From this grand topic the conversation suddenly changed to the discussion of worldly amusements upon which the war had had no effect. They spoke of the last success of Siddons. Upon the queen of tragedy, as upon Admiral Rodney, there was, although the political question had amounted to nothing, a confused mixture of opinions which clashed and provoked comment.
Next they discussed Pacchierotti, the famous Italian tenor, and his approaching _début_ in a new _rôle_. Then they spoke of the new books. Some one at the table mentioned the word "bluestocking." The expression was a novelty at the time, and created a sensation.
"Don't allude to bluestockings in my presence!" cried the author of "Evelina," making a shield of her fan.
"You a bluestocking!" exclaimed Burke indignantly. "There is no bluestocking where there is no leaven of pedantry. Now, if it were a question of poor Mrs. Carpenter."
"Yes," interposed Gibbon, "the ill-starred lady has translated Epictetus!"
"And Mrs. Cholmondeley,--do you give her a place among the bluestockings?"
"I was at her house yesterday," remarked Miss Burney; "I found her very affable."
"Affability," muttered Dr. Johnson, "is the first lieutenant of pride."
In hot haste Boswell produced his tablets from his pocket in order to note the aphorism which had fallen from the oracle's lips.
"I find Mrs. Thrale a worthy person," remarked Gibbon, "and an agreeable mistress of her house."
"The wife of a brewer?" inquired Lady Vereker, with just a hint of disdain in her tone.
"A most intelligent woman!" retorted Miss Burney; "she has saved her husband from ruin."
"But it appears that she has not preserved him from another accident," replied Lady Vereker languidly.
The guests were beginning to indulge in a smile, when suddenly Dr. Johnson's formidable head began to oscillate, while from his chair emanated a cracking sound of evil augury. Until this moment he had remained silent, breathing heavily between his closely set teeth as if trying to imitate the hiss of a saw, meanwhile enveloping his neighbor, Miss Burney, with a glance of grotesque tenderness in which paternal interest struggled with love; but at the sarcasm of Lady Vereker against his friend, Mrs. Thrale, he bridled and assumed his attitude of combat. "Madam!" he burst forth in a voice of thunder, and there he paused like Hercules with club poised in air.