Part 9 (1/2)

If not one of the most brilliant, certainly one of the most a.s.siduous of f.a.gan's emissaries was a certain Samuel Cotterell,--a man who held the high and responsible dignity of state trumpeter in the Irish Court. He was a large, fine-looking, though somewhat over-corpulent, personage, with a most imposing dignity of air, and a calm self-possession of manner that well became his functions. Perhaps this was natural to him; but some of it may well be attributed to his sense of the dignity of one who only appeared in public on the very greatest occasions, and was himself the herald of a splendid ceremonial.

From long a.s.sociation with the Viceregal Court, he had grown to believe himself a part, and by no means an insignificant part, of the Government, and spoke of himself as of one mysteriously but intimately mixed up in all the acts of the State. The pretentious absurdity, the overweening vanity of the man, which afforded so much amus.e.m.e.nt to others, gave no pleasure to f.a.gan,--they rather vexed and irritated him; but these were feelings that he cautiously concealed, for he well knew the touchy and irritable nature of the man, and that whatever little information could be derived from him was only come-at-able by indulging his vein of self-esteem.

It had been for years his custom to pay a visit to f.a.gan on the eve of any great solemnity, and he was snugly installed in the little bow-window on the evening of the 26th May, with a goodly array of gla.s.ses and a very formidable square decanter of whiskey on a table in front of him. f.a.gan, who never could trust to the indiscreet propensity of Polly to ”quizz” his distinguished friend, had sent her to spend the day in the country with some acquaintances; Raper was deep in a difficult pa.s.sage of Richter, in his own chamber; so that the Grinder was free to communicate with the great official unmolested and undisturbed.

Most men carry into private life some little trait or habit of their professional career. The lawyer is apt to be pert, interrogative, and dictatorial; the doctor generally distils the tiresomeness of the patient in his own conversation; the soldier is proverbially pipeclay; and so perhaps we may forgive our friend Cotterell if his voice, in speaking, seemed to emulate the proud notes of his favorite instrument, while his utterance came in short, broken, abrupt bursts,--faint, but faithful, imitations of his brazen performances in public. He was naturally not given to talking, so that it is more than probable the habit of _staccato_ was in itself a great relief to him.

I will not pretend to say that f.a.gan's patience was not sorely tried as well by the matter as the manner of his friend. His pursuit of politics was, indeed, under the greatest of difficulties; but he labored on, and, like some patient gold-seeker, was satisfied to wash the sand for hours, rewarded with even a few grains of the precious metal at the end of his toil.

”Help yourself, Sam. That's the poteen,--this, here, is Kinahan,” said the Grinder, who well knew that until the finish of the third tumbler, Mr. Cotterell's oracle gave no sound. ”Help yourself, and remember you 'll have a fatiguing day to-morrow!”

”A great day,--say rather a great day for Ireland,” tolled out the trumpeter.

”That's to be seen,” replied f.a.gan, caustically. ”I have witnessed a good many of those great days for Ireland, but I 'd be sorely puzzled to say what has come of them.”

”There are three great days for Ireland every year. There's the opening, one; the King's, two; St. Patrick's, three--”

”I know all that,” muttered Tony, discontentedly.

”St. Patrick's, three; and a collar day!” repeated Sam, solemnly.

”Collars, and curs to wear them,” growled out Tony, under his breath.

”Ay, a collar day!” and he raised his eyes with a half devotional expression at these imposing words.

”The Duke will open Parliament in person?” asked f.a.gan, as a kind of suggestive hint, which chanced to turn the talk.

”So we mean, sir,--we have always done so. Procession to form in the Upper Castle Yard at twelve; battle-axes in full dress; Ulster in his tabard!”

”Yes, yes; I have seen it over and over again,” sighed f.a.gan, wearily.

”Sounds of trumpet in the court--flouris.h.!.+”

”Flourish, indeed!” sighed Tony; ”it's the only thing does flourish in poor Ireland. Tell me, Sam, has the Court been brilliant lately?”

”We gave two dinners last week--plain dress--bags and swords!”

”And who were the company?”

”Loftus, Lodge, and Morris, Skeffington, Langrishe, and others--Boyle Roche, the Usher-in-waiting. On Friday, we had Rowley, Charlemont--”

”Lord Charlemont,--did he dine with the Viceroy on Friday last?”

”Yes, sir; and it was the first time we have asked him since the Mutiny Bill!”

”This is indeed strange, Sam; I scarcely thought he was on such terms with the Court!”

”We forgive and forget, sir,--we forgive and forget,” said Sam, waving his hand with dignity.

”There was young Carew also.”