- You know Gerald Fitzgibbon. Then you can imagine the style of his discourse. " (U7.797)
From Dictionary of National Biography ed. Sidney Lee, 2001:
Gerald Fitzgibbon (1837 - 1909) was Lord Justice of appeal in Ireland. He was born in Dublin. His father was Master in Chancery and a leading member of the Irish bar, and his brother Henry president of the Royal College of Surgeons.
Fitzgibbon became a classical scholar 1858 at Trinity, distinguished himself in classics, law, oratory and English composition. He was called to the Irish bar in 1860, became legal advisor to Dublin Castle (1876), solicitor general for Ireland in Lord Beaconsfield's government (1877), then was promoted to Lord Justice of Appeal (1878).
Outside of his profession as a judge, he was a member of the church of Ireland, a freemason (Trinity College lodge, 1876), chairman of the educational endowment in Ireland (1855-1897) and commissioner of national education.
He had a country home in Howth where George Salmon, John Visc. Morley, Mr. Arthur Balfour, Lord Roberts, Woleseley, and Lord Randolph Churchil were regular visitors.
He is buried in St Fintan in Howth and has a marble statue in St Patrick cathedral.
- He is sitting with a sweet thing in a child's frock, Myles Crawford said. Go on. Well?" (U7.800)
He closed his long thin lips an instant but, eager to be on, raised an outspanned hand to his spectacles and, with trembling thumb and ringfinger touching lightly the black rims, steadied them to a new focus.
In ferial tone he addressed J.J. O'Molloy:
- Taylor had come there, you must know, from a sick bed. That he had prepared his speech I do not believe for there was not even one shorthandwriter in the hall. His dark lean face had a growth of shaggy beard round it. He wore a loose neckcloth and altogether he looked (though he was not) a dying man.
His gaze turned at once but slowly from J.J. O'Molloy's towards Stephen's face and then bent at once to the ground, seeking. His unglazed linen collar appeared behind his bent head, soiled by his withering hair. Still seeking, he said:" (U7.804)
He raised his head firmly. His eyes bethought themselves once more. Witless shellfish swam in the gross lenses to and fro, seeking outlet." (U7.823)
- Mr chairman, ladies and gentlemen: Great was my admiration in listening to the remarks addressed to the youth of Ireland a moment since by my learned friend. It seemed to me that I had been transported into a country far away from this country, into an age remote from this age, that I stood in ancient Egypt and that I was listening to the speech of some highpriest of that land addressed to the youthful Moses." (U7.827)
- And it seemed to me that I heard the voice of that Egyptian highpriest raised in a tone of like haughtiness and like pride. I heard his words and their meaning was revealed to me." (U7.834)
It was revealed to me that those things are good which yet are corrupted which neither if they were supremely good nor unless they were good could be corrupted. Ah, curse you! That's saint Augustine." (U7.841)
Child, man, effigy.
By the Nilebank the babemaries kneel, cradle of bulrushes: a man supple in combat: stonehorned, stonebearded, heart of stone." (U7.851)
- But, ladies and gentlemen, had the youthful Moses listened to and accepted that view of life, had he bowed his head and bowed his will and bowed his spirit before that arrogant admonition he would never have brought the chosen people out of their house of bondage, nor followed the pillar of the cloud by day. He would never have spoken with the Eternal amid lightnings on Sinai's mountaintop nor ever have come down with the light of inspiration shining in his countenance and bearing in his arms the tables of the law, graven in the language of the outlaw.
He ceased and looked at them, enjoying silence." (U7.860)
- Gentlemen, Stephen said. As the next motion on the agenda paper may I suggest that the house do now adjourn?" (U7.884)
A contemporary PC caricatures the 'ligislative' abilities of the Irish such as Stephen displays.
- We will sternly refuse to partake of strong waters, will we not? Yes, we will not. By no manner of means.
Mr O'Madden Burke, following close, said with an ally's lunge of his umbrella:
- Lay on, Macduff!
—Chip of the old block! the editor cried, clapping Stephen on the shoulder. Let us go. Where are those blasted keys?
He fumbled in his pocket pulling out the crushed typesheets.
- Foot and mouth. I know. That'll be all right. That'll go in. Where are they? That's all right." (U7.893)