I was afraid that Lady Geraldine would feel the want of her butt; however, I found that Miss Tracey’s place was supplied by Captain Andrews, one of the Castle’s aides-de-camp; and when Captain Andrews was out of the way, Lord Kilrush and his brother O’Toole were good marks. High and mighty as these personages thought themselves, and respectfully, nay obsequiously, as they were treated by most others, to this lady their characters appeared only a good study; and to laugh at them seemed only a good practice.
“Perhaps, my lord,” said she to me, “you do not yet know my Lord O’Toole?”
“I have had the honour to be introduced to him.”
“That’s well; for he thinks that,
‘Not to know him, argues yourself unknown.’
But as your lordship is a stranger in this country, you may be pardoned; and I will make you better acquainted with him. I suppose you know there are many Tooles in Ireland; some very ancient, respectable, and useful: this, however, is but a mere political tool, and the worst of all tools, a cat’s paw. There’s one thing to the credit of these brothers, they agree vastly well; for one delights in being always on the stage, and the other always behind the scenes. These brothers, with Captain Andrews—I hope they are none of them within hearing—form a charming trio, all admirable in their way. My Lord O’Toole is—artifice without art. My Lord Kilrush—importance without power. And Captain Andrews—pliability without ease. Poor Andrews! he’s a defenceless animal—safe in impenetrable armour. Give him but time—as a man said, who once showed me a land-tortoise—give him but time to draw his head into his shell, and a broad-wheeled waggon may go over him without hurting him. Lord Glenthorn, did you ever observe Captain Andrews’s mode of conversation?”
“No; I never heard him converse.”
“Converse! nor I indeed; but you have heard him talk.” “I have heard him say—Very true—and Of course.”
“Lord Glenthorn is quite severe this evening,” said Mrs. O’Connor.
“But though your lordship,” continued Lady Geraldine, “may have observed Captain Andrews’s wonderful economy of words, do you know whence it arises? Perhaps you think from his perception of his own want of understanding.”