1 OCTOBER 1836, Page 15

THE OLD WORLD AND THE NEW.

ALTHOUGH a perusal of Mr. DEWEY'S visit to Europe will not induce a recall of the opinion we passed upon it from a few occa- sional dips, yet the book has turned out different from what we expected. There is more of reflection and less of observation than we looked for: from circumstances that come before him, the writer deduces lessons chiefly applicable to his countrymen.; or from his own European experiences lie passes his opinion on ques- tions of very general interest,—as Catholicism, Aristocracy, and so forth. In choosing his subjects for description, -Mr. DawEv, moreover, is somewhat odd, if not arbitrary ; more guided by his own feelings, than the intrinsic importance of the objects. London as a whole, for instance, and the impression it made, is left out : even his single subjects are limited, and rather singular,—the Colosseum, CHANTREY'S Studio, the Tower, the Thames Tunnel, and Greenwich Fair. His manner also smacks of the courteous and popular divine, and reminds one occasionally of a "dis- course ;" and his style, if not consisting of a combination of Dr. CHANNING and Mrs. Hamasts, has evidently been formed upon their study. Still these things are rather peculiarities than defects. By speaking only of that which strikes him, an air of reality is pro- duced, very contrary to the making-up process of certain authors; and we get, moreover, the cream of his thoughts. It is well to have the feelings and opinions of an educated American upon European things and practices, especially when that American is a Churchman of Catholic liberality and natural good sense. His style is indeed a shade too fine, especially when the subject re- quires more strength than flourish; and his fluency sometimes tempts him to pour forth his sentiments in a way that seems ex- otic to the livers in this matter-of-fact age, but no doubt in Ame- rica it is considered sober, and in Mr. Dzwav it looks natural.

The time our author spent in his tour was nearly a twelvemonth. He visited England, Ireland, Scotland, France, Flanders, Switzer- land, and Italy; and having no distinct pursuit in view, be appears, and very judiciously, not to have bustled and fidgeted, and laboriously panted to look after mere sights, but to have been guided by the impulses of the time, to have gone wherever his humour prompted him, and to have received impressions, instead of going in search of them. The following is one of his first. -

One of the first things that strikes the American stranger as he lands on the shores of the Old World, is the attention and deference he receives front those classes of the people whose business it is to minister to his comfort—from inn- keepers, proprietors, and drivers of coaches, waiters, porters, &c. servants of all descriptions—from those, in short, the breath of whose life is in the civility of their manners. It is a strong bond fur civil behaviour, doubtless, this neces- sity of getting a livelihood, and especially in countries where a livelihood is Lard to come by; and it may cause civility to degenerate into servility : still, were it not to be wished that something of the manner at least could be learned in our country? Not that any class among us should entertain a sense of its relation to any other class that would be degrading to it—the very contrary. There is nothing that is more incompatible with a just self-respect than the manners of a churl. No man really respects himself who is guilty of discour- tesy to others. The waiter who brings me my dinner, and stands behind my chair while I eat it, very commonly shows in his frank and easy bearing as much self-respect as I myself can feel. And the coachman who, when 1 ask him to give me a seat on the box with him, touches his hat as he answers, seems to me a far more respectable person than the stage-driver of our country, who often answers with a surly indifference, as if he did nos care whether you sat there or sat anywhere at all. Both the coachman and the waiter are look- ing to you for a gratuity, it is true, in payment for their attentions ; but it is a fair compact, and degrading to neither party; and, for my part, I am as will- 'ng to pay for civility as for my dinner. One would like to buy not only his .iinner, but some reasonable chance of digesting it ; and that is hard to du when one has to digest slovenliness, negligence, and ill manners besides.

In saying that Mr. DEWEY had no distinct pursuit, we were cor- rect; but his profession gives him an object, and that is the church and religion generally. Wherever he goes, the sacred edifice of the place and the mode of performing service are the first things that claim his attention ; and that, perhaps, in an undue degree, if it were not for his graceful wanner and the subdued animation of his style. Here is his account of York Minster.

York is a queer old place, worth coming a good many miles to see for its one sake. But the Minster! it is worth a pilgrimage to see it. It is the only build- ing I have ever seen in a city that stands up and out so completely from the sur- rounding mass of buildings, that it is, from every quarter, distinctly presented to the eye. The Minster, amid the city of York, stands like the elephant in a menagerie. Its proportions, too, are so perfect, its character so unique, that it makes upon the mind one single impression. You take in the whole object, and feel all its overpowering grandeur at the first glance of the eye. And yet It seems to me, that if I were to live in sight of it a thousand years, it would lose none of the indescribable charm with Which it first entranced me. Indeed I shall attempt no description ; I dare not bring my measurements here. Nay, it appears to me that the impression here does not depend on any exact idea of sae or of parts. It is a whole--4t makes its impression as a whole ; and you can no more receive that impression from the successive sentences of a description, Mau you could receive it from exeatemplating in succession the different parts of the structure itself. There is a sanctity and venerableness al o it many of the English churchee, and even those of the humblest order, which nothing but time indeed can give to the churches of our country, but which time will never give to them, unless we learn to build them with more durable materials than wood or brick. There is something in these churches which leads you instinctively to take off your hat when you enter them ; a ditty, by the by, of which your attendant is sure to admonish you, if you fail of it ; and I would that the practice were more coin. mon than it is among us.

So it was in Italy ; and in Italy too he exhibits a Christian charity and a philosophic liberality, very opposite to that spirit which characterizes many divines of these establishments, which HUME held to be necessary evils for the prevention of fanaticism. If Mr. DEWEY be a fair sample of the Voluntary principle, it works as ADAM SMITH predicted it would work—in the production of a Spirit of candour and moderation. Many of the passages, as in the following extract, are so blended with the current of his narrative, as scarcely to admit of independent extract ; but the spirit of charity is visible throughout, yet without any compro- mise of his own faith. Mr. DEWEY expressly states his opinion that Catholicism is not " the religion of actual and active life; the religion of contemplation, and fancy, and reverie, and sentiment, but not the religion of self-restraint, and of a strict conscience, and of a rigorous virtue." But what an answer does the following fact give to the frauds and forgeries, the cant and blasphemy, of the reverend diatribes we have been stunned with at home !

December 29. I hail an interview to-day with the Rector and some students of the Propaganda. I learned from them, that this celebrated institution for propagating the Catholic faith is governed by a board of twenty Cardinals; that i its income s about one hundred thousand dollars* per annum ; and that its present nuniber of students is about one hundred, of whom thirteen are from the United States. The Rector is a German Count, apparently not more than thirty years of age—M. Reisach ; and the young gentleman with whom I met were the American students. We had much conversation upon various topics for two or three hours ; some minutes of which I shall just note. They stated the surprising fact, that the Pope's annual expenditure, for personal and house- hold purposes, is only fourteen thousand dollars. They ridiculed the idea that he has sent, as has been alleged, the sum of one hundred thousand dollars, from, his private purse, to America ; nor has the Propaganda, they say, ever ex- pended on American missions more than thirty or forty thousand dollars. On the subject of exclusive salvation, they stated a doctrine, saving a little tinge of assumption, as liberal as any one could desire. It was, that sincere convic- tion of being right must spread its shield over all those who entertain it. The assumption lay in an implied reservation of rightful supremacy for the Catholic Chinch ; but they distinctly held, that if man should leave the Mother Church from sincere and honest conviction, the dissent was not to be deemed fatal.

In that part of the Journal relating to Italy, there is a gooi deal of criticism on paintings and statues ; not learned or artistica], to which accomplishments our author makes no pretension, but ge- neral and descriptive. Of this the account of the Dying Gladiator may furnish a fair specimen. We may, however, observe, that, as a general rule, criticism of this kind is rarely trustworthy, depending as it does so much upon the temperament, imagination, and even humour of the critic.

December 12. I have been to-day through the museum of the Capitol again, and have become a convert entirely to the common opinion about the Dying Gladiator. The truth is, I did not take time enough before, and especially not enough of that mental time, which is quietness, ease of mind, leisure of the thoughts, to receive the impression. The gladiator has fallen ; but with the last effort of his unconquerable resolution, he supports himself with his right hand and arm, and seems to contemplate his sad fate with firmness, but with a feeling of inexpressible bitterness. It is not, however, the bitterness of anger ; for death is in his face, and it has tamed down the fiercer passions, and left no expression inconsistent with its own all-subduing power. Though he appears as if he might be a man of a humble and hard lot, yet there is a delicacy spread over the stronger features of his countenance, that makes it almost beautiful ; you feel as if there were more than the .whiteness of the marble in his pale cheek. But while he thus yields to his fate,. while the blood flows from his wounded side, and the pulses of life are faint and low, yet he still sustains himself; his hand is firm and strong ; his brow is gathered into an expression of unconquerable resolution, as well as of unavailing regret; and although, when you lock at the parted lips, it seems as if you could almost hear the hard breathing that issues from thew, yet abaut the mouth there is, at the same time the finest expression of indomitable will and invincible fortitude. In short, ;his is the triumph of the mind over the sinkings of nature ill its last hour. Every thing here invites your respect, rather than your pity : and even if you should find yourself giving a tear to the dying gladiator, you will feel that it is given quite as much to atuiration as to sympathy.

There are, however, other things in the Old World and the New, besides art and religion or remarks on manners. The author sketches, or rather touches off, things and persons with spirit ; and the circumstance of his being a stranger gives a novelty to many of his comments. As a specimen of his manner and his subjects, we close with a few miscellaneous extracts.

IDIGOAAS IN DUBLIN.

Dublin is indeed a fine city, and filled with, noble mansions and showy equipages; but alas! all is marred by this dismal-looking population. Fu'l half that I meet in the streets very shabbily dressed, many in rags,—the boys would collect in America, and the very dogs would bark at spectacles that pass me every moment ; limn and women on every side begging ; women with children in their arms, imploring charity for God's sake ; yes, innocent child,. hood is here involved in the common mass of misery, and that is the hardest of it to the spectator. Indeed, I have seldom seen any thing more striking or touching than a child sleeping in its mother's arms amid all this surrounding turmoil and distress. It is actually picturesque, if one may say so: the image of repose amid noise and turbulence; innocence amid vice and wretchedness; unconscious ease on the bosom of suffering ; helplessness imploring even more pathetically than the wan and haggard features of maternal solicitude. No doubt, there is a good deal of acting in this system of beggary. For instance, I saw a little girl last evening seated on the curb-stone of the side-walk, and holding in her arms a sleeping infant, but holding a candle at the same time so as to exhibit the infant to the best advantage. This is going on the stage- pretty early. What the receipts were I do not know, but they doubtless ex.- peeted to be repaid the outlay of lights and wardrobe and something more.

• It a as three hundred thousand dollars before the French were here.

GENERAL ASPECT OR BELGIUM.

The change in passing from France to Belgium at Baisieux, just before enter- ing Tourney, is very striking ; altogether in favour of Belgium as to neatness, comfortable appearance cf living, and houses; though I thought there was rather a Flemish heaviness about the faces of the people, neater and more com- fortable as they were.

Everywhere on the route, but especially in Belgium, the women seemed to do as much and hard and various work as the men : they tramp about in wooden shoes, which adds a double appearance of heaviness to their movements, and almost of slavery to their condition. The country is very rich and well- cultivated ; but it impressed me with a strange feeling of melancholy all the while, for there seemed nothing in it but toil and its fruits ; no intelligence ap- parently in the general countenance ; no leisure, no agieeable-looking country houses, or cottages embowered with trees; no gardens with people walking or sitting in them ; no persons having the air of gentlemen or ladies riding or walking out as we entered or left the villages and cities ; and the cities and vil- lages not wearing an inviting aspect, with close, narrow streets, irregular, old, obstinately fixed in stone against all improvement, and tilled with men, women, and children, without one being of attractive appearance among them—almost without one.

CONTINENTAL BEGGARS.

The people generally look more contented than our people. It would seem from appearances, as if there could not be much want among them ; and yet there are many beggars. There is not the sentiment of shame about begging that there would be with us. Beggar boys and girls, vety comfortably clad, too, will join the carriage and run along, singing out in a plaintive tune, " BOBS, Monsieur, pour chariti: ; " apparently calculating that importunity will succeed though all other appeals tail. There is certainly something very touching in the tones of the French tongue. I have seldom felt any thing of this sort more than the plea of a poor fellow I met in Litch- field (Eng.) I said to him, for he was a young man, " You look as if you could work." He seemed to understand my objection ; and I am sure he anni- hilated it, as, the tears coming to his eyes, he said, " Jo suis 6tranger, pauvre, roulade." And yet what to do, one knows not ; for this indiscriminate giving must be bad, and this unscrupulous asking and clamorous impottunity are shocking.

The chief drawback on these two volumes are the points already mentioned,—a disposition to sentimentalize, and the American nature of many of the reflections. This last, however, was de- signed : indeed, the main object of the author was "to offer to his countrymen some of the thoughts which the Old World had sug- gested to his mind concerning the Now;" so that, if remote to Eng- lish readers, they cannot be considered as a blemish. Take It altogether, Dewey's Journal is a delightful mixture of facts and reflections.