ertainly, never have offended.

Years ago, when to be a member of the House of Commons was to be (or to
deem oneself) a personage of great importance, the debates were
conducted with a keen eye to effect. Members who had a sense of beauty
made their speeches beautiful, and even those to whom it was denied did
their best. Grace of ample gesture was cultivated, and sonorous
elocution, and lucid ordering of ideas, and noble language. In fact,
there was a school of oratory. This is no mere superstition, bred of
man's innate tendency to exalt the past above the present. It is a fact
that can easily be verified through contemporary records. It is a fact
which I myself have verified in the House with my own eyes and ears.
More than once, I heard there--and it was a pleasure and privilege to
hear--a speech made by Sir William Harcourt. And from his speeches I
was able to deduce the manner of his coevals and his forerunners. Long
past his prime he was, and bearing up with very visible effort against
his years. An almost extinct volcano! But sufficient to imagination
these glimpses of the glow that had been, and the sight of these last
poor rivulets of the old lava. An almost extinct volcano, but majestic
among mole-hills! Assuredly, the old school was a fine one. It had its
faults, of course--floridness, pomposity, too much histrionism. It was,
indeed, very like the old school of acting, in its defects as in its
qualities. With all his defects, what a relief it is to see one of the
old actors among a cast of new ones! How he takes the stage, making
himself felt--and heard! How surely he achieves his effects in the
grand manner! Robustious? Yes. But it is better to exaggerate a style
than to have no style at all. That is what is the matter with these
others--these quiet, shifty, shamefaced others they have no style at
all. And as is the difference between the old actor and them, so,
precisely was the difference between Sir William Harcourt and the
modern members.

I do not desire the new actors to model themselves on the old, whose
manner is quite incongruous with the character of modern drama. All I
would have them do is to achieve the manner for which they are darkly
fumbling. Even so, I do not demand oratory of the modern senators.
Oratory I love, but I admit that the time for it is bygone. It belonged
to the age of port. On plenty of port the orator spoke, and on plenty
of port his audience listened to him. A diet-bound gene