"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 blusterer! Have you heard of his adventure with Maréchal 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 Maréchal, '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 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.
"She is adorable!"
"A leaden idol, your Siddons!"
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.