf, and in that of the Protestant Faculty at Tubingen, had given him a force and at the same time a suppleness of logic, which is to be observed in all the productions of his pen. To escape the apprehension of yielding to an idea which might seem paradoxical, I feel myself obliged to recall here, the names of several of our great negotiators, all theologians, and all distinguished in history for having conducted the most important political affairs of their time; the cardinal chancellor Duprat, equally versed in the civil and canon law, who settled with Leo X the basis of the Concordat, of which several dispositions are still in force: cardinal d'Ossat, who in spite of the efforts of several great powers, succeeded in reconciling Henry IV to the court of Rome, the collection of whose letters is still prescribed to young men destined to public business: cardinal de Polignac, theologian, poet and negotiator, who, after so many disastrous wars, was ent

But to-day, I feel it a desire and a duty, to present myself here, for the last time, that the memory of a man known to all Europe, of a man whom I loved, and who, from the formation of the Institute was our colleague, might receive a public testimony of our esteem and regret. His position and mine, enable me to proclaim, at least partially, his merits. His chief, I will not say his only title to renown, consists in a corres-bled, by the treaty of Utrecht, to preserve to France, the pondence, of forty years, necessarily unknown to the public, and which, probably, it will never see. "Who, I said to myself, will speak of it, within this precinct, if it be not I, who received the greater part of it, to whom it was always so entertaining, and sometimes so useful in the ministerial duties which I fulfilled under three reigns......so different?"

conquests of Louis XIV. It was also in the midst of theological books, that his father, then bishop of Gap, commenced the education of M. de Lyonne, whose name has acquired a new lustre by a recent and important publication.

The names which I have just cited, appear to me sufficient to sustain the influence which, in my opinion,

was exerted upon M. Reinhart by the early studies | ministry, and that even while leading it to his opinion, to which he had been directed by paternal care.

his success must remain in the shade; for he knew, that he ought to shine with a reflected light alone; but he knew likewise, that no small share of consideration

The various and solid knowledge, which he had acquired, caused him to be called to Bordeaux, to fulfil the honorable and modest duties of preceptor in a Protes-is naturally attached to so pure and modest a life. tant family of that city.

There, he naturally found himself in relation with several of the men, whose talents, errors and death, threw so much éclat upon our first legislative assembly. M. Reinhart, was easily persuaded by them to attach himself to the service of France.

I will not constrain myself to follow him step by step, through the vicissitudes which marked his long career. In the numerous employments confided to him, of an order sometimes superior, sometimes inferior, there seems to be an incongruity, an absence of catenation, which is difficult to conceive, at present. But at that period as little prejudice was attached to places, as to persons. In other times, favor, sometimes discernment, called men to eminent stations. At the period of which I speak, every position was conquered. Such a state of things soon leads to confusion.

The spirit of observation of M. Reinhart did not stop there; it had led him to discover how rare is the combination of qualities necessary to a minister of foreign affairs. A minister of foreign affairs should be endowed with a sort of instinct, which giving him prompt notice, prevents him, before discussion, from ever compromitting himself. He requires the faculty of appearing open while he is impenetrable; of being reserved with an air of carelessness; of being politic even in the choice of his recreations: his conversation must be simple, various, unexpected, always natural and sometimes ingenuous; in a word, he should never cease, for one moment in the twenty-four hours, to be minister of foreign affairs.

Nevertheless, all these qualities, rare as they are, might not suffice, if good faith did not furnish them with a guarantee of which they almost always stand in need. Thus we see M. Reinhart, first Secretary of Legation No, I must pronounce it here, in order to destroy a at London-occupying the same place at Naples-Mi- prejudice which generally prevails, diplomacy is not nister Plenipotentiary near the Hanseatic towns, Ham-a science of cunning and duplicity. If good faith is burg, Bremen and Lubec-Head of the third division ever necessary, it is chiefly so in public transactions, in the department of foreign affairs-Minister Plenipo- for it is this which renders them solid and durable. Retentiary at Florence-Minister of Foreign Relations-serve has been confounded with deception. Good faith Minister Plenipotentiary in Helvetia-Consul General never authorises deception, but it permits reserve, and at Milan-Minister Plenipotentiary near the circle of reserve has this peculiarity, that it augments confidence. Lower Saxony-Resident in the Turkish provinces be- Governed by the honor and interest of his country, yond the Danube, and commissary general of commer- by the honor and interest of his prince, by the love of cial relations in Moldavia-Minister Plenipotentiary liberty founded upon order and upon the rights of all, near the king of Wirtemberg-Director of the Chan-a minister of foreign affairs, if he understands his posicellery of the department of foreign affairs-Minister tion, is thus placed in the noblest situation to which an Plenipotentiary near the Germanic Diet, and of the elevated mind can aspire. free city of Frankfort,-and last of all, Minister Plenipotentiary at Dresden.

How many places, how many duties, how many interests, confided to one man, and that at an epoch, when talents seemed to be the less appreciated, as war appeared to take charge of every thing!

You will not expect it of me, gentlemen, to recount in detail and in order of date, all the labors of M. Reinhart in the different employments, which you have just heard enumerated. This would require a book.

I am to speak to you only of the manner in which he comprehended the functions which he had to fulfil, whether as a head of division, minister or consul. Although M. Reinhart had not then the advantage, which he enjoyed some years later, of studying excellent models, he already knew, how many and how diverse qualities, should distinguish a head of division in the department of foreign affairs. A delicate tact had taught him that his habits should be simple, regular, retired; that, a stranger to the turmoil of the world, he should live for business alone, and vow to it an impenetrable secrecy; that, ever ready to give information on men and things, he should always have present in his memory, the whole series of treaties; know historically their dates; discern with accuracy their strong and feeble points, their antecedents and their consequences; recollect in fine the names of the principal negotiators, and even their family relations; yet that while employing this knowledge, he should take care not to alarm the pride of the

After having been a skilful minister, how many things must yet be known to be a good consul! for the duties of a consul are infinitely various; they are of a character totally different from those of the other functionaries of foreign affairs. They demand much practical knowledge for which a particular education is necessary. Consuls are in a situation to be called upon to exercise towards their countrymen, to the extent of their jurisdiction, the functions of judges, arbitrators and mediators; they are often civil officers; they perform the task of notaries, often that of naval administrators; they determine questions of sanatary regulation; it is they who, by their stated communications, can give a just and complete account of the state of commerce, navigation and manufactures of the countries in which they reside. Accordingly M. Reinhart, who neglected nothing in order to assure himself of the accuracy of the information, which he was able to communicate to his government, and the justice of the decisions he was called upon to make, as a political or consular agent, or as naval administrator, had made a profound study of national and maritime law. This study had led him to the belief, that a time would come, when by contrivances skilfully prepared, a general system of commerce and navigation might be established, in which the interests of all nations should be respected, and with such a basis, that war could not alter the principle, even though it should suspend some of its consequences. He was also skilled to resolve with certainty and prompti

tude all questions of exchange, of arbitration, of the| conversion of currency, weights and measures, and all this without a single remonstrance ever having been addressed, against the information which he gave, or the decisions which he pronounced. It is true, indeed, that the personal consideration which accompanied him throughout his career, gave weight to his intervention in the transactions referred to his examination or arbitration.

But extensive as the knowledge of a man may be, however large his capacity, a perfect diplomatist is rare; yet M. Reinhart would perhaps have been one, had he possessed one more faculty: he saw and comprehended clearly; pen in hand, he described admirably what he had seen or heard. His style was copious, easy, lively and pointed; hence of all the diplomatic correspondence, there was none to which the Emperor Napoleon, who was necessarily and by right difficult to please, did not prefer that of Count Reinhart. But this same man who wrote admirably, expressed himself with difficulty. To develope itself, his mind required more time than could be obtained in conversation. In order that his internal language might readily reproduce itself, it was necessary that he should be alone and unaccompanied.

In spite of this real inconvenience, M. Reinhart succeeded always, in doing and doing well too, every thing with which he was charged. Where then did he find the means of success? Whence came his inspirations?

He derived them, gentlemen, from a true and profound sentiment which governed all his actions-from the sentiment of duty. The efficacy of this sentiment is not sufficiently understood. A life devoted entirely to duty, is very easily disengaged from ambition. The life of M. Reinhart, was one devoted entirely to the duties which he had to perform, without ever exhibiting a trace of personal calculation, or of pretension to precipitate advancement.

This religion of duty, to which M. Reinhart was faithful all his life, consisted in an exact submission to the instructions and orders of his principals; in an unceasing vigilance which, united to great perspicacity, never left them in ignorance of what it was requisite they should know; in a scrupulous veracity in all his communications, were they pleasant or disagreeable; in an impenetrable discretion; in a regularity of life which invoked confidence and esteem; in a decorous bearing; in fine, in a constant attention to give to the acts of his government that color and those explanations which were called for by the intent of the affairs in which he participated.

Although age had indicated to M. Reinhart the time for repose, he would never have asked to retire, such was his fear of exhibiting a lukewarmness to serve in a career which had been that of his whole life. It was necessary, that the royal beneficence, always so attentive, should anticipate him, by giving to this great. servant of France, the most honorable station, in calling him to the Chamber of Peers.

Count Reinhart did not enjoy this honor sufficiently long; he died, almost suddenly, on the twenty-fifth of December, 1837.

M. Reinhart was twice married. He left a son by his first marriage, who has entered upon political life. The best wish that can be made for the son of such a father, is, that he may resemble him.

THE BLIND DAUGHTER. BY ELORA.

Around a cottage-door

Bright honey-suckles twined, And roses, of the richest bloom, Were lavish of their sweet perfume,

To charm the evening wind. Not yet the sun had left the sky, Though the pale moon was rising high.

Soft fell the purple light

On flower and guardian tree;
It wandered o'er the moss-grown eaves,
And played among the dancing leaves,
Like a spirit-silently;

At last it found a resting place
Upon a pale and quiet face.

Alas, for earthly joy!

Death had been busy there ;-
And yet so lightly did he pass,
He had not bent one blade of grass,
Or stirred the summer air.
But ah, too surely aimed his dart
Against one true and loving heart!

Smooth o'er the marble brow

Reposed the glossy hair,
While here and there a tress of gray,
Amid its jet, like silver ray,

Tokened of grief and care.
But on the lips there lingered yet
The seal which parting love had set!
No sound shall wake her more

Whether of joy or woe:

All vainly doth her loved one weep,
She heeds not in her dreamless sleep,
Whose tears of sorrow flow.
Ah happy, that she doth not see
Her daughter's hopeless agony.

Woe, for that weeping girl!

Hers is a mournful lot. For though her eyes like violets bright, Are beauteous in the starry light,

Like them, she seeth not.

Hark! while her tears of anguish flow,
She speaks in broken music low.

"Oh, God! It cannot be―

I could bear all but this!

I have not murmured that these eyes
Looked not upon the glorious skies,
Thy home of light and bliss.

I asked no more to make me blest
Than in my mother's arms to rest.

"Her voice was always soft

I never knew it chide;
And often when I'd hear them tell
The color of some floweret's bell,
I felt a tender pride,
In thinking it was like a word
Of music, from my mother heard.

"I loved to kiss her brow

Her lip, her cheek, her hand ;To twine my fingers in her hair, Far-floating o'er her shoulders bare, Loosed at my gay command. And I was happy, till there came The blight of sickness o'er her frame !

"Then burst the tempest forth!

Her voice grew faint and lowEach day I felt she was more weak-Until at last she could not speak, Or I her wishes know. Vainly I bent my eager earShe tried to tell-I could not hear!

"Her friends came kindly in,

They tended her with care; They answered to her asking eye With ever-ready sympathy Whilst I sat idle there.

Yes, I, who loved her more than all, Sat useless by the cottage wall.

"But when at last they told

My mother soon must die,
When I stood breathless by the bed,

And some one came to me, and said,
For the last time her eye,
Loving and as an angel mild,
Was gazing on her darling child;

"Maddened and sick at heart,

I strained my sightless eyes;
But all was dark-no blessed ray
To show me where my mother lay
Fell from the pitying skies.

I could not mark each change that came
In warning o'er her gentle frame.

"I thought my heart would break,

Knowing she looked on me-
That o'er each feature of my face
She lingered with a dying gaze—
A gaze I might not see!
Silent I stood-as turned to stone-
Waiting to hear her parting groan.

"I felt her hand grow cold

It tightened in its grasp ;—
My tears were frozen in my heart,
Until at length they tried to part

Her fingers from their clasp.
Then with a storm of anguish vain,
They gushing fell like summer rain.

"Who now will lead my feet

Where whispering waters glide? Or sit with me beneath the trees, Sweet converse holding with the breeze, That roams the forest wide ? Or rest, amid the odorous bowers, To hear the murmurs of the flowers?

"Mother! we will not part

Death cannot long divide. But in a far-off world of light,

Where God shall gift thy child with sight

We'll wander side by side.

Joyful I spring to thy embrace
Seeing at last thy blessed face!"

She paused-her eager ear

Had caught the warning sound Of voices and approaching feetShe waited not their steps to greet, But with a sudden bound Towards the bier, ope cry she gave, And died with her she could not save! Philadelphia, 1838.

MISS SEDGWICK.

To Mr. T. W. WHITE,

Editor of Southern Literary Messenger. My Dear Sir:-Being at present much occupied with domestic duties, and never in the habit of writing for more dignified periodicals than souvenirs, and having nothing better to send you than the following passages, I should have foreborne, but that I wished to express to you my desire to comply with your request, and my very grateful sense of your repeated attentions in sending your valuable Journal to me, and that during this hot season I imagine quantity may sometimes be desirable to you (as filling up) independent of quality.

Believe me, my dear sir,

Very respectfully and gratefully, yours,

Stockbridge, Mass. July 20, 1838.

PASSAGES

C. M. SEDGWICK.

FROM A JOURNAL AT ROCKAWAY.

If there is any time at which the love of nature is felt to be an universal passion-a love to which all other loves should be sacrificed-it is at the coming on of Spring, when Nature is to our senses a manifestation of the Creator-a realization of that belief of ancient philosophy, that in nature the Almighty Spirit lived and moved and had it's being. Even the poor pent-up denizen of the city, cabined, cribbed, confined as he is, at this season, when nature visibly begins her beautiful processes-makes some demonstrations that the love of her is not dead within him: the trees he has planted, (God's witnesses amidst brick walls) the birds (albeit stolen from their natural habitations in the green wood) in their cages, and the carefully tended plants at the open windows are signs of this love.

Those who have passed their childhood where Nature's choicest temples are fixed-who may be said, in some humble sort, to have served at her altars, are most impatient at the actual discomforts as well as privations of a summer city life. I do not know that I ever experienced a more delightful sensation than that produced a few days since by a change from New York to Rockaway-from frying in the city, to the life-giving breezes of this magnificent sea-shore. Perhaps neither heat nor cold should be positive evils to those in tolerable health; but who is stoical enough to be independent of them? No topic, not morals, politics, nor even religion, is, from the beginning to the end of life, so

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