Garrick's Pupil Part 3

"What an odd idea!"

"In order to habituate people to the sight and usage of his instrument, Hanway selects rainy days for his perambulations, when he can spread his portable tent. The children throw mud at him and the serving maids laugh. It is free sport to try to crush his umbrella. They make all manner of fun of him, but perhaps it is wrong, since the folly of to-day is the wisdom of to-morrow."

At last Esther knew all the guests. Mr. Gibbon had named them all, except one whose name she did not inquire.

Seated at the extremity of the room, Frank every now and then allowed his sad, unfathomable eyes to wander towards the girl. Indifferent to all that was uttered about him, his melancholy contrasted powerfully with the joyous air which every face wore. Even though she smiled at Mr.

Gibbon's quips and responded to the lively, caressing words of Lady Vereker, Miss Woodville was conscious of the espionage, and the sentiment it evoked was not displeasing to her.

The conversation became general, often rising far above whispered particularities. War became the topic, and the latest news from America.

It was said that the savages who were fighting with the English had killed and eaten some American colonists, and not one of the European generals had raised a hand to stay the barbarity. A caricature, exposed at Humphrey's, depicted George III. taking part in the frightful orgy and disputing possession of a bone with an Indian chief.

"It is horrible!" cried Miss Burney; "our poor king has nothing whatever to do with it, but how can English gentlemen ally themselves with these cannibals?"

The casual mention of Cape Breton in the conversation reminded Mr. Burke of an anecdote. Every one present lapsed into silence to hear it.

"Indolent as may be our masters of to-day," he said, "they will never equal the sloth and ignorance of the late Duke of Newcastle. You cannot imagine his astonishment when one day some one informed him that Cape Breton was an island. 'A cape an island!' he exclaimed; 'I am amazed. I really must tell the king. He will be vastly diverted!' This man would have sacrificed cities and provinces without so much as a thought. But what mattered it to him, so long as he was minister!"

"Our own are not much better than he," remarked one of the guests; "they have disgraced Admiral Keppel, the only man to-day who is able to sweep the seas of the French and Spaniards."

"Bah! Rodney is worth twenty Keppels."

"Rodney! a bl.u.s.terer! Have you heard of his adventure with Marechal de Biron?"

"No; what is it?"

"He had taken refuge from his creditors in France and was dining at the Marshal's table. 'Ah,' he remarked, 'were it not for my debts I would return and would destroy your fleet until not one of your vessels remained.'--'Monsieur,' replied the Marechal, 'pray do not let that deter you. Your debts are paid. Go and fight us--if you can!' That was three years ago; Rodney commands our fleet, thanks to the friendship of Lord Sandwich, and the naval power of our enemies is still intact!"

From this grand topic the conversation suddenly changed to the discussion of worldly amus.e.m.e.nts 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.

"She is adorable!"

"A leaden idol, your Siddons!"

Next they discussed Pacchierotti, the famous Italian tenor, and his approaching _debut_ in a new _role_. 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?"

"She's too great a woman for that!"

"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 a.s.sumed his att.i.tude of combat.

"Madam!" he burst forth in a voice of thunder, and there he paused like Hercules with club poised in air.

"The bolt is about to fall," whispered Gibbon.

An atmosphere of apprehension prevailed about the table. Lady Vereker alone, with an intrepid though somewhat pallid smile, raised her pretty head with charming effrontery to brave the blow. But it was Fate's decree that the bolt should not fall, and that the Doctor should not be heard from that evening. Just at the moment that his lips parted to avenge the honor of Mrs. Thrale, the door opened to admit Ralph. With a fluttered air he hastened to his master and whispered a word or two in his ear.

Sir Joshua was upon his feet in an instant.

"Gentlemen," he cried, "great news! It appears that we have calumniated Rodney! He has completely routed the Spanish fleet under Admiral Langara. Five vessels are captured; one is blown up and the rest dispersed! Rodney has washed his hands of one half of his engagement to Marechal de Biron. Permit me to propose the health of Admiral Rodney!"

Naturally Burke, like his friend Reynolds, would have preferred to drink to the health of Keppel; but patriotism proved more potent than party spirit. All the guests rose to drink the proposed toast, and the repast ended as it had begun,--in a sort of joyous tumult. Thereupon they left the table, and each one went his way in pursuit of pleasure or business,--Reynolds to the academy, Burke to Parliament; Johnson and Boswell wended their way to the "Turk's Head," that taproom where literary folk were wont to meet. Mr. Gibbon offered his arm to Miss Burney to escort her to her father's house, Dr. Burney, who lived near by at the head of St. Martin's Street; while Lady Vereker declared that she would permit no one but herself the pleasure of seeing Miss Woodville home to her aunt.

"I shall carry you away!" she said in a decided way which would not have been out of place upon the lips of a veritable cavalier.

Her ladyship's little black page, arrayed in a rich Oriental costume of crimson embroidered in gold, ran before them to lower the carriage steps. The majestic Hungarian chamberlain doffed his plumed hat and smote the pavement with his tall cane. The footmen, shaking their great epaulettes, quickly sprang to their posts and climbed to the back of the coach.

Upon entering the warmed and perfumed equipage, Esther descried two living forms moving about, two bundles of flesh and hair in ribbons, which sprang upon Lady Vereker.

"Wait a moment!" said she; "permit me to present you.--Bambino, my monkey; Spadillo, my favorite dog. The former comes from Barbadoes, the latter from Vigo. Pray notice that they wear my colors. I adore them both, and I would refuse to go anywhere, even to Paradise, without Bambino and Spadillo."

At that moment the horses started off with much pawing and champing, and simultaneously the eyes of the two women fell upon Francis Monday, who stood upon the threshold of the mansion, bowing to them with profound respect.

CHAPTER III.

LADY VEREKER'S BOUDOIR.

"He's not bad, that boy," said the _grande dame_, "Miss Reynolds has often told me how her brother found him in the street."

"Is it possible?"