Macaulay in the Role of a Pickpocket
In clever sketches of social life in Rome, Mr. T. Adolphus Trollope repeats a story that was told during “A Moonlight Visit to the Coliseum,” showing how Lord Macaulay had once robbed a man there of his watch. One night, while strolling under the dark arches, all of a sudden a man in a large cloak brushed past him rather rudely, as Macaulay thought, and passed on into the darkness. Macaulay’s first impulse was to clasp his hand to his watch-pocket; and sure enough he found that his watch was not there. He looked after the man, who he doubted not had stolen his watch as he brushed past him, and peering into the darkness could just distinguish the outline of a figure moving farther away. Macaulay without the loss of a second rushed after him, overtook him, and seizing him by the collar demanded his watch. Macaulay could at that time speak very little Italian, and understood none when spoken. So he was obliged to limit his attack on the thief to a violent shaking of him by the collar and an angry repetition of the demand, “Orologio! orologio!” The man thus attacked poured forth a torrent of rapidly-spoken words, of which Macaulay understood not one syllable. But he again administered a severe shaking to his captive, stamping his foot angrily on the ground, and again vociferating “Orologio! orologio!” Whereupon the detected thief drew forth a watch and handed it to his captor. Macaulay, satisfied with his prowess in having thus recaptured his property, and not caring for the trouble of pursuing the matter any further, turned on his heel as he pocketed the watch, and saw nothing more of the man. But when he returned to his apartment at night, his landlady met him at the door, holding out something in her hand, and saying, “Oh, sir, you left your watch on the table, so I thought it better to take care of it. Here it is.” “Good gracious! What is this, then? What is the meaning of it?” stammered Macaulay, drawing from his pocket the watch he had so gallantly recovered in the Coliseum. It was a watch he had never seen before. The truth was plain: he had been the thief! The poor man he had so violently attacked and apostrophized in the darkness and solitude of the Coliseum arches had been terrified into surrendering his own watch to the resolute ruffian who, as he conceived, had pursued him to rob him. The next morning Macaulay, not a little crestfallen, hastened to the office of the questor with the watch and told his story. “Ah, I see,” said the questor; “you had better leave the watch with me. I will make your excuses to the owner of it; he has already been here to denounce you.”