New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1855-09-04
DAILY CRESCENT
l 1,auarsiness Last Visit 70 'cauas D,orusy.

| M de Lamartins has written, in one Of the
newspapers, biographical and obituary notice
Of the late Duke de Grammont In IL there is
an interesting allusion to the late celebrated
Count DOrsay, which correspondent Of the
Boston Atlas thus translates:
ssone looked in vain among this family pro-
cession for the brother of the Duchess de Gram
mont rsvished few months before tho noon Of
| life from tie tender friendship Of his sister.
The world has not known all it lost in the Count
UOrsay, brother -in-Iaw of the Duke de Gram
mont He was known only by his hereditary
beauty, by his adventures, by bis talents, by
his light celebrities, which would have been ex-
cused IN another, and which possessed eci0E
only because be himself was born brilliant
{" Woe 10 those who shine! their faults share
the splendor Of their nature. NJ de Chauteau-
BRAND, who has spoken Of the Count UUrsay
in his memoirs, has been bitter when he should
have been charitable for the impulsiyeness of
youth and passion. Dante himself does not
speak with that harshness Of the fate of love,
when Francesca de Rimini has spoken, Dante
does not condemn, he does not excuse, he.does
not absolye-he is melted, be pities, he Weeps.
Haught oet a tear should have been given to
that youth OF D0rssy. He quilted that youth
man, and the man gave promise of real tel
snts and solid qualities These natural quail
ties are less esteemed, we know, than acquired
qualities, becanse they cost ne effort; they are
certainly less meritorious, but We do not know
that they are less smabie s5.5
I" Nature has always more grace than voli~
t1on. All was nature in UOrsay, and that ma
ture for 8 moment bowed by excess of wealth,
became vigorously straight amid the agitations
OF misfortune and years. Yet little while, and
France would have cherished in him child
prodigal of his genius Let those who have not
known Count D,Orsay judge him without indul-
genee and justice, but let his friends (ands we
were among them) retrace to themselves in his
person one Of the richest luxuries Of nature.
The very faults and repentance Of his youth
made, so TO say, a part of the perfections of his
manhood. They gave to his ssiu young physi-
ognomy that melancholy which is the increasing
shadow Of our souvenirs our face, a. the sun
of cur life sets in its West; they gave to his
mind that intelligent and merciful tolerance
which one can better bestow on others, when
one has once felt for himself the pleasure and
the necessity. 9
"When during his last and only sickness 10
disease of the hearty we visited in his scuIptor's
studio, in that little museum, changed into o
sick chamber that he might breathe his last be-
lore the objects Of his love, when lying on that
bed of repose in the midst of his paintings, his
marbles, his drawings, his unfinished basts, he
looked like statue of Antinoue, which was un-
colored, without losing a line Of its beauty in
the beams OF the sun, on the eve of sinking from
the sky, we could not tire of contemplating with
q secret tenderness the serenity not to say the
spiendor of that dying man. He lay under no
Illusion, he raised illusions to those who loved
him, to spare them premature grief He
would willingly havr concealed his last sigh to
steal away pain from his friends, from that
sister, from those nieces who we're about to weep
him forever" -.sssl .