The New York Herald Newspaper, August 22, 1869, Page 5

NEW YORK HERALD, SYADAY, AUGUST 22, 1869—TRIPLE SHEET. to read olf Annus) Registers and the and gathering shells on the tnore, and the growth of stunted goosberry to he garden, that I have neither time nor sense to gay more than yours ever.” And once matey within aiweek, ‘I have been very comfortable here, listenini to that — monologue which elderly gentlemen ca’ conversation, and in which my pious tather-in-law Fepeats himself every evening save one, when he Played u pon the tiddle.” In these earlier letters, written within two months of the marriage, Mr. Moore found such signs of strong conjugal affection and biiss as stilled thy fears piven had haunted him, lest the happiness of Lord Byron should be endangered by the lot be, had chosen for himself; in other words, by his @? mage With such a woman as Migs Milbanke. But! nese in- dications of a contented heart soon cersed. The Mention of the wife became more rare and formal, and there was observable a feeling © unquiet and weariness which brought back a), the gloomy an- tat eRe ‘sher had from the fy eens @ Diogra: ed the poet’s fate. ‘iy the last letter be- fore the separation, in which “ord Byron announced the birth of his daughter, “ere were longings for the other pide of the Sivalts of Gibraltar, and for a sight of Olympus Gnd @ sigh:—‘I have now been married a year on the 2d of this month. Heigh-ho!’ in which Moore perceived some return of the rest- Yess and roving spirit Which unhappiness or impa- tence always called 1p; and he knew that it was the habit of the writes mind, under the pressure of a or disquiet, to seek relief in that sense of lom which told him that there were homes for him elsewhere, From his return to London until the day that his wife left him, a period of ten months, we have but few and far between glimpses of his domestic life. In the interval bis daughter was born, and Lora Wentworth died. Of the expected birth, the father, many months before it happened, wrote vhat it was @ subject upon which he was not particularly anxiou: except that he thought it would please his wife's un cle, Lord Wentworth, and her father and mother. On the eve of the uncie’s funeral he went to Drury Lane ,theatre, and, in his ae box, with Sir James Mackintosh, clapped till his hands were skin- less. His biographer, having before him Lord oan journals, has not thought fit to tell more of his daily life, for a month. and a month after the birth of has daughter, than that, in the beginning ofthe period, he was drunk, day after day, with Shewidan. The interest, he says, which the details Would possess, ‘now that their first zest as a subject of scandal 18 gone by,” “would be too aligit to justify me in entering upon them more particularly.” A abpallow excuse for such reserve at tne very crisis of the poet's life, More likely causes might be found, and, among them, that the journals would have con- tradicted Mr. Moore’s story of the separatiou. That his wife’s sorrow in childbirth was aggravated by his unkindness he himselt bears witness, He had breathed upon her “the breath of bitter words; their child was “born in bitterness and nurtured In convulsion,” and the bitterness was altogether his own; be never had, or could have, any reproach to make against her; the fault of the cruel separation Jay with him alone, Adding his confession that he had a soul “which not only tormented Itself, but everybody else in contact with it;” his intimations that, following the doctrine of William of Nassau, he chose to go wherever he had a mind, and never dreamed his lady was concerned, From these revelations his wife’s wretchedness May, in some degree, be imagined, From her we Jearn, incidentally, that during the latter part of her tay in London, she saw little of her husband; that, twenty-seven days after the birth of her culld, ne signified to her, in writing, his absolute desire that she should leave London on the earliest day that she could conveniently 1x, and that she went ac- cordingly, And what manner of woman was she to Whom the vow to love, honor and cherish, had been thus Kept? Let her husband tell—speaking “in the very dregs of” the “bitter business’—immediateiy after she had enforced separation, and while, a3 the consequence of the separation, he was suffering unexampled public shame, was out- Jawed in the general opinion, an exile with- out hope, without pride without alleviation. “I must set you right in one point, however. The fault was not, no, nor even the misfortune, in my ‘choice’ (unless in choosing at all): for Ido not be- Neve, and | must say it in the very dregs of all this bitter business, that there ever was a better, or even @ brighter, a kinder, or @ more amiable and agree- ge being than Lady Byron, I never had, nor can ave, any reproach to make her while with me. ‘Where there is blame it belongs to myself, and if I connot redeem, I must bear it." « * * Inthe “Portratis” of the Countess Al- brizzi she writes of Lord Byron at Ventce:—“‘Speak- ing of his marriage—a delicate subject, but one still agreeable to him, if it was treated in @ friendly voice—he was greatly Moved and said it had been ‘the innocent cause of all his errors and all his griefs. Of his wife he spore with much respect and affec- tion. He said she was an illustrious lady, distin- guished for the qualities of her heart and under. Atanding, and that all the fault of their cruel separa- tion lay with himself.” As a taunt against hia wife he wrote:—'‘She was governed by what she called Axed rules and principles.”’ There is a remarkable in 2 letter to Murray, a letter which, coupled ‘With one to Moore, shows the wife’s delight in shar- ing, as a humble minister, tn the Elory of her hus- and. A few weeks after their m: lage he sent to Moore, in Lady Byron’a handwriting, the verses which begin:— ‘There's not @ joy the world can give like that it takes away. Some days before the day on which he expressed his absolute desire that she shonid leave his house, he sent to Murray manuscripts, also in his wife’s handwriting, of “The Siege of Corinth and Parisi- ba,” and wrote presently afterwards:— Tam d that the handwriting was @ favorable omen of tho moral of tne piece; but you must pot trunt to that, for my copyist would write out anything I desired in all the rance of innocence. I hope, however, in this instauce, with no great peril to either. How could Lord Byron #0 soon grow weary of, and ‘neglect, and breathe bitter words against, a gt 80 bright Cae petted fs yas mae le, so agreeable, of such exqu purity an truth? 1t might bave been thought that he would find, to borrow the words of Mr. Moore, ‘‘those ami of ideal good and beauty that surround him in his musings,” rather in the society of his wife than of those whom he t before and after mar- riage. But he had followed a course of life which hardens the heart and depraves the taste, though seldom so cruelly, and so utterly, as in him; and marriage, if it does not purify the sensualist, does but give adarker hue to his pollution. Lady Byron was no mate for the man whose thouguts of women ‘Were such as these:— Regn re of the state of women under the ancient Greeks, en! tate a remnant of the barbar- ead neither poetry nor politics—nothing but books of piety ‘and cookery. Music, drawing, dancing; also a little garden- nd ploughinj T have deen them mend. ng the roads in ‘The sort of plety which he contemplated appears in his story of a Virago, the es favorite of his harem at Venice:—‘She was very devout.) What- ever Lady Byron suffered from neglect, weariness, disquiet, disgust or bitternesg, she concealed. Her father and mother were unacquaimted with any cause of unhappiness. There was not a murmur abroad that the course of ber married life had not run smooth. Her child was born on the 10th of December, 1815. On the 6th of the next month she received, in writ- ing, her husband’s absolute desire that she should leave London, She hada strong impression that he was insane—her opinion being derived, in a great measure, Irom communications made to her by his nearest relatives and is ~ personal attend- ant, who had more opportunities: than whe had of observing him during the latter part of her stay in London, It was sepresented to her that he was in danger of destroying himself. Lord Byron allows that she really did helieve him tobe mad. On vhe 8th of January, with the con- currence of his family, she consulted Dr. Baillie as a friend. Not having the opportunity of seeing Lord Byron, he could not give a positive opinion; but be- ing informed of his wish that Lady Byron should Jeave London, he thought her absence desirable, ag av experiment. He enjoined that in her letters she should avoid all but light and soothing topics, She left London on the ith of January. that day, and the next, when she arrived at her father’s house, she wrote to her husband in # kind and cheerful tone. She told her parents of the opinion which had been formed of his state of mind, and * they assured the relations who were with him in London that if he would visit them, they would de- ‘vote thetr whole care to tne alleviation of his malady, On the 17th of January Lady Noel wrote to Lord Byron, inviting him to Kirkby Mallory. Reports which Lady Byron received from the persons in constant intercourse with him, and from his medi- cal attendant, increased doubts, which nad already crossed her mind, whether anything like lunacy did, Mn fact, exist, In this uncertainty she judged it right to tell her father and mother that, if'she were to consider the past conduct of Lord Byron as that of a person of sound mind, nothing could induce her to return to him. Until that moment they had been ignorant of the existence of any cause likely to de- stroy her prospect of happiness; and even now she withheld from them that something which was the necessary cause of separation. Th th she shrank from wounding tne ear of her mother, it is not cer- tain that she was now without counsel, The may have sought it from the guardian of her infancy, the friend of her womanhood, the lady against whom Byrom launched the “Sketch,” and whom he calls “the genial confidante.’ However that may be, Lady Byron prepared a written statement, in which sixteen symptoms were mentioned as evidence, either of insanity, or, if that did not exist, of grounds for a divorce, Lady Noel carried she statement to London, and consulted with Sir Samuel Romilly, Dr. Lushington and Dr. Batilie. The two latter visited Lord Byron, without informing him of their purpose, and were convinced that he was of sound mind, ‘The lawyers were satisfied, by the statement which Lady Byron bad prepared, that she was entitled to ase aration, but they thought reconciliation prac- « * * There are signs that he lived, always, Under the fear of disclosure. The intense hatred Which, whenever and wherever it could be sately Muiged, broke forth in sneer oF curse against his “assassing,” will hardly aliow charity to attribute his forbearance, when indulgence might have been dangerous, to @ better motive than fear. So soon as he bad agreed to separate, and while Lady By- yon’s lawyers recommended a divorce, he wrote to Moore asking him not to believe all he heard, and, entreating that no attempt might be made to de- fend him, as that would be a mortal offence; and, because it had been represented that he endeavored to excuse himself by speaking of his wife with dis- yeapect, he cabled upon 3, a8 one of the few persons with whom he had lived in mtimacy, to bear ‘witness of his having declared that where there was ® right or a wrong she had the right. Ih one of his letters written long er the separa- hon, he meneiong her as & “good dangiiter,” and it de remarkabje that, notwithstanding bis abhor of his mother-! 4 ie of his pri- vate Sir and Lady Noe are men- ned, Rot e word of or ridicule them to be found im an; that he gave to the world, There is no allusion to elther in the “Skeich” or in “Don Jaan.” ¥e ad, probably, perceived, wha’ the event proved, that it would not be safe to insult theny openly, He was forward to converse on the su’ ject of his marriage, and eager to learn what the Yvorid said of the cause of separation, Notwith- standing her absoluce silence, his fears imputed to Lady Byron a feeling of fixed hostility whtch would not rest at his grave, but would wake some discov- ery injurious to bis memory, In one of their few intervals of seriousness at Venice, he besought Moore not to suffer unmerited censure to rest upon his Dame after death, * * * From Switzerland be went into Italy, assing through Milan and Verona to Venice, He ad tarnished his fame, ana raised an immovable barrier against the return to domestic life. He now gave himself up, unbridied, to the lusts which had brought that ruin upon him, When he afterwards meditated the gloomy sequestration of the old a, of Tyberius, asthe subject of a tragedy, he thought that he could extract something of “my tragic, at least,” even out of the sojourn at Capriea, by soften- ing the details and exhibiting the despair which must have led to those very viclous pleasures, ‘For none,’ he adds, “‘but @ powerful and gloomy mind overthrown would have bad recourse to such soll- tary horrors.” On his arrival in Venice he began to live in aduitery with the wife of his landlord, a linea draper. He grew ag AP ber within @ year, and moved to the Mocenigo Palace, on the Grand Canal. Not that he was constant for a year. He had but two months under her husband's roof when she found him entertaining her sister-in-law, also mar- ried, upon whom, in his presence, bestowed sixteen such slaps that it made the ear ache only to hear the echo, Afew months later he took two Rogtant girls, one married, the ather single, who ad cried to him for food. After his removal from the linendraper’s house, he received into his pulace acompany of poor women as “the companions of his disengaged hours.” “The most distinguished and at last the reigning favorite of the unworthy harem,” the wife of a small ‘village baker, was the terror of men, women and children, for she had the strength of an Amazon, and used to knock down the other poor women of the palace. Being at last turned away sho threatened her master with the knife, and flung herself into the canal, from which she was rescued, Lord Byron writes of her, “I like this kind of animal, and am sure that I should have preferred Medea to any woman that ever breathed." ndeed, after he had well fed and clothed her, this reigning favorite was the very model woman of his Imagination. With strength to plough and mend roads “she was very devout,’? and, in the midst of her adultery, “would cross herself uf she heard the prayer time strike.” He continued in this way of lite for about fourteen months, from the time of his first arrival at Venice, and Stopped when it had brougnt him nigh death’s door. In the same month in which he announced what he called his reforma- tion, he met the lady with whom he lived in adultery until he sailed for Greege, ‘The fourth canto of “Childe Harold’? was written Venice, begun in June, 1817, and dedicated on the 2d of January, 1818 Certainly he had not been wronged by bis wife since March, 1816. But he had brought himself to imagine that he had suffered mighty wrongs; and che creak actors TR up hands, eyes and heart {o Time the avenger, and to Nemesis, called upon them to awake, and exact the vengeance which should yet be sought andfound, * \* * * At the same time and place he began in his private letters to write of his wife in language over which Mr. Moore has delicately cast a veil. The first in- stances are, “I suppose now I shall never be able to shake off my sables in public imagination, more par- ticularly since my moral * * clove down my fame." This was written while Signora Marianna, the lnendraper’s wife, was seated at his elbow. Fifteen days afterwards, “It ts only the virtudus, like * * * who can afford to give up lus- band and child and live happy ever after." Marianna was again by nis side as he wrote, and told him that his fine reflections’ were only good to clean shoes withal: Now, too, first of ail, he discovered that when he was standing alone upon his hearth, with his household gods shivered around him, deliberate desolation had been piled upon him by his wife and her confederates. Having written himself into a rage, he protested to Moore that he would never forget or forgive—that his desire of revenge had comparatively swaliowed up in him every other feeling, and he was only o spectator upon earth till a tenfold opportunity offered. It might come yet. There were others more to be blamed than * * * *and on them his eyes were fixed incessantly, In the same letter he says that he had finished the first canto of “Don Juan,’! and describes the reigning favorite of his palace as tne kind of animal he liked, tall and energetic as a Pythoness, a woman who if he put @ poniard into her hand, would plunge it where he told her, and into him if be offended. 1t was a great change within little more than two years. Having acknowledged the perfection of his wife’s character, having confessed that he never had or could have any reproach to make her; that there was blame and it belonged wholiy to him, and if he could not re- deem he must bear it—he now accused her as the Cold assassin of his tame, peace, hope and better life and called heaven and earth to bear witness to his undying hate. A great change for better or for worse was sure, He must needs submit or revoit more and more. it may well be beileved that in her pas letter, like his own Francesca, Lady Byron ad conjured him before the cloud passed away to wring out the black drop, 80 that they might be re- united to-morrow since it could not be to-day. His moral life was palsied. Insensible to the life- long desolation which she was suffering, he would fain have persuaded himself that she too regarded his offence as a light matter; that she had dealt treacherously, using 1¢ as @ pretext, and was the au- thor of all the evil that had ensued. H's progress from praise to invective may be thus traced:—After his wife had compelled. him to con- sent to a separation, and while tne separation was incompiete and the lawyers were recommending di- vorce, in the very dregs of the bitter business, he represented her to be perfect ‘and entreated that nothing might be said from which {t could be in- ferred that he imputed the least blame toher. The blame was his, and he must bear it, When the separation was complete, and she had given him fn a parting leter some ea ae & pledge of silence—and while the public voice against him wasjlerce and unanimous, and he was accused of every crime that could be committed, he suffered two poems to be published in which he attribated to his wife every virtue under heaven, above all truth and serene purity, and mourned only that she wanted the one sweet weakness to forgive, He did not pretend to be ignorant of the cause of offence. After he had, unwillingly, made an offer of reconciliation, which was ‘rejected, he wrote, but kept secret auring his lifetime, verses in which he invoked a curse upon ber— A hollow agony which will not heal, aud denounced her as a moral Clytemnestra, who, With au unsuspected sword, and in the coid treason ot her heart, had hewed down his fame, peace and hope, for anger and for gold—had departed from her early truth, aud bad entered into crooked ways, walking in deceit and equivocation, and had learned to lie with silence, and had acquiesced in everything which tended to her pur- pose, Yetstiti he did not pretend to be ignorant of the cause of offence. The There was now less reason to fear disclosure. vague rumor of mysterious crime had died away. ‘The cry so loud and so nniversal in March, 1816, wa: hushed. The “Farewell” and the opening and clos- ing verses of “Wnhilde Harold” had found favor. His popularity was returning. Walter Scott ana Jeffrey, the Edinburg and the Quarterly defended him. He had lost all hope and desire of reconcilia- tion 2ud Was drinking deeply of the cup that im- brutes the soul and cheats the eye with false pre- sentments. Now he began to complain publicly of injustice, perfidy and lies—that his name had been blighted, his life’s life led away. The anger sup- pressed in 1816 was poured forth in satire and exe- cration, Yet sttil he did not pretend to be ignorant of the cause of offence, and while he complained of the hand that gave the wonnd acknowledged that, though unnatural, the retribution was just. * * * In parting with Lord Byron, itis some relief tocast a glimpse of light upon ayery dark picture. Though he continued to breathe bitter words against Lady Noel down to the ume of her death, yet, for three years before bia own death he seems to have ceased (a single instance excepted) to write or speak unkindly of ms wife. The drst four and the eighth stanzas of his last beautiful verses suggest that the unholy bonds which had held him were loosed. In the record of the last ten days of his life the lady from whom ne had parted at Genoa is not named. In the intervals of consciousness his thoughts turned to her whom he had wronged. On the day that he satled from Genoa towards Greece he regretted that he had not first gone to England. On the day before his deavh he muttered, “Why did { not go home before | came here?’ On the same day, when he knew that he was dying, he was most anx- fous to make Fletcher, his old servant, understand nis jast wishes, The servant asked whether he should bring pen and paper to take down his words, “Oh, 20," he sald, “it is now nearly over. Go to my sister—tell her. (io to Lady Byron; you will see ner, and say ——'’ His voice faltered, and he contunued to mutter to himself for nearly twenty minutes with much earnestness, concluding, “Now | have told you all.” “My Lord,” said Fletcher, “I have not understood a word you have been saying.’ “Not understood me /”’ said Byron, with a look of the ut- most diatre: ‘What a pity! Then it 1s too late: all is over.”’. “I hope not,’ answered Fletcher; “but the Lord’s will be done.” “Yes, not min and tried to utter a few words, of whic! articulate except ‘my sister— my child. He was most unhappy in his choice of a bi pher., Mr. Moore was unable to perceive the injury that he inficted upon Lord Byron in giving a fixed habitation to hit changing fancies of anger and re- morse without repentance, or the danger which, in the very whirlwind of his passion, he had always avoided, of enforcing Lady Byron to break ailence. If Su Walter Scott, who was emphatically a man, could have undertaken the task, he would not have called up his friend to tell from the grave, with a joyous voice, the foul sensuality of Venice; he would not have collected darts, which lay scattered abroad and narmless, vo pierce a woman's heart. Mr. Moore had direct authority to suppress anything that might be thought objectionable in the manuscripts which he received for Be of defending the memory of Lord Lag le was without excuse when ‘he rociaimed to Lady Byron, before ail the worid,; lerce and bitter things which her husband had gaia and written in secret—when he publicly placed her name In foul contact with the linenaraper’s wire and the Pythoness, and thrast before her eyes his own privs opinion of ler character and conduct both before and after marriage. Lord Byron was wont to invoke Nemesis to avenge upon others the wrongs which they had suffered from him, He litte dreamed of the fare that overhung, when he assigned Lo Moore the task of vindicating bis fame, 5 WHAT TON MOORE BID AND WHAT HE SAYS. {From “Memoir of Thomas Moore” in American edition of bis works.) It nad been Moore’s design and a part of hi agreement with Murray, in case he survived Lor’ Byron, to write some sort of biography of his Iriena, and the destruction of the “Memoirs’’ did not aiter this purpose. A few Months after that event, 10 November, 1824, he caused hia intention to be com- munteated to Byron and to Mra, Leigh, sng- gesting at the same time that the family must prefer “that a hand apon whose delicacy they coulda rely should undertake the task rather than have his memory at the mercy of scribdiers who dishonor alike the living and the dead.’’ The execution of this work Was hecessarily postponed anti) the “Life of Sheridan” should be completea. Moore then went to Hobhouse, whose countenance and aid, as Lord Byron’s executor, it was of the first importance to secure, informing him of his plan and soliciting his co-operaion, Hobhouse objected to any life of Byron being written, ana particularly to one by the author of the “Life of Sheridan,” having no high opinion of his talents for biography. rd Join Russell also endeavored to dissuade him from the undertaking. Moore professed to see all the objec- tions to the meditated work, but his heavy account with the Longmans made it extremely hard to give a an enterprise that was likely Lo be so profitable. ‘The embarrasements of the case were increased by his having quarrelied with Murray, who was !n pos- gessi0n O1 Alarge quantity of Byron’s papers, and therefore by far the most eligible person ror @ pub- lisher, A good understanding, however, was 60 ob- viously for the mterest of both’ parties that a recone ciliation was easily brought about, Moore making the advances, This was in May, 1826, two years aiter the original diMculty had occurred. Negotia- tions were forthwith commenced between the author and the bookseller, but it was a tong time before @ satisfactory arrangement could made. The “Epicurean” being fintshed in June, 1827, Moore had no Work of co! uence on his hands. From that time he devoted ni if actively to the collection of materials for the biography, visiting for this purpose in the course of the next months Dr. Glennie, with whom Byron was at school; Dr. Drury, of Harrow; Mrs, Shelley, Colonel Wildman, of Newstead Abbey; Mrs. Musters (formerly Miss Chaworth) and others, and taking notes of their conversation. At last, ia February, 1828, Murray came to terms. He proposed to place all of his Byron papers which were proper for publication in Moore’s hands and to give 4,000 guineas for the Life. This liberal offer was at once accepted, with the condition that the large sum owing to the Longmans (amounting 1t 1s said to £3,020) should be paid immediately, and the next month the work was actually begun. The whole task of gathering information, composing the narra- tive and correcting the press occupied about three years (June, 1827—August, 1830), ‘The intended imits of a singie volume were found anh | and two were required, of which the first was issue in January, 1830, and the second in December of the same year. The critics gave the book a kind recep- tion, but the publisher lost money, the price of two quartos, aud also the deep an Perhaps UBTSAs0n- able sentiment of horror with which its bred (oh hero was long regarded proving a great check to its circulation, A reissue in five shilling volumes suc- ceeded better. Not long after the publication of this life Murray projected an edition of Byron’s works, and had some conferences with Moore to induce him to take charge of it, The plan was soon given up, nor has the world any reason to regret its failure. Surely nothing could be more superfuous than what Moore designed to execute—a sort of running commentary on Byron's works, introducing “anecdotes, suocations and all such touch-and-go things as the formality of an essay” on the genius of the poet (Murray’s wish) ‘‘would not admit of." WHAT THE AMERICAN PRESS SAYS, {From the New York Sun, August 21.) * * * ‘This woman—Augusts Mary (Mrs. Leigh), Byron's half sister—was the daughter of John Byron, the father of the ind was the child of an in- trigue between him and the Marchioness of Caer- marthea, The guilty bn eloved to the Continent, and the Marquis having obtained a aivorce Byron and the Marchioness were married. She died with- in @ few years, leaving this daughter, Augusta, the date of whose birth we find nowhere stated; but she must have been several years probably from five to ten, older than her half-brother. She was brought up by her maternal relatives, and there ts no inti- mation that Byron ever saw her until after he en- tered upon man’s estate. In none of the publica- tions of that day do we find any aspersion of her character, although we are told by persons now liv- ing, who moved in London society at the time, that among the charges against Byron—some of them very heinous—was thia one here brought forward. It must unquestionably be admitted that Lady Byron believed that her husband had been guilty of an offence of such a kind as by all laws, human and divine, should put a perpetual bar to all intercourse between them; and that when she made tbis charge definitely to her parents and to Dr. Lushington, sub- sequently one of the judges of the Ecclesiastical Court (he died about a year since), they decided that the offence. yp pie it tohave been committed, had the full force which she claimed. And iurther, it ts not im; ‘ible that the crime alleged was the one now set forth by Mrs. Stowe; and it is probable that Byron was perfectly aware of the nature of his wife’s accusation against him, whatever it may have mn, Byron’s conduct 1s equally consistent with the theory of his guilt or his innocence in this par- ticular. He left his country, and thenceforward made no attempt to resume his marital relations or to assume any control over his infant child, Had he done so his claim would doubtiess have been met by the open assertion of the offence which his wife bad privately charged avainst him. Whe- ther true or false, such an assertion would have been utter ruin; while he might rest assured that his wite, for her own sake, Would never during her life bring the accusation before the public, unless somehow forced to do so in self-defence. We cannot comprehend how Mrs. Stowe, having decided to put forth this statement. should nave failed to adduce the least proof in support of it, Some points are, if true, susceptible of proof. Thus, if there was a child, as Mrs. Stowe affirms, born of this intercourse, and this child Was watched over by Lady Byron with a “mother’s tenderness,” there must be testimony to the fact; and there can be no reason for withholding this testimony, which goes not lie equally against making the unsupported statement. =i. The incidental evidence from severa) of Byron's poens, which Mrs. Stowe parades at quite unneces- sary length, 18 utterly valueless. Donna Inez and Aurora Raby, in “Don Juan,” nave as jittle likeness w each other or to Lady Byron as any three charac- ters in the whole compass of fiction, The arguments of Lucifer and Adab in ‘Cain’ are equaliy far from having any possibile bearing. Is it not absurd to urge that because the Arch Fiend argued tn favor of in- cest, we must, therefore, accept it as Byron’s own argument? As weli migit we accuse Milton of im- ety because he makes Satan exclaim, “Evil, be hou my good.” Neither will the mystery which enshrouds the vatied story of Manfred and Astarte bear the interpretation put upon it by Mrs, Stowe. It would be easy to point out a score of similar instances in Byron’s poems, but they are all equaily inconclusive. for instance, a few days after his departure from Hngland Byron wrote the four stan- zas commencing ‘The castled crag of Drachelfels,” afterwards incorporated into the third canto of “Childe Harold.” A note written, we think, by Moore, states:—‘‘These verses were written on the banks of the Rhine, in May. It is needless to aay that they were addressed to his sister.” In these verses themselves there ia nothing which a brother might not have written to the purest sister. But in “Childe Harold” they are preeiaced oy this strange stanza:— And there was one soft breant, as hath bean said, Which unto his was bound by stronger ties ‘Than the Church links withal; and, thon sh That love was pure and (ar above disguise , Had stood the teat of mortal enmities Sulll nndivided, and cemented more By peril, dreaded most in female eves ; Bot this was firm, and from a forvign shore Weil to that heart might his these absent greetings pv Onilde Haveli, 9%. ~ How & man could speak of his to lim by stronger ties than the Church links, and should notice that they were unwed, is incompre- hensibie, Our own belief is that the note of Moore ia an error, and that the poem was never addressed to his sister, put to some other object of his attach- ment, , It is the more probable that this is the trutn of the matter, trom a further remark in the note: “The origmal penciling is before as." How cond this original penetiling, if addressed to Augusta Leigh, have come ito tie hands of Moore? Bur that a very peculiar intimacy grew up between Byron and his sister near the close of his life in Lon- don is certain, As has been said, there 1s no reason to suppose that they ever knew each other until this riod, In Bryon’s first wili, dated about 1811, he eft ail his estates, with the exception of some legacies, to his heir-at-law, @ second cousin. But in July, 1815, seven months after his marriage, and when here was every reason to expect the birth of a child by his wife, he made a new wiil, by which he left all nis estates, ex- cept the parts settied by marriage settiement upon his wife, to his sister and her children, The reason for this is inexplicable. No part of these estates came tohim through her, or through their common father. Indeed, they were inherited from his grand uncle, In his very last letter, written in England, he mentions that he had just parted with his sister and should not see her foralong time, perhaps never. Moreover, in the two or three poems inscribed to Augusta he addresses her in words of impassioned fondnéss; but there is no word even hinting at any unlawful relation between them. Indeed, the most beautiful and best known of them all is of sucha nature that it contams strong intrinsic evidence against Mrs, Stowe’s revolting charge. It is as {0l- lows:— ‘Though tho day of my dentiny 's over, And the star of my fate hath declined, ‘Thy soft heart refused to discover the faulte which 40 many cou ; it y ‘Though thy soul with my grit It ahrunk not to share ft wi And the love which my 8] It never hath found bui Then when nature around m The last smile which an 1 do not believe L As the wit 1) their pillows excite an emotion, It in that they bear me thes. the rock of my last hope ts shivered ita fragments are sunk in th I feel that my eon! ie delivered To pain—it shall not be Its slave. ‘There fe many @ pang fo purtue mar crush, but they 0 contemm — me~ Th torture, but shail not ‘Tie of thee thal } think, not of istor as one linked | ‘Though human, ee ae not em me ‘Thongh loved, thou forborest py me; Though thon never coulis! ahakeg Though trueted, thou did not diachtm me; Though parved, it was not to ay: Though watchful, "\ was not to defame me, Nor mute, that the world might belie. Yet I blame not the world, nor despine ity Nor the war of the many with one— Af my soul was not tated bo prize it, °T was folly not sooner to shun} Aud if dearly that error hath cost me, And more than 1 ouee could foresee, Ihave found, that wuatever it lost me, Jt could uot deprive me of thee, From the wreck of the past which hath perisked Thus much I at least may recall, Mbath taught me that what I most cherished Deserved to be dearest of all, Jn the desert Jn the wild wast Abd @ bird in the solitu nging, Wiiich apeake to my spirit of thee, Until Mrs, Stowe snail present some positive proof, ‘we think the following explanation must be ac- cepted. The disputes between Byron and his wife reached @ great height soon after their mi a She had every reason to believe him an unfaithful husband and was iy suspicious of every wo- man. His sister stood during all those bit- ter quarrels with his wife and the world, and Lady Byron took up an almost insane jealousy against her, which musth; aggravatea by his strange will. To jealous woman, trifes lignt as air become cont on strong as eee of holy writ. And from a thousand things, which were no trifes, Lady Byron’a morbid imagination framed the horrid glory, @ story for which, as appears, no real eviden was ever prod forit must be noted that Dr. root ofthe crite alleged by Lady by70u, but merely me y ‘Ton, but m¢ that if the allegation were true, nen thé conclusion to which she came was unavoidable, It ts also a curious fact that this story was not made public until after the death of Dr, Lushington and of Sir Jonn Cam Hobhouse (Lerd Broughton) had removed the last witnesses who could be expected to speak with any positive Sanne es the subject. At all events, now that jtowe has, most un- wisely, He Seg 40 far, she cannot stop. If she has evi- dence, she must produce it, If she fails to do th the conclusion is inevitable that none exists, an that she has unjustifiabiy calammated the dead. (From the New York Tribune, August 20.) bd * The extraordinary revelation which Mrs, Stowe has made of the cause of Lord Byron’s sepa- ration from his wife is received by most people with an incredulity which we cannot share, yet at which we cannot wonder, There have been from the first vague rumors of an awful guilty secret, and Mrs, Stowe, taking her information trom Lady Byron’s own Itps, at last assures ua that it was no less than an adulterous intrigue between the poet and ‘a blood relation so near in consanguinity that dis- covery must have been utter ruin and expulsion from civilized society.” Woo this near relation was we are not distinctly told; but allusions in other parts of tne articlo point unmistakably to his lordship’s halt sister, Augusta Byron, the wife of Colonel Leigh. Mrs, Stowe has commit- ted the grave error of putting forth her story with- out @ tittle of proof, without the support of dates or circumstances, without even @ clear statement of hercharges. We are left to find the corroboration a8 pest wecan, We doubt if if would be possible to present @ casein a more bungling and inefficient manner than hers, and she has no reason to wonder if many people refuse to believe her. Awful as the charge is, however, itis not incredi- ble, nor 18 it now made for the first time. It has long been understood that the secret reason of the separation was Known to several persons, and ru- mor {n certain circles of London has whispered this very crime. Ever since i gloags interest in the Byron controversy was revived by the publication of the Countess Guiccioll’s book both sides have taken up @ large share of -he English magazines, Some months ago there appeared in Temple Bar (June, 1869) an article on “Lord Byron's Married Life,” which was either inspired from the same source a8 Mrs, Stowe’s, or used by our country- women in the preparation of her paper for the Atlantic. Both give the natory or the marriage and early wedded life alike, as well as the pubic inci- dents of the separation, the ements of the writer in Temple Bar being jusufied by continual marginal references to Moore's *‘Life.”” Lady Byron left her husband's house for her father’s at her husband’s own command. Her resolution to demand @ permanent separation was taken while she was under her father's protection, She sus- spected Lord Byron’s sanity, and after being reassured on that pojnt she explained to Dr. Lushington, who acted as her counsel, certain circumstances which Jed him to declare that though he had previously been im favor of a recon- cillation he now judged it to be impossible, “and if any such idea should be entertained he could not, either professionally or otherwise, take any part to- wards effecting it." What could have induced an advocate in the ecclesiastical courta to give an opinion so apparently at variance with all ecclesias- tical usages’ We leave the writer in Zemple Bar to repiy:—"There ig but one answer. Dr. Lushington must have assumed the existence of a fact irom which inevitably followed the same consequence that Lord Thurlow pointed out to the House of Lords when he prevailed with them to, give— what had never been allowed before—the right of marrying again to @ woman seek- fug divorce for the cause of her husband's adultery. AS a general rule the right was given to a man whose wife had com- mitted adultery, because he could not take her again, and was denied to @ woman whose hus- band had been guilty of the same offence, because they might be reconciled. In the particular instance before the House of Lords, the husband had been guilty with his wife’s sister. The wife could not without guilt return to him, and, therefore, she was ermitted to marry again. When Dr. Lushington jeclares reconciliation to be im bie, and that if attempted he could take no part in the attempt, pro- fessionally or otherwise, he must be understood to mean that ‘duty both to God and man’ forbade Lady Byron to return to her husband.” ‘This is a guarded passage, but its meaning 18 clear enough now that Mrs. Stowe has given us the clue. Lady Byron could not return to her husband for the same reason that a wife could not return to a husband who had com- miited adultery with her sister; udultery with a wilfe’a siaver, by English law, is moest. So long as Byron was afraid of provoking his wife vo make a ful disclosure, he was ready enough in a romantic sort of Way to shoulder a load of indetinite diane, ani to paint his Daroner and victim as a sut- Jeriug angel; To others! suare let femaie errors fall, For sie had not ev'u one—the worst of all. ss eusy lor him 10 deny ali knowledge of the ap offence for which he was diseardea, and the world then Would suspect nothing more than we SJashionavie jniidetities of which he never made a secret, “But the true always present to his which we have quoted, mind, and if it were of the clasa to which Dr. Lush- ington's epinion points, his consciousness would prompt the answer that he gave. * * * Jt seems impossible to avold the conclusion that the cause nad never been explained to him—that he knew the cause—and did not dare to ask for explanation," Ab the time of its appearance this remarkabie article seems to Nave attracted little attention, We cite it now for the purpose of showing that if Mrs. Stowe has veen deceived by the fictions of Lady Byron’s diseased imagination she is not alone in her errors and is not the dlrat to disseminate them, For ourselves we find nothing im the narrative incon- sistent with positively ascertained facts (except some trifling mistakes Which do not affect the main question), and nothing, We are sorry vo say, incon- sistent with What 1s known of #vroti's character, (From: the ew York Times, August 19.) We cannot but deplore ihe publication of a uarra- five such as that which Mrs, @ hag thought proper to lay beiore the worid. 1t seta no question at rest, and consequenuy it will not even satisfy the morbid curiosity Of thdse persons who are more in- terested in the scandals of Lord Byron's life than tn nia works. Mrs. Stowe hasbeen made the means of circulating @ revolting aspersion on Lord Byro! aister—sister Mrs. Stowe calls her—of whom is koown is that she was faithful to him in the darkest hours of his life and followed him with her sympathy in his exile. [t 18 no justification of the course which Mrs. Stowe has unfortunately been advised to adopt that Lady Byron originated the calumny on ab imnocent jady. Lady Byron pursned the poet with a systematic malignity which Was sumetimes scarcely compatible witn the theory of her sanity. There was nv oflence of which she did not accuse him. i¢ was only after he and lis haif sister had both been buried for years that she ventured to link their names together in infamy. ‘Then it Was done ina conversation with a comparative stranger, and po proofs whatever were given in sapport of the odious charge, Mra, Stowe was not called upon to revive this miserable story of domestic unhappiness, She can prodace no evideace in substantiation of the narrative, All the facts and all the probabilities contradictit. Respect for the mem- ory of Lady Byron would certainly have suggested the propriety of allowing a mystery which can never be cleared Up to sink into oblivion, She has now atepped forward with unsupported allegations of a character so abomtnable as to compel us to recelve them with incredulity, and {t 18 but lttle exteuaa- tion of her fault that she anffered herseif to be im- posed upon by & woman of implacable disposition and relentiess temper, It ia quite evident that Mrs. Stowe approached her task in the sptrit of a novelist. Her account of Lord Byron’s affection for Miss Chaworth is of the gushing and sentimental order which certain writers of fiction habitually affect. Her moralizing, her frequent digressions on the aubject of angels, her reflections, Which are meant to be pious and nar- rowly eacape being profane; her ecstatic account of Lady Byron's struggles with “fends of darkness” for the redemption of her “husband's soul” may also be tolerated en the ground that they are part of the common stock in trade of an imaginative writer. When Mrs. stowe comes to deal with facts we get ‘upon ground where we at once discover her singular incautiousness in Kena f with a subject of extreme delicacy. Every detail of her story 1s contradicted by the circumstance attending ¢he separation of Lord and Lady Byron. She is wrong in her quotations, wrong in her dates, wi im the account which sne ives of the mode in wi Byron quitted her jagband’s roof, She b speans of Lady Byron as hav- ing lived two years her busband. Tne truthis eee were married on the 3djof January, 1815, and on the 16th of the following January they w ere sepa- rated, She states that Lerd Byron wrote a note to his wife ordering her to leave him. ‘He could not Myepa gays Mre, Stowe, ‘‘have her about him; and when her child was only five weeks old be carried this threat of expulsion into effect.’ This is quite contrary to the actual facts. The child was born on the loth of December. Lady Byron went to her father’s houge, at Kirkby Mallory, in the en- sulog month, for the benefit of her health. She rote @ letter from thence to her husband which has been deemed @ strong presumptive proof twat Lord ByroD was gulity of no gros# efence 8p) a aie though cont was, I thought, almost too to show.” describes tt as “fall of playfainess and affection.?’ Captain Medwin states that it began “Dear Duck.’? A lew days afterward Lord Byron received another letter from his wife’s mother, tnviting him to Kirkby Mallory. ‘The very next letter he received was one from her father, informing num that Lady Byron had Jeit him forever. Let it be remembered that Lady Byron parted from her husband on good terms, that she wrote to hit in a very agectionaie manner, and that Without seeing him again she suddenly cast him off. These are 1acts which have never been disputed, Now listen to the romance waich Lady Byron ap- pears to have foisted on Mra, stowe;— On the day of her departure she passed py the door of his room and stopped to caress his favorito spaniel, which was lying there; and ab afessed toa friend the weakuess of feeling a willingness even to. be something as hum! poor Itle creature, mint ahe oniy be alldwed to 1 Watch over him. She went into his toom, where h partner of his sius were aluiing toyetiisr, aa anid, © Eyr0% ome o say goodby, aering al Rie’ axe tat her band, Lord Byron put hia bands Sehtnd bim, retreatol to the maa: jece, and, looking around on the two that atvod there fs apeadtig amie aul “tien aba we tree meet in?" Lady Byron anawered, “In heaven, Itrust;” and these were ber last words \o ira’ on earth.” We have no hesitation in asserting that whenever and wherever this story was invented it 1s entirely Without foundation, and we beileve that it now makes its aj ce for the first time. if, however, it has been published before, it must be one of those tales which Lord Macaulay refers to a3 “loathsome slandery’”’ on Lord Byrou’s character, and Macau- lay’s comment upon them 1s singularly appropriace to this particular specimen:—‘‘It ig not every day that the savage envy of aspiring dunces ts gratified by the agonies of such a spi and the degradation of such @ name.” But the baseness of the present slander upon the memory of the great poet cannot be conveyed except in the words which we must assume were put into Mrs. Stowe’s mouth. We decline 0 do more wan condense the statements for which she bas made her- self responsible: — From the height at which he might have been happy, as the husband of a noble woman, he fell into the depths of a secret adulterous intrigue with a blood relation, so near in censan- guinity that discovery must have been utter ruin and expul- sion from civilized society. * * * The peraon whose rela- tions with Byron bad been so disastrous, also, in the latter pears of her life, felt Lady Byron's loving ‘and ennobling in- foences, and in'her last sicksiess and delug hours looked 10 her for’ consolation and help, There was an unfortunate child of sin, born with the curse upon her, over, whose way- ward nature Lady Byron watched wit y She was the one who could bave patience w! e patience of every ono else fai thot r task was a ditfeult one, from the strange, abnormal propensities to evil in the object of her cares, yet Lady Byron never faltered and never gave over until death took the responsibility from her banas. ‘Mrs. Stowe declares that Lady Byron told her this story. If Mrs. Stowe’s memory has not decetved her tue only explanation of it can be that Lady By- ron’s Paiva and anger had overturned her reason. Lord byron néver saw bis sister after he lett En, jut we cannot discuss the monstrous ci umny piece by piece. We submit that before we can be expected to receive such astatement it must be supporied by proof. Why is it that Lady Byron never brought this charge against her husband un- til an American lady happened to visit her? Mrs. Stowe says it was because she was careful for Lord Byron's reputation, In reality she sought by every means, and all through her life, to injure it. Once she declared that he was out of his mind, and tried to get him shut up in @ mad- house. She obstimately refused to explain to him why she had left him. She sent her mother to a lawyer (Dr, Lushington) with a statement of her grievances, and he advised her to return to her hus- oand. Afterwards she told him something under the seal of secrecy which led him him to reverse his opinion. Lord Byron, a8 is well Known, wrote a sketch of his life, which Moore destroyed, eed incurring @ heavy responsibility; but Lord Russell bears this testimony—that there was nothing in the journal of particular importance and “no iateresting details of his life.” To the last moment of his ex- istence he solemaly declared that he was ignorant of the cause of Lady Kyron’s con- duct, He repeatediy challenged investigation and inquiry, and it was only years after his death that Lady Byron ventured to heap fresh insults upon his memory. We have no incli- nation to undertake tue vindication of Lord Byron’s geueral moral character. Probably Mrs. Svowe's es- timate of that would not materially differ trom our own. But wemay believe him to have been guilty of many fauits without crediting the disgusting story now made public, And we are quite sure that 80 unprofitable a topic a8 his misdeeds ought now to be removed from the fleld of public discussion, itis tobe regretted that Mrs. Stowe has again invited attention to it. We must repeat that we are sorry for the part she has taken in the affair. it has ren- dered no eervice to literature, it reflects no credit on Lady Byron, and it will not enhance the debt which ‘the present generation owes W Mrs. Siowe’s useiul aud amusing pen. oe. the Albany (N. Y.) Journ: irs. Stowe gives no corroborative proois, but hints at their possession. It 18 a grave question whether this mine of prurient scandal should have been re- opened, {From the Troy (N. Y.) Whig, August 20.) *-* © It, does not look reasonable that a gaiity Waison which could not be concealed from the phan, from nurses and attendants, snould never 80 wWUCh as hinted to the public. There must be some other, and more probable, and less horrible explanation of the frailly of Byron’s sister. The prurient curiosity of hundreds of literary Bohemi- ans, who could ve earned @ dinner or perhaps a guinea by the sale of such a story, would have dis- covered aad given it to the public long ago. {From the Worcester (Mass.) Spy, Au 20., From the nature of the case, no proof of this s! can now be produced, and there are many circum- stances that make it seem highly improbable. {From the Philadelphia Post, August 20.) ‘The effect of the scaudat will be to convince those who hitherto have thought Lady Byron an imjured woman to believe her crazy, and her lusband, whatever his faults, a wronged and slandered man. [From the Philadelphia Press, August 20.) No pecuniary temptation should have induced Mrs. Stowe to publish a. grave accusation against one of her own sex—even if she believed it true. Resting agit does upon the mere assertion of Lady Byron, few will credit it. f {From the Cincinnati Enquirer, August 19.) What is new in the revoltmg publication concern- ing Lord Byron, for which the world 1s indebted to Mrs. Beecher Stowe, bears intrinsic evidence of un- truth, Whether the falsehood originated with that lady or with the unfortunate woman from whom she claims to have received it is a question winch were unable to solve. stripping the statement of its verbiage, it amounts togthis:—That Byron was guilty of “incest with his sister; that his wife knew it, yet continued to live with him jor two years. {From the Cincinnati Gazette, Auguat 19.) Is it nor better that the trath should be told to vin- dicate the memory of a good woman than that it skowid be suppressed to save from reproach the memory of this compound of hypocrisy, lechery and lunacy ? {From the Rochester (N. Y.) Chronicle, August 19,} ‘The brute, in fact, overwhelmed tue poet, aud he (Byron) lived and died accursed in hits own heart, partly because of the very gifts which God had showered upon him. Its, altogether, a very, very sorry chapter. {From the Rochester (N. Y.) Union, August 19.] The chief revelation concerning Lord Byron, whose lecnery was suMciently established before Mrs. Stowe began to revel in it, is that he lived in incestuous intercourse with hig sister before his mar- riage and afterwards under nis own roof. Whether this be true or not of Byron, it is very certain that Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe will not add to the evi- dence of her own purity of mind and purpose by telling it to the world after haying Obtained it as she did and after the death of all the parties involved, . Petey the Hartford Times, Angust 19.) Mrs. Stowe reveals the horrible story because of the recent publication of the Countess Guiccioll’s impudent book. (From the Pittsburg Commercial, August 19.) Mrs. Stowe is said to have in her possession further facts substantiating her extraordinary na rative, and if so, having started so improbable a story, it is her daty to give them to the public. Mrs, Leigh has always borne an excellent reputation, and up to this time not eveu a shadow las been cast upon it. (From the St. Louis (Mo.) Republican, Augast 18.) * * * Augusta died a number of years since, and up to this tame no breath of slander from any quarter has ever stained her reputation. The world is now asked 10 believe that this lady formed and continued through several years at least an inces- tuous connection with her brother, and that a child was born of the unnatural alliance. But this ts not all. We are asked to belteve that Lady Byron knew of the connection immediately after her mart and that, from a sense of duty to her husband ani for the sake of “the angel that was in him,” she tacitly sanctioned tt by permitting the partner of his crime to remain under her roof we she herself continued to hold the position of a wii lore than this even, We are fold that she did not leave Lord Byron of her own free will, but was driven away by him; that the offspring of the intrigue was protected dcared for by her until tte death, and that the me kind offices were afterward extended to the mother, The world shrinks back involuntarily from the contemplation of the horrible theme. tel- witl egal August 19.) BH tad the New Haven Palladium, August 20.) e are glad. to see that the views we expressed yesterday upon the revolting and incredipie narra- tive which Mra. Stowe has unhappily thought fit to ive to the public are shared by our contemporaries, e deeply regret that the narrative has appeared in an American publication, Gee the Louisville Courier-Journal, August 18.) rs, Stowe, as if aware that her extraordini story in regard to incest needs all sorts of boisterin looks through the poetical works of Byron, and, withous the least authority, assumes that every passage that can be tortured into seeming adapta- tion to her purpose was intended by the poet to ap- Ny to himself. This is preposterous; 11 is contempt ie. {From the Chicago Times, August 18.) No consideration due to the living or dead required such an attempt to make infamous the name of a man whose morality was on a Jevel with the times in which he lived, {From the Buffalo Express, August 18.) i ‘The revelation made by Mrs, Stowe in her Allantic article of the mysterious and much-speculated-upon cause which drove Lady Byron from her husband ts one 80 terrible that it wii! be productive of an im- menee rensation tn the world. THE STEAMSSIP QUAKER CITY. The Cruise ef the Veesel After She Left This Port—The Bohemian Cauard About Her “Cuban Destinies’? Exploded—How the English Remain Neutral in the Haytien Re- bellion and Supply the Rebels with Food and Amuaunition, The following statement of Felix Maltin, the quar- termaster of the #teamskip Quaker City, which left ‘this port in June jast, will not ve withouta certain amount of interest, The canard about tne vesael’s having set out to ald the Cubans is exploded py the revelations of the ex-oMcer of the ship; but they give @ pretty good insight into the way the English are observing neutrality between the rebel and whe government parties in Hayt!, Mullin arrived tn this city yesterday on the Arizona from Aspinwall. ‘The following is the statement:— The Quaker City, after having been detained at this port for a long time, on suspicion of being des- tined for the Cubans, left on the 16th of June last. We were eighty odd, alltold. The ship had a cargo of provisions and @ case of breeching bolts for guns, which were smuggled away in the vessel. The crew were shipped for Jamaica and back, the time of ,the whole voyage being fixed in the “articles” as three months at the utmost. After we had been gone forty-eight hours the ship was put back to Sandy Hook, the captain stating that the cause of the re turn was that he had forgotten the register and the ship’s papers. It was about noon when we pat about, and we arrived off Sandy Hook about four o’ciock, We there met a tug, which had come down with one of the officers of the Quaker City, who had been left behind, and another tug which brought the ship’s papers. We then pro ceeded on our way. After being seven days out from New York we laid of the island of Inagua for two or three hours, where we landed the owner of the sup, Mr. Breckenridge. What he went on the isiand for 1 cannot state. He rem on shore avout two hours; when he re- turned to tne ship. We then sailed for Jamaica, which we reached in about twenty-iour hours. On arriving there we discharged our cargo, passed it through the Custom House, and the following day We reshipped it and went to Port Royal, where we lay om the fort, avout a mile away. During the nighttime, about mine o’clogk, small boats came from the shore with kegs powder, twenty-live pounds ina Keg, and by midnight we had stowed away 500 kegs. The powder was delivered to the smail boats directly from the fort which supplied it. We left Port Royal the same night apd arrived of St. Mari @ port im the rebel quarter of St. Do- mingo, The rebel Custom House oilicer called on board in fact, a3 though they were old es. Alter this individual went ashore an came alongside of us and we unload powder and cargo of provisions, which they took ashore. Mr. Breckenridge got off @t thie port our and did not return to the ship agam. He does a large business in St, Marka, A few days after unloading we set out again and reached lnagua in twenty-four hours, were we were met by two schooners—one of them from Boston and the other from New York, They had Lai uns aboard—four 100 pound Parrotts, six eignty-fours rifled bore and ten eighty-lours. smooiw bore—100 rounds of ammunition for each gun and a quantity of small arms, such a8 cutlasses aud pistols, and also three cases of clothing. Ail these things we schooners transferred to the Quaker City. We were lying 1m the barbor at the tume and it was broad daylight. Alter getting tne guns, &c., on board we put for St. Marks, where we met che Florida, a ves sel belonging to the Haytien rebels, and tue Clara, Helena, a propeller, Teo gous were transferred to the Florida, which is a stdewleel steamer; two to the Clara Helena, six being kept aboard the Quaker vity. Four of these guus were fixed im position aft aud two forward, While ail this was going on the English flag was fying irom our 4 ns gat. Some of us directed the captain’s attention to the fact, when he ordered the flag to be hauied down, bus m: associate, Quartermaster Jones, refused, Tole lowing day the rebel (Haytien) flag was hoisted, and some forty-seven of us were taken ashore to be settied with, We got what money was coming to us from the snip, Our agreement ‘was, however, that the owner was to pay our way back to New York and subside us, and that we were to receive the extra month's pay at Jamaica. The Captain came along with us to Cologne (Aspinwail). Our pi e was paid ail the way, but we were not subsided and had to depend upon the charity of those places we passed through to keep us alive. At Cologne the captain left us to suit for ourselves and fied to Panama. Thanks to the generosity of Captain Rathburn, port captain of jhe Pacific Com- pany, we got our vroae New York for twenty dollars apiece. We each thirteen doliars to pay our e and had to raise the extra seven dollars each by selling our clothes. We applied to the Eng- lish and American Consuls for relief, but they re- fused to have anything to do with us. Although having sailed under British colors we were all Americans. Wearrived here this morning (Satur- day) on board the Arizona. Twenty of the crew of the Quaker City remained with the ship, having been induced to do so by the offer of large w: Each of us who left was offered nimety doilars @ month if we would stay, We learned that the crew were to be drilled about a week, When 400 negroes were to be taken on board asa full complement, and then she was to join the Florida and the Clara Hetena and proceed to retake Guynire, that bad veeu taken by President Sainave’s party. NAVAL INTELLIGENCE. Naval Affairs in the South Pacific.» PaNaMa, August 13, 1869, ‘The naval news of greatest interest at present centres upon the United States sloop-of-war James- town, now lying at this port and about to sail for the Feejee Islands and the Various groups in the South Pacific. Her mission is to make inquiries in regard to the eating of certain American missionaries and sea captains, who, being fat, sleek and healthy, and of mild dispositions, became favorites with the can- nibals, o much so that said ee ee them up into mince meat or otherwise disp’ of them in dainty steax or tender sirloin. To ascertain these tacts 1s the delicate trust condded to Captain Trux- tun, commanding the Jamestown, and in case they should be ascertained to be true then the captain commanding has an able crew of Fenian boys in blue throug whose muscular activity the sav hordes will be taught to respect the American eag! if not the American missionary. The Jamestown sailé on the 2ist instant and does not intend to re- turn forten ortwelve months. Her crew numbers 155 men, having been reinforced to-day by 101 tars from Mare Isiand, California. She amply sup- plied with munitions of war and provisions, and through the agency of Paymaster Healy, naval store agent at this place, nothing has been left to make the trip pleasant and agreeable. The ofMcers end crew are in splendid apirita and go to visit the Feejee cannibals with their sleeves rolled up. The follow- ing 18 a list of the officers:— - Wm. T. Truxtun, captain; C, L."Huntington, execu- tive oMcer; Asa Walker, navigator; J. W. Miller, J. M. Miller, A. Dunlap, P. Cunningham, watch oM- cers; A. Miln, boatswain; 8. Whitehouse, carpenter; G. Macy, sailmaker; P, McDonald, gunner. Charles A. Stone, C. T. Forse, R. Watuwright, J. R, Selfridge, midshipmen of the Jamestown, are ordered to Washington for examination and promotion. They departed to-day for New York per steamship Arizona. Lieutenants Blake and Talcott, of the Mahago, and Lieutenant Ragsds of the Saginaw, are granted leave of absence, ing served their cruise of three years. Mr. Wilson, boatswain, and Mr. Sanscom, car- penter of the Pensacola, are ordered home ana ted leave of absence. All departed to-day for e East. A number of the volunteer officers of the Asiatic squadron have reached here, en route for New York per steamer of to-day. Tne only volunteers in said squadron are in the engineer corps, the last of whom are expected by the next Pacific Mail steamer from San Francisco. The following are those arrived:—0. H. Hutton, acting second it engineer of the discharge; S He Magee, ncting. second eaalstant eur 1801 y » acting seco: t en- gineer, and Pennington, acting Third assistant engineer, of the United States steamer Maumee, oa 44 Mr. ol Radclift, acting third assistant engineer United Statea steamer Piscataqua, ditto; Mr. Allen, acting third assistant engineer of the United States steamer Monocacy, ditto. The Mohegan is expected to relieve the James- town, The Yantic is at Aspinwall, and at jatest dates the Nyack and Onward were at Callao. porta from our various naval squadrons in the South Pacific and Southern Atlantic squadrons rej port ail well. MARINE TRANSFERS. The following is @ complete list of marine trans. fers from the i4th August to present date:— i Clase. | a Aug. 1.|Bloop...- ‘Aug. 16-[ Prop. Names Daw. | Fomnage.| Share. Price. i. | Blevator, | Manh: ‘|Schooner|T. L. Mille {}Sioop....|Jarome Venice .. 8. |Sloop. ...| Hanna Ann .... :|Elovator. John Ix Bower. . er :|Sehooner| Aga, . (Sehooner| W. H. MONUMENT AT ANNAPOLIS, MD.—A is foot for the erection of a mma jument Psy Ang Md., in commemoration of the officers and of the Loy! id fell auring the late war. pire it and very oye The scuiptor ia F. mn com) it f Rom of Tiallan marble, aad deliver it im fois country for $20,000, gold. AN association has been foi of which Admiral Porter isthe president. He how holds $14,000, which has been contributed to the funds entirely by the oMcers and sailors of the nay and oMcers and men of the marine cor ps.—P phia Presa, august 17,