14 JULY 1832, Page 13

EMBARKATION OF FIELDING IN 1754 AND OF SIR WALTER SCOTT

IN 1832.

Two affecting incidents in the history of literature have been placed in juxtaposition by the C'hron'icle,—the departure of Sir WALTER Scorr from London, and the setting out of FIELDING on his last journey. " A paragraph, which appeared in the Chronicle of yesterday, affords us a criterion for determining the decency of the same class of people at different periods- ' On Saturday evening, Sir Walter Scott. accompanied by his two daughters and Mr. Lockhart, embarked on board the James Watt steam-packet for Leith. The party arrived at Blackwall in two travelling carriages, in one of which lay Sir Walter Scott in a recumbent posture, with Mr. Lockhart seated by his side. The vessel was lying at the jetty, and the carriage was hoisted on board by means of a large crane, and when on deck was gently wheeled to the door of the cabin appropriated to the use of the illustrious Baronet. The most entire stillness prevailed throughout the interval—even the accustomed yen hoe, which was at one moment given, was scarcely made audible to the bystanders. It was also altogether a scene of the most painful interest, and forcibly impressed all present.'

" Henry Fielding embarked on the same spot for Lisbon, on June 26, 1754. He had attained the greatest celebrity, not merely in England, but throughout Europe, and his genius is at least equal to that of Sir Walter Scott. He exhibited, on embarkation, the spectacle of a man posting rapidly to the other world. But listen to the account he gives us from the very people who sympathized with the sufferings of Sir Walter Scott-

. I think, upon my entrance into the boat, I presented a spectacle of the highest horror. The total loss of limbs was apparent to all who saw me; and my face con- tained marks of a most diseased state, if not of death itself. Indeed, so ghastly was my countenance, that timorous women with child had abstained from my house, for fear of the ill consequences of looking at me. In this condition I ran the gauntlope (so I think they very justly call it) through rows of sailors and watermen, few of whom failed of paying their compliments to me, by all manner of insults and jests on my misery. No man who knew me will think I conceived any personal resentment at this behaviour ; but it was a lively picture of that cruelty and inhumanity in the nature of men, which I have often contemplated with concern ; and which lead the mind into a train of very uncomfortable and melancholy thoughts. It may be said, that this barbarous custom is peculiar to the English, and of them only to the lowest degree.'

" The English may now be the most thievish people in Europe, but they are certainly not now a brutal people ; and the charge is in this respect, in our opinion, more than compensated for the other. It is much to live among a peo- ple who do not constantly make you dissatisfied with human nature itself. No individual of the crowd had ever probably heard even of Fielding, or any indivi- dual who had conferred lustre on his country by talents of any kind. But even the poorest individual feels himself in some degree ennobled by the genius of his country; and we see the fruit of it in the homage paid to the Great Wizard of the North."

It will be seen that the difference of the behaviour of the people is attributed to superior refinement. The brutality of cracking jokes. upon the spectacle of a human being sinking into the grave, or on his last effort to recover health and strength, seems to have nothing to do with the celebrity of the parties. The circumstances of the two cases quoted are not the same. Sir WALTER SCOTT'S cortege was imposing : his two carriages were enabled to drive to the water's edge, and a powerful crane swung him, as he lay in the barouche, into the magnificent steam-boat. FIELDING'S em- barkation was very different : banded down in a blanket, a wretched object, between lines of watermen and sailors, to be deposited in a miserable little wherry, then to be carried to his ship, he was a sadder-looking creature, and, unhappily, a much poorer and less respected person than the modern invalid ; and was better known, perhaps, as the magistrate than the novelist, and not improbably recognized in the crowd by some such former companions as Ho- RACE WALPOLE found him with at supper in a garret,—the blind fiddler, and the women of unequivocal reputation. Veneration for rank and wealth is not new in England. Had the Author of Tom Jones been conducted with as much luxurious state as the Author of Thwerley, the mob might have forgotten the Police Magistrate, and respected his woes. We do not wish to undervalue the improvement made upon former times, but would gladly hail every indication of it : it will, however, do no good to count upon the existence of sympathies and refinements which are not. Bandy a poor dying wretch through a mob, in a blanket or on a shutter,— let his disease be cholera or consumption,—and then listen to the expressions of commiseration he is likely to meet with : and should it get about that the unhappy person was an author, whether of poems or romances, we fear that the circumstance would only help to point the joke or lend malice to the jeer.