CHAPTER XIII.
Omne ignotum pro magnifico.--Rumour, knowing nothing of his
antecedents, exalts Gentleman Waife into Don Magnifico.
The Comedian and his two coadjutors were followed to the Saracen's Head
inn by a large crowd, but at respectful distance. Though I know few
things less pleasing than to have been decoyed and entrapped into an
unexpected demand upon one's purse,--when one only counted, too, upon
an agreeable evening,--and hold, therefore, in just abhorrence the
circulating plate which sometimes follows a public oration, homily, or
other eloquent appeal to British liberality; yet, I will venture to say,
there was not a creature whom the Comedian had surprised into impulsive
beneficence who regretted his action, grudged its cost, or thought he had
paid too dear for his entertainment. All had gone through a series of
such pleasurable emotions that all had, as it were, wished a vent for
their gratitude; and when the vent was found, it became an additional
pleasure. But, strange to say, no one could satisfactorily explain to
himself these two questions,--for what, and to whom had he given his
money? It was not a general conjecture that the exhibitor wanted the
money for his own uses. No; despite the evidence in favour of that idea,
a person so respectable, so dignified, addressing them, too, with that
noble assurance to which a man who begs for himself is not morally
entitled,--a person thus characterized must be some high-hearted
philanthropist who condescended to display his powers at an Institute
purely intellectual, perhaps on behalf of an eminent but decayed author,
whose name, from the respect due to letters, was delicately concealed.
Mr. Williams, considered the hardest head and most practical man in the
town, originated and maintained that hypothesis. Probably the stranger
was an author himself, a great and affluent author. Had not great and
affluent authors--men who are the boast of our time and land--acted, yea,
on a common stage, and acted inimitably too, on behalf of some lettered
brother or literary object? Therefore in these guileless minds, with all
the pecuniary advantages of extreme penury and forlorn position, the
Comedian obtained the respect due to prosperous circumstances and high
renown. But there was one universal wish expressed by all who had been
present, as they took their way homeward; and that wish was to renew the
pleasure they had experienced, even if they paid the same price for it.
Could not the long-closed theatre be re-opened, and the great man be
induced by philanthropic motives, and an assured sum raised by voluntary
subscriptions, to gratify the whole town, as he had gratified its
selected intellect? Mr. Williams, in a state of charitable thaw, now
softest of the soft, like most hard men when once softened, suggested
this idea to the Mayor. The Mayor said evasively that he would think of
it, and that he intended to pay his respects to Mr. Chapman before he
returned home, that very night: it was proper. Mr. Williams and many
others wished to accompany his worship. But the kind magistrate
suggested that Mr. Chapman would be greatly fatigued: that the presence
of many might seem more an intrusion than a compliment; that he, the
Mayor, had better go alone, and at a somewhat later hour, when Mr.
Chapman, though not retired to bed, might have had time for rest and
refreshment. This delicate consideration had its weight; and the streets
were thin when the Mayor's gig stopped, on its way villa-wards, at the
Saracen's Head.
