f Herodotus, "I am too old, oh King, and
too inactive; so bid thou one of the younger men here to do these
things." He very soon, however, recovered elasticity of mind and body
when the load of office was removed from his shoulders, and "inactive"
was the last epithet which could ever be applied to Lord Cromer. He
began to attend the House of Lords, but, like a wise man, he was in no
hurry to speak there till he had grown accustomed to the tone of the
place. His earliest utterance (I may note the date, February 6th, 1908)
we listened to with equal respect and curiosity; this was a new element
from which much enjoyment might be expected.

This maiden speech was not long, but it produced a very happy
impression. The subject was the Anglo-Russian Convention, of which the
orator cordially approved, and I recall that a certain sensation was
caused by Lord Cromer's dwelling on the dangers of the Pan-Islamite
intrigues in Egypt. This is the sort of thing that the House of Lords
enjoys--a man of special knowledge speaking, almost confidentially, of
matters within his professional competency. During that year and the
next Lord Cromer spoke with increasing frequency. There were great
differences of opinion with regard to his efficiency in Parliament. I
may acknowledge that I was not an unmeasured admirer of his oratory.
When he rose from his seat on the Cross-bench, and advanced towards the
table, with a fine gesture of his leonine head, sympathy was always
mingled with respect. His independence and his honesty were patent, and
his slight air of authority satisfactory. His public voice was not
unpleasing, but when he was tired it became a little veiled, and he had
the sad trick of dropping it at the end of his sentences. I confess that
I sometimes found it difficult to follow what he was saying, and I do
not think that he understood how to fill a large space with his voice.
He spoke as a man accustomed to wind up the debates of a council sitting
round a table, rather than as a senator addressing the benches of
Parliament.

He was interested in the art of eloquence, and fond of criticising in
private the methods of other speakers. He had a poor opinion of much
studied oratory, and used to declare that no one had ever convinced him
by merely felicitous diction. Perhaps he did not sufficiently realise
that his own strength of purpose offered rather a granitic surface to
persuasion. But no doubt he was right in saying that, coming a