The Sun.
London, England, 1867-12-09 00:00:00

Mr. WRITE. 228. Piccadilly.

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We are in the habit of talking much about days
of persecution, and admiring the sturdy and stub-
born hardihood with which our ancestors faced the
rack, the thumbscrew, and the gibbet, when there
was a question of playing false to the old religion
in which they were brought up. In those days
there was no opportunity, nor was there any de-
sire, of paring down dogma, varnishing truth,
gilding unsavoury principles, or sweetening with
the leaven of this world the bitterness of the reli-
gion of the Crucified. it was a case of ant ant,
either one thing or the other then—either Protes-
tant and Elizabethan, or Papist and Bloody Queen
Mary. Light and darkness are not more distinct
than was the heroic little band of persecuted Ca-
tholics, and the intolerant and savage bigotry
which would convert them with redhot irons.
Still there was something in common between
the persecutors and the persecuted ; something,
which, independent it would appear of creed, spe-
cially seems to belong to the English race—a
thoroughness and an energy of purpose which,
more by strong nerve and animal force of character
than by rules of logic, carries its own to the ex-
tremest bounds of practical conclusions. There
are no people like the English for drawing
startling inferences in the region of action out of
the logic of facts. In place of long and elaborate
results elicited from certain data, by the laborious
pressure of mental activity, we have the results
worked out almost simultaneously, Lin theory and
in PractiOe,' as the flash of the musket is instan-
taneous with the departure of the projectile.
Whilst the German lives in a land of metaphysical
clouds and cobwebs, the Englishman is digging
or planting, or fighting, or engrossed in_speculal
tions., not theoretical, but emiriendy practiCal; and
only considers he has &tie a day's work if he has
achieved some results more tangible than the idle
musings of a mere philosopher. So far is this the
character of the race that the very science of
philosophy is dragged down to the dirt by its most
eminent writers. What is more significant than
the works of Mill, and Mansel, and Hamilton, and
the rest of the thinkers on speculative points ? The
very subject most pregnant with consequences,
and from which the whole body of philosophy
hangs, is either repudiated or meagrely handled, or
missed altogether by these men. What treatises
on metaphysics proper can be pointed out written
by an Englishman ? Where can be found a skeleton
notion, or a ghost of a sketch of ontology, in its
proper acceptation?. No; our philosophers are
mere farmers. They can grub in the earth, and
dissect the carcass of tangible reality; but they
are like men looking up to heaven with nothing
before their eyes when they are called upon to
enter into the world of real entia, and abandon
this mechanical, tangible, and gross earth under
their feet. But, at all events, they have more

time to keep their energies for psychological and
experimental study, and doubtless they have at-
tained much eminence in what the Germans, with
greater aptness than courtesy, designate as " dirt
philosophy."

Thorough and practical were the English per-
secutors of our ancestors--thorough and practical
were those who were under the scourge, and
thorough and practical are the two great marks of
the race ; characteristics which have been the
mainsprings of our greatest works—in war, in
commerce, in private speculation, in greatness
and nobleness of private and public beneficence
—in fact they are the two great motors of our
national life. It is seen in the Church of England,
in the various eccentric and concentric actions
within her, and in the numberless contradictory
forces which bubble up and explode with all the
might of their little energy on the stream of her
muddy creed as it careers away towards infidelity.
It is seen in the marvellous organization of dis-
sent, in the sums paid to push a popular form
of worship, andin the energy with which the argu-
ment of pounds, shillings, and pence is made use
of to prove the truth of the popular theory. It
is even to be traced in the dogged way in which
each ignorant clown or half-enlightened Boor will
cling to his religion, which is simply and alone
rational to him, because he has not head to under-
stand it ; and, in fact, is held by him with all the
greater tenacity in proportion to the obtuseness of
his faculties of reason. Give him a telling party
cry, and a good pair of lungs, and he will, in his
very narrow groove, be as thorough and as practi-
cal as the most sublime and subtle of dirt philo-
sophers.

We imagined, at one time, that this thorough-
ness and practical bent was so essential to the
national character, that an Englishman could not
be found without it. We imagined that it gave
nerve, and vigour, and colour to each member of
the race, in various proportions, still sufficiently
marked to be perfectly intelligible. And we still
are of opinion that very few Englishmen, if any,
arc born without it, and that it requires an in-
fluence very strong indeed, and singularly poison-
ous, to enervate and soften the hard, wirey fibre
of the national character into the poor, flabby, and
sickly attempt at vigorous life, such as is from
time to time to be found flickering amongst us.
There is no doubt that the real, genuine Pro-
testant Church of England, which has a horror

of the supernatural, and shrinks from the priest-
hood, and holds the Bible in one hand and re-
spectable self-indulgence in the other, in its own
way is practical and thorough. So on the other
hand is the Catholic Church, as it stands in this
country, thorough in its belief and practical in
its application. Indeed, from the very circum-
stances of the case, there is a greater display of
thoroughness amongst English Catholics than there
is to be found amongst Protestants. We are in
the minority, our creed is looked upon with
hatred and as an old-world dream, our priests are
dreaded and loathed, and we still have to undergo
that species of intellectual or moral persecution
which is more galling than physical violence, and
more difficult in the long run to:bear. Take, for
instance, the attitude of Cardinal Wiseman, when
the Papal Aggression mania was at its height.
lie showed the genuine English courage ; he was
bold and thorough, and outspoken and manly ;
and though the country was too blind with passion
at the time to acknowledge it, it made ample
amends at the Cardinal's death. Take, also, his
successor. The same firmness, clearness and calm-

ness, the true English courage in asserting un-
palatable truth, is to be found. We know no Eng-
lishman more English than the Archbishop of West-
minster. Ile loves his country with a deep and
genuine devotion, reverences her for her past, and
eagerly anticipates her future. He does not divide

and accommodate, and compromise. He loves the
whole truth in all the breadth and fulness of its
outline, and would extend her borders and spread
her tents with a quiet and calm determination,
which speaks both of a conviction and of a
courage which his greatest opponents must ad-

mire. He has spoken, and spoken boldly, on all
those questions which are vital to religion, and
unpopular in the world—on the temporal power,
on the relation of politics and religion, on the
Papacy, on, the Supernatural, on the infallibility of

If there is anything un-English in this world it
is the measured, artful, and shuffling method
whereby a man who belongs to the minority, and
to an unpopular creed, aims at dovetailing truth
and error, and amalgamating the poison of popu-
larity with the healthy but detested truths of
sound philosophy. Blowing hot and blowing cold,
smiling and smirking at the enemy, and, like Mr.
Walpole, weeping sympathetic tears at the origi-
nators of one's misfortunes, is not the way to gain
the respect of enemies or the good will of friends.
Men may write bilious attacks on Catholic pre-
lates in Protestant papers, cry down the high
courage of outspoken truth as extravagance, pare
down the doctrines of the Church to fit Protes-
tant pigeon-holes, but the only achievement they
will accomplish will be to render themselves sus-
pected by those whom they truckle to, and disgust
every right-hearted and honourable man. Let
such men with their names written out in full,
and with logic and reason, and not merely with
a slippery melody of words, state their cause, hold
by it like men, declare their position, and peal off
the chameleon colours which render them an.
enigma to all thoughtful men, and then there
may be 'some chance of knowing in reality what
and who they are. If they be Catholics, or if

•
they be Protestants, let them at least act as Eng-
lishmen, and then there will be no doubt as to
their principles and doctrine. Westminster Gazette.

CHARLES DICKENS'S IVELCOME IN

AMERICA.

The reception of Charles Dickens at Boston
marks two traits of American character—a generous
forgiveness and a sentimental folly. As a nation,
Americans are quick to take offence, and when
younger, weaker, and more sensible of defects, they
were not inaptly described in the words Dickens
puts in the mouth of one of his characters, " We
aire a nation that must be cracked up." But those
days are gone by. There is no more straining to
appear great; no more of the frog puffing itself out
to rival the ox. America has taken a place recog-
nised by all. A Yankee can now hear with a calm
disdain his country abused. He knows that envy
and fear lie at the root of the prejudice. lie is
aware that his people are the champions of prin-
ciples which are revolutionising the world, to the
dismay and confusion of European theories of go-
vernment. He can allow for the natural dislike
created in classes against whose long recognised
position his principles strike, and being aware that
he has nothing to fear from the closest scrutiny and
the fullest debate, either as to the greatness of his
own country or the truth of the doctrines he up-
holds, he rather rejoices, whatever the tone
may be of the criticism, to see the interest he
excites. Thus a great change has come
over the present generation, and there is no longer
that sensitiveness to detraction and hostile remarks
that formerly so peculiarly characterized the people.
America now fears no English writer, however
powerful, however satirical. Truth in the end is
sure to win, and however beautifully a man may ex-
press his thoughts, if they be false, they can impose
on few, and have very little influence. The enthu-
siastic welcome given to Mr. Dickens arose from no
desire in the Bostonians favourably to impress the
great English novelist. No other people more
keenly enjoy " a sensation," and they never lose a
chance of gratifying this desire. A feeling seems
simultaneously in their highly electric atmosphere
to be diffused among the masses, and they act toge-
ther under the strong impulse. This is pretty sure
to lead them into an extravagance at which they
themselves are the first to sneer. They enjoy the
" sensation," and laugh at the display. But the
moving causes of the welcome to Mr. Dickens are
not without their merits. America accords to lite-
rary reputation the highest place. Dickens is re-
cognised as one of the greatest writers, and as such
he would be sure of an ovation in the States. But
another motive actuated the Bostonians. Dickens
had once before met with a hospitality which
ran into extravagance, and he had replied to
this in a spirit of such biting sarcasm as to offend
the generation then existing. The annoyance was
probably aggravated by the undeniable truth of
much he wrote. But a great change has occurred
since then. The glaring contradiction of a republic
founded on the principle that all men are born equal,
according to one race au almost unrestrained free-
dom, and to another a hopele3s bondage, has ceased
to exist. With it has gone the sharp point which
enabled Dickens to penetrate so easily to the quick of
American sensitiveness. Those who aspire to the
highest position are keenly alive to any weakness
glaringly apparent. The beauty seeking to hide a
deformity she knows in her inmost heart cannot be
disguised, resents the stare at the defect. What a
comfort to her when the knife of a skilful surgeon
has eradicated the disease and removed every trace.
Then, indeed, in all the power of her beauty she can
come forth and challenge scrutiny ; then the stare
becomes one of envy, and the keen look one of ad-
miration. It is thus that the United States is now
enabled to receive visitors; especially those who
formerly merely alluded to her beauties while
dwelling strongly on her great blemish, desiring
to hear what they will say, now that the blemish
is gone. The people are glad of the opportunity
of showing that they bear no malice. Dickens
himself half feared to make the experiment, but in
this it is clear that he only half understood the
Americans. If they run into a little extravagance
it is because they like a sensation, because they ad-
mire the great author, and because it, is a national
characteristic to give rather a frantic expresoon to
any feeling excited,—Anglo-American 7imeq,

(From the lia-ivll Times.)
When A Rom; gave his decision reApecting
The s,iled Dove Case " this journal persistently
advocated the just &aims of the unfortunate backers
of that mare, and insisted on a reversal of his judg-
ment, which presstd so unfairly en them, mouths
before any other of the Sporting Press h.kd void
to say on their behalf. We;have no hesitation now
in stating that the referee's .awari in the late match
for the Championship of the Thames onght to be
contested on several gronn:l3, the principal of which
are the incompetency of the official in question, and
that he clearly usurped an authority which previous 1
to a start being effected, or proper attempts on his
part to obtain one, he was not entitled to do.
In either a common-sense or bpi point of view
Mr. Biffen's judgment was wrong, and although he
drew [erroneous?] inferences and acted according to
the dictat es of my conscience," which, for the sake
of argument, we will grant he did, it is very much to
be questioned if that will be any satisfaction to the
backers of Sadler. A referee should take nothing
for granted, and there are other dictates besides
those of a man's conscience whic:i are equally im-
portant, and would have served Mr. Biffen in
better stead on the occasion in question. Let us
suppose for a moment the case was that of the great
match some sixteen years ago b etween the Flying
DUtchtaan and Voltigeur, when half the world felt
an interest in it. Would it have.been the fluty or
within the province of the refereexe to receive
the complaint of-one of thelilidem and cth an ex parte
statement, out of sight and hearing of the other
party, to give him authority if his opponent refused
to start, to go over the course, and then award
him the stakes, especially if it could be proved the
latter half of his instructions only was carried
into effect. Such an unfortunate occurrence,
it is true, could not have occurred therein,
because it person was appointed to fulfil the
duty of starter ; but if an omission of the
same nature had occurred, is it likely that the late
Earl of Egliuton or Lord Zetland would have
allowed such a decision to pass unquestioned ? In
thisinstance—although when the articles were signed
Sadler's representative proposed that they should
start from two boats, as is usual in University
matches, and also that the course should be buoyed
for the first mile and a half, to prrevent fouling,
Kelley objected, or clauses to that effect would have
been inserted —it was left to mutual ;agreement.
A. court of justice will only tike facts into con-
sideration, and unless Mr. Biffen can prove that
Sadler refused to start, which he denies, or at any
rate give satisfactory proof that be did not intend
to do so, it will, we think, be equally palpable to
both judge and jury, as it is to ourselves, that he
had no power to adjudicate on the matter, and
exceeded the duties which attach to a referee under
such circumstances. At the same time no reason-
able person would have blamed him had he gone to
the starting post, from which he was always three
hundred yards distant (according to Bell's Life
sometimes half a mile), and used his influence with
both men to start in a "satisfactory manner ; but
in case of his failing in the attempt we should very
much doubt whether he then had the authority to
decide the match in Kelley's favour. In future, at
least, we may hope a clause relative to starting in
aquatic matches will always be inserted.

We have great pleasure in quoting the following
communication, which appeared in the Illustrated
Sporting Arms of Saturday :
Sir,—Your well-known impartiality has induced me to
communicate with you, so that th;s -a most important
question_Rhon'd be if possible fairly analysed. You, sir
have up to the present given no opinion, pro er con, as to
the refereu's conduct; and as the other portions of the
sporting press seem to differ iu opinion, the somewhat con-
alerable experience I have had as to the duties of a referee
may, if appearing in your columns, tend to give the meter
a dearer aspect. To all your readers who are conversant
with boatracing and the champion course it will be at
once patent that, in crossing from the Point to the Soap-
works, if the man with the Middlesex station bore the man
on the Surrey side so far that the latter must either go out of
his course or foul, in the event of such foul taking place
the Middlesex-side man is the guilty party, and according
to all decisions made up till last Wednesday, has been de-
cided against, whenever such foul has occurred. In the
race on Wednesday last, it is admitted by all that Sadler
had no alternative but to go ashore at the Seapworks or
to foul Kelley ; and of course he preferred the latter. The
backers of Sadler imagined that ho had won, rule and
precedent being so much in their favour, especially when
they called to mind the fact that for less than half as glar-
ing an error Sadler was disqualified in Ws race with
Chambers.

The intelligence of the referee's decision as to the foul
was, however, received in the most quiet and orderly
manner, those who had backed Sadler being rather dis-
appointed, but making no noisy demonstration—the pros-
pect of a splendid race on the morrow perhaps softening
their sorrow. As everybody knows, they were doomed to
a most grievous disappointment. Now, sir, conies the
most remarkable part of the question. Two men make a
match, and agree to start by " mutual consent," therefore it
is a notorious fact that the referee has no power until the
men have actually started. The law relating to •' mutual
consent" is the same in the aquatic as in the pedestrian
world, and many races in the North, on which thousands
of pounds depend, are settled in this manner, the referee
having no power, unless a certain time (mentioned in the
articles) has elapsed. if no time is mentioned, then the
men must remain at the post until they do start, or mu-
tually agree otherwise. 1 speak advisedly when I say that
this is the opinion not only of myself, but of some of the
most distinguished of our athlette both pr fessional and
amateur. Even admitting, for the sake of argument, the
referee's power to start the men ; who, viewing the mat-
ter impartially, would believe in the justice of that func-
tionary calling a man to the side of the official boat, and
telling him to be the judge of his opponent's willingness
to row, and to act accordingly, by rowing over if ho
thought proper ?
Nobody can blame Kelley for availing himself of this
" tip," and when ho started, I, as an eye-witness, can aver
flat neither Sadler nor any one else but the chosen few
who surrounded the referee was aware of the order. Tho
infallibility of the referee was decided some four years ago
in a court of law in London, when an obviously unjtist do
cisiou was set aside ; and I feel bound to assert that
although on that occasion the official's behaviour was de-
cidedly indecent, it had much more ground of feasibility
than that of Mr. Biffen. That gentleman has prejudiced
his hitherto good name to a great extent; the prevalent
opinion in the neighbourh od of Putney being that collu-
sion must have taken place ; and however much the friends
of Mr. Biffen and the backers of Kelley may feel disposed
to believe in the fairness of the decision, that porticu of
the public which has no partisan or monetary bias cannot
fail to sympathise with those gentlemen who have evinced
their determination to take the matter out of the jurisdic-
tion of either stakeholder or referee. Apologising for my
intrusion on your space, I enclose my name, and am, yours.
&c., Ex PE DES.
Doc. 4, 1867.

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"Mr. Jennings was, as usual, all day ha the tnearre,
and was the only person in the house with the three,
firemen, Brown, Easton, and Maynard, and the hall-keeper
and general custodian of the building, Mr. Sprules, and!
his wife, when the fire broke out. Mr. Jennings was,
forced from the theatre by the building being filled with
smoke and the roof flaming with fire at exactly a quar-
ter-past eleven, as he had an instant before made
reference to his watch. Noticing the intensely red
illumination of his room, which unnatural and fearful
halt totally overcame the white brightness of two gas
globes and the fire which was burning in the grate, Mr.
Jennings looked out into the Haymarket, and saw the
façade of buildings, and, at the end of Suffolk-place, all
the large windows of the Union Club, blazing with strong,
flickering light, exactly like the effect of a splendid
golden sunset, deepening into red, on a clear slimmer
evening. A passage of some length, opening at right,
angles to another long passage, which is the usual tho-
roughfare between the hall and the staircase leading up
to the stage, was, when he opened his door and entered
the passage, full of smoke. From the absence of the
usual gas-burners, which for the sake of economy on a
lay of non-performance, as Friday was, were not lit—Mr.
Jennings had difficulty in making his way through this
long, dark passage instinctively, from his intimate know-
ledge of the ramifications of the theatre, by feeling his
may along the wall, until discovering the hall, to the right,
snd the egress into the Opera Colonnade. The hall he
could with difficulty see across, from its being filled with
elack, rolling smoke, which was at that moment pouring
before the force of the raging flames at the nert:l-we.ltern
taxi west-m:4les .be theatre, which were confined, with-
Jilt windows, by brick walls tiend buildings. At this time the
bail was vacant. Not a soul was to be seen or heard, and
on forcing the street door back, and emerging into the
street, Mr. Jennings encountered the first policeman, who
with extraordinary efLetiveness and promptitude, was
giving the alarm right and left, and forcibly opposed Mr.
Jennings's desire and interltioh to return into the theatre,
and rescue his books and papers and property. At this
time scattered policemen and a miscellaneous group of
people were running towards thobuilding, and the audience
then quitting the Haymarket Theatre were congregating
in the vacant roadway in front of the burning buildings;
where the cloud of smoke was rolling. At this time not
an engine was to be seen, and only policemen and scat-
tered vehicles, and the usual crowd which occupies
the Haymarket ; even fewer persons were about than
usually seen. But it is to be considered that the hour
was late. There cannot be a doubt that the fire, which
must have been smouldering for hours, hours before,might
have been detected, since the smell of smoke, and espe-
cially that with a tinge of fire in it, is a great betrayer.
In this view there is no doubt that if any one had been in
this, the most remote and least frequented part of the
building at eight, or even seven o'clock, the threaten..
ing enemy might have been noticed. At this time
there was really no extraordinary alarm in the street ;
but the work of the fire was perfectly bewildering
and contradictory in its speed and modes of opera..
Lion. We aro quite sure teat we are quite correct in
stating that twenty minutes did this destroying work
over the bulk of the theatre. The whole of London was
illuminated for miles, and the various ehurch steeples
chewed, spiring up, like fiery obelisks, or torches, or as
fingerposts to point out space to the hurrying thousands
who were surging in one wild alarm of horses, men,
equipages, police, and firemen. The roof of the theatre
fell in masses, as it seemed, deep clown into the gigantic
mouth of the vast area or pit, now filled and alive with
fire, and scattering off, like rockets, its vaulting clouds of
sparks, similarly to monster flights of fireflies, laterally
and to skyward. The four hollow walls of the late,
splendid edifice were now as the curve of a prodigious
black cup, in which a noble sacrifice of art has been made.
Such was the grand end to this theatre.
" To Mr. Mapleson this proves a most serious check ana
difficulty. We are given to understand that the savings
of his entire operatic career, to the amount of £12,000;
are wholly gone. Furniture, fittings, the new magnificent
organ, four hundred new stalls of the most complete manu-
facture, music library, irreparable in its loss, hundreds of
costumes of all the operas, both for male and female ar-
tistes, the gigantic central' chandelier and the new gas
lustres round the tiers, musical instruments, draperies,'
pianofortes—in fact, all his apparatus and fittings neces-
sary for furnishing out confessedly the most beautiful and
perfect opera-house in the world—all have gone."
The damage done by the fire is now precisely known,
but it is difficult to estimate it in figures—some statements
going as high as £250,000. It has been stated that Mr.
Santley's property has escaped—a circumstance that will
be very gratifying to the admirers of the great English
baritone. Almost all the members of the orchestra havo
lost their instruments, amongst which were some old and
valuable violins, and about 300 persons have been suddenly
thrown out of employment. The destruction of the MS.
scores of old operas will be greatly lamented, but has not
been so large as at first supposed, owing to the fact that a
number of the manuscripts were kept in a Reliance fire-
proof safe, which withstood the fire. The amount of
insurances effected on the theatre and the surrounding
premises cannot be yet exactly ascertained, but it is
roughly estimated at about £203,000. It is said that
several of the London managers of theatres have promised
the use of their establishments for benefits in aid of the
persons who have been thrown out of employment.
In reference to the theatre, the Morning Herald re-
marks :—" What a capricious train has passed across that
stage now crumbled to ashes! eafrerelli, who could sing
well at G 5, who amassed in London enough money to buy
him a dukedom at home, and who told a prince of his
day that he had in.him the voice of any two of the then
riving artists; Gabrielli, who would not sing to the
Empress of Russia, after her London triumphs, for less
than 5,000 ducats, who seas told by the Czarina that not
one of her generals received so much, who replied, ' You
had better ask your generals to sing for you,' and who thus,
by being indomitably impudent, obtained the sum she had
asked ; Mara, who came here with a reputation gamed by
her having refused to sing for Frederick the Great, and
who, after the burning down of the King's Theatre, was
prima donna at the Pantheon ; Banti, who bequeathed
her larynx to the municipality of Bologna, in which city it
is devoutly cherished in a giasi case ; Billington, " the
Wonder ;" Brahamovho came in with the century and stir-
prisedagenerationunaccustomedtoEnglishvoices ; andthen
Oatalani, who for a while suppressed all rivalry, queened
it in the domain of songstresses, delighted all hearers, in.:
sisted upon half the gross receipts of the Opera House,
and netted £20,000 in six months. With even that ex-
orbitant burden upon it, the Opera House flourished for
the season. In other countries, be it remembered, it IS
almost universally subsidised; with us it l4 *leg 1.49,
siiosi rum print(' iniebrifidet