Dunbar Barton. Mr. Barton is--as he properly
boasted--the descendant of some of that good Protestant stock that, in
the days of the fight over the destruction of the Irish Parliament,
stood by the liberties of Ireland. He is a nephew of Mr. Plunket--he
inherits the talent which is traditional in the Plunket family, and is
said not to be without some of the national spirit that still hides
itself in odd nooks and corners of estranged Irish minds. But he has
none of the saving grace of his country or family. A solemn voice that
seems to come from the depths of some divine despair, and from the
recesses of his innermost organs, together with a certain funereal
aspect in the close-shaven face, gives him an air that suggests the
cypress and the cemetery. But with deadly want of humour, he spoke of
the possibility of his spending the remainder of a blameless life in
penal servitude, and was deeply wounded when the uproarious and
irreverent House refused to take the possibility seriously.
[Sidenote: Mr. Stansfeld.]
The following Friday was made memorable by a fine speech from Mr.
Stansfeld. Full of activity, with undimmed eye, with every mental
faculty keen and alert, with every lofty and generous aspiration as
fresh as in the days of hot and perilous youth, Mr.
Pages:
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185