MR. LABOUCHERE AS A JOURNALIST
BY MR. R. BENNETT, EDITOR OF "TRUTH"
Mr. Labouchere went into newspaper work with all the best
qualifications that a journalist can have, and with many that no
other journalist has ever had a chance of possessing. He had an
inborn gift for writing, using his pen by sheer force of natural
impulse. He took a lively and unfailing interest in all the doings,
sayings, and thoughts of his fellow creatures, while looking at all
human affairs with critical but dispassionate detachment. His
reflections, if not very profound, were always acute, novel, and
humorous; and he had a method of expression, whether in speech or
writing, peculiarly his own--pithy, witty, and unconventional. He
was a great reader; he was at home in French, German, and Italian; he
had acquired a smattering of the classics at Eton and Cambridge; and
he had a retentive memory. When he first took up journalism he was
nearly forty, and he had had an unrivalled experience of all phases
of life, extending from Jerusalem to Mexico. Among other things, he
had spent ten years as an attaché in six or eight different capitals;
he had gambled in nearly every casino in Europe; he had travelled
with a circus in America; he had run a theatre in London; he had sat
in the House of Commons; he had dabbled in finance in the city. Add
to all this that he had a considerable aptitude for business, as for
most other things; lastly that he was never under any {492}
obligation to write a line except to please himself; and it is not
surprising that he made a distinguished mark in the world of
journalism. It is perhaps not too much to say that the best work of
his life was done as a journalist.
Yet he seems to have tumbled into this work quite accidentally, and
in the most unusual fashion. He began as a newspaper proprietor; he
subsequently became an editor; and he ended as a casual unpaid
contributor. This strange inversion of the normal career of a
successful journalist is in keeping with everything else in his life
and character. The story of his proprietorship of the _Daily News_
and of his association with Edmund Yates on the _World_ has been told
elsewhere in this book. His work on those papers, extending over
seven years, had given Mr. Labouchere a useful and varied experience
of very different classes of journalism when he decided, in 1876, to
start a journal of his own. There had been no quarrel of any kind
between him and Yates, and it was not in any spirit of antagonism to
the proprietor of the _World_ that he decided to make his own paper
one of the same type. At that date there was rather a reaction
against the solidity and stolidity of the older journalism, and out
of it had sprung a class of journals animated by a lighter spirit,
and handling both men and things in a free and easy style. _Vanity
Fair_ and the _World_ had been very successful in this line, and
their spirit appealed to Mr. Labouchere, who detested pretentiousness
in every shape, and to the end of his days never ceased to regard as
a ridiculous object the journalist who takes himself seriously.
"What is _Truth_?" asked some successor of jesting Pilate, who had
heard of the title proposed for the new paper. "Another and a better
_World_," replied Labouchere; and the quip no doubt expressed
correctly what he had in his mind. The spirit in which he proposed
to endow London with a new journal is perhaps even better shown in
the title originally projected for this organ, which was, not
"Truth," but "The Lyre." It was in deference to the opinion of {493}
Horace Voules that Mr. Labouchere consented to abandon "The Lyre" in
favour of "Truth." Voules's business instinct, which was highly
developed, warned him that it is better to assume a virtue if you
have it not. No doubt he was right. Nobody, so far as I know, has
yet had the courage to start a paper called "The Lyre," but Mr.
Labouchere would have done it had he been left to himself.
The mention of Voules reminds one that Mr. Labouchere's first step
when he had decided upon his new venture was to find a competent
practical journalist to undertake the "donkey work." In a lucky
moment he fell upon Horace St. George Voules, who eventually became
his _alter ego_ in _Truth_ office. Horace Voules himself was a man
of very remarkable personality and abilities. He was the son of a
well-known solicitor at Windsor, who, by a strange freak of fortune,
was the local Tory election agent, and as such had been instrumental
in unseating Mr. Labouchere when he was returned for that borough.
While still only a boy Voules had formed an ambition to become a
journalist, and, by way of beginning at the beginning, had entered
the great printing and publishing house of Cassell, Fetter, and
Galpin as a printer's apprentice. He made his way upward with
extraordinary ability, and the partners formed such a high opinion of
him that when, in 1868, they started the _Echo_--the first London
halfpenny paper--they put Voules in as business manager. He was then
only four-and-twenty. He continued to manage the _Echo_ with
remarkable success till the summer of 1876, when it was acquired by
the late Mr. Passmore Edwards, and Voules resigned. He went away to
take a holiday, and a few weeks later received a letter from Mr.
Labouchere asking him to come and see him. This was the beginning of
an intimate association which lasted till Voules's death in 1909. An
agreement was entered into under which Voules was to be "manager" of
_Truth_ at a very modest salary, though with a percentage of the
profits which ultimately proved very valuable; and this agreement was
the only one {494} ever concluded between the proprietor and his
second-in-command, although for the last twenty-five years of
Voules's life the whole editorial and financial control of the paper
was in his hands alone. Another point of interest is that to meet
the expenses of the new paper Mr. Labouchere opened a special account
with his bankers and paid into it the sum of £1000. Some time later,
when the growth of the business necessitated more capital, this sum
was increased to £1500; but for the first few years £1000 was the
whole of the capital that Mr. Labouchere invested in his venture, and
practically it was never touched; that is to say, the account which
he opened in 1876 with that credit remained with at least that amount
to its credit until he sold the paper in 1910. From those details it
may be gathered that neither the proprietor nor his manager regarded
themselves as entering upon an enterprise of any great pith or
moment, or imagined that they were founding a journal which would
become famous over the whole world. It certainly did not occur to
Horace Voules, then an ambitious and remarkably successful young man
of thirty-two, that in becoming "manager" of this undertaking at £600
a year he was taking a position that would occupy him for the rest of
his days.
In such circumstances the first number of _Truth_ made its appearance
in the first week of 1877. It was a decided success, as success in
that class of journals was reckoned at that date, though the sale of
the first number was only a fraction of the figures reached fifteen
or twenty years later. What was of more consequence, and perhaps
more surprising, the second and following numbers were equally
successful; for the production of a new journal is rather like the
production of a new play--a full and enthusiastic house on the first
night does not necessarily mean a long run. Horace Voules was fond
of boasting that _Truth_ had paid its way from the first, and some of
the credit of that result was undoubtedly due to his great business
abilities. Mr. Labouchere had not gone into the venture with any
idea of making money. {495} He knew the history of the early
difficulties of the _World_, which have been referred to in an
earlier chapter of this volume, and it was probably an agreeable
surprise to him that he was not called upon to meet a loss on the
first few months' working of _Truth_. In an interview which appeared
in one of the monthly magazines a few years ago, Voules described the
scepticism with which his chief received the balance-sheet presented
to him at the end of the first six months. It appeared to Labouchere
too good to be true, and he exercised his ingenuity in attempts to
demolish it. In later years his attitude towards balance-sheets was
very different.
The combination of Labouchere and Voules was a very powerful one.
Few newspapers have ever had a more remarkable pair of brains and
personalities behind them--the one acute, ready-witted, audacious,
irresponsible, intent only upon amusing himself and amusing his
readers; the other long-headed, business-like, strenuous, and
pushful, intent only upon making money. The time came when _Truth_
owed everything to the guidance and inspiration of Horace Voules; but
at the start it was Mr. Labouchere who made the paper. This can
easily be seen on looking back to the files of the journal during the
first two or three years of its existence. There was nothing very
striking or sensational in the matter of its contents; in form and
substance it did not differ materially from the journals of the same
class that had preceded and followed it. But the hand and spirit of
Labouchere were all over it, and gave it a character and
individuality which were bound to make the fortune of any journal.
His literary activity at this period was amazing. As Voules used to
say, he was exactly like a child with a new toy; and after playing
with many toys he had found the one which exactly suited him, for the
handling of a pen was his greatest joy. "He would have written the
whole paper if he could," said Voules. In point of fact for a time
he did write a considerable part of it every week. He poured out
amusing {496} paragraphic commentaries on every subject of the moment
that interested him, and flooded the paper with droll reminiscences
of his own adventures and the innumerable distinguished people whom
he had met in all parts of the world. He "did" the dramatic
criticism, and he never did anything better; in this owing much, no
doubt, to his personal experience as a theatrical manager. He wrote
every week a "City" article--a very unconventional kind of City
article, quite unlike any product of financial journalism before or
since. It broke out occasionally in the most unexpected directions;
for example, one finds an irresistibly comic account of his
experiences among brigands in Mexico cropping up in a survey of the
financial position of that country. Starting on another occasion to
discuss the merits of Greek stocks, he lapses into a disquisition
upon the character of the modern Greeks, especially the peasantry,
illuminated by reminiscences of his travels in their country. One of
the funniest things he ever wrote--a detailed account of his journey
through the Holy Land with the Rev. J. M. Bellew--made its appearance
as an integral part of a critique of some new play. The connecting
link between the two things was that Mr. Bellew's son, the late Mr.
Kyrle Bellew, had made his debut on that first night. It is only
when a man writes for his own paper that he can do this sort of
thing; what would be the emotions of any normal editor on receiving
from his dramatic critic a three-column narrative of a journey in
Palestine as part of a notice of Mr. Bernard Shaw's last masterpiece!
It was the spontaneity, this unexpectedness, the evident absence of
all premeditation or effort, as well as a sort of irresponsible
indifference to the ostensible business of the moment, that gave such
a piquancy to Mr. Labouchere's writing, as it did to his
conversation. It was something quite new in journalism, and it
remains to this moment absolutely unique.
Another characteristic of Mr. Labouchere's which gave a peculiar
flavour to _Truth_ was his frankness and disregard for {497} the
_convenances_ in speaking about his contemporaries. He had no taste
for mere tittle-tattle and scandal-mongering in print. Prying into
the private life of well-known people was rather a weakness of the
"society journals" of the day, among which _Truth_ was classed, and
Mr. Labouchere never favoured it. But it must be admitted that in
private conversation he was an inveterate gossip, always well-posted
in whatever talk was current to the discredit of anybody sufficiently
known to be talked about; and when he found occasion to speak about
any person in print, all that he knew about that person was apt to
come out, with precisely the same unconventional frankness that
distinguished his own personal confessions. Added to this he was not
only contemptuous of pretence, sham, and humbug in every shape,
hating "snobbism" in its widest sense as heartily as Thackeray
himself, but he was hopelessly devoid of the spirit of reverence,
even in regard to matters that usually receive reverence on their
merits. Nothing was sacred to him. He seemed to discover
instinctively the seamy side of what other people admire, and to find
a delight in calling attention to it; and this mischievous habit of
mind displayed itself in his handling of men as well as things.
Introduced into journalism, and fortified with an extensive knowledge
of life picked up in the diplomatic service, the theatrical world and
the city, and in the ordinary social intercourse of a man of good
family related on all sides to distinguished people, Mr. Labouchere's
natural bent of mind and freedom of speech led to the embellishment
of _Truth_ almost every week with candid observations upon
contemporary personages, which might be open to criticism on the
score of taste, but which made extremely entertaining reading.
Inevitably his pen got him into trouble. The only wonder is that the
trouble was not more serious, and for this it may be safely assumed
that Mr. Labouchere was much indebted to Mr. Horace Voules. After a
very few weeks working together, the two men became very intimate
friends, {498} and Mr. Labouchere, who rarely erred in his reading of
men, acquired a great respect for Voules's judgment, so much so that,
in characteristic fashion, he speedily turned over to his friend all
sorts of business quite unrelated to _Truth_. Voules himself was
essentially a fighting man, as he showed when he obtained control of
_Truth_, but he had the mind of a lawyer as well as a man of
business, and he had--though it may sound paradoxical--a much greater
interest in the profit of the paper than the proprietor himself.
From the first, although nominally only concerned with the commercial
side of _Truth_, he read in proof every line of the paper, and he was
not the man to allow the proprietor or anybody else to tumble
accidentally into an indefensible libel action. He used to say that
he had often saved his chief from that fate, and no one who knew them
both would doubt him. Another thing which often saved Mr. Labouchere
was his invariable readiness to apologise to anybody whom he had
unintentionally annoyed or injured. He did so on many occasions in
the early years of _Truth_, and he would always do it if he was
approached in the right way. Not only this, but if he was once
persuaded that he had been too hard on a man, or that what he had
intended as mere play had seriously wounded the subject of his
playfulness, he would often try afterwards to make amends. In more
than one instance he became quite friendly with people whom he had
more or less insulted before he knew them. For better or worse, it
was one of the cardinal traits of Mr. Labouchere's character that he
was incapable of strong emotion, and, among others, of personal
malice. In one or two instances he conceived rather strong
antipathies to individuals--not without reason--but it was entirely
foreign to his nature to hurt a man for the sake of hurting him; and
a most remarkable thing about him was that while he would strenuously
attack a man's conduct or ridicule unmercifully his speech or
actions, he was quite capable of meeting the same man in a perfectly
friendly spirit, and discussing what had been done on one side and
{499} said on the other, not only without heat, but with a sincere
sympathy for the victim of his pen. This trait was essential in his
character--a result of that philosophic interest in his fellow
creatures which caused him to look at all of them alike without any
conventional bias in favour of one mode of life or action rather than
another. If he had encountered a burglar in his house already loaded
with valuables, his first impulse would have been, not to call the
police, but to engage the intruder in conversation, and to learn from
him something of the habits of burglars, the latest and most
scientific methods of burgling, the average profits of the business,
and so forth. He would have been delighted to assist his new
acquaintance with suggestions for his future guidance in his
profession, and to point out to him how he might have avoided the
mistake which had on this occasion led to his being caught in the
act. In all this he would not by any means have lost sight of his
property; on the contrary, the whole force of his intellect would
have been surreptitiously occupied with the problem of recovering it
with the least amount of inconvenience to his friend and himself. He
would have manœuvred to bring off a deal. If by sweet
reasonableness he could have persuaded the burglar to give up the
"swag," he would have been delighted to hand him a sovereign or two,
cheer him with refreshment, shake hands, and wish him better luck
next time; and he would have related the whole story in the next
week's _Truth_ with infinite humour and profound satisfaction.
This is scarcely an effort of imagination. Something very similar
happened in _Truth_ office in the 'nineties long after Mr. Labouchere
had ceased to take any active interest in his paper. A money-lender
who had been severely, but not unjustly, handled in _Truth_, insisted
upon seeing Mr. Labouchere personally. By that time Horace Voules
was the only person who ever saw anybody who had business with the
editor, but he happened to be away, and Labouchere consented to see
the man. The money-lender arrived in a {500} most truculent mood;
but he was quickly disarmed by Labouchere's ignorance--perfectly
genuine--of the nature of his grievance, and beguiled into telling
his story with artless confidence. What threatened at first to be a
heated wrangle developed into a friendly interchange of views, in
which Mr. Labouchere, showing a keen scientific interest in
money-lending operations, explained to his visitor exactly where he
was at fault in the management of his business, and gave him a few
practical hints which might assist him to make larger profits without
exposing himself to unfavourable remark. The man seemed extremely
pleased with the valuable advice he received, and it was his own
fault if he did not depart very much the wiser for the interview.
When Mr. Labouchere was writing at large in the early days of
_Truth_, he made a great many people extremely angry, and some never
forgave him. But to be angry with him if you met him face to face
was only possible for the very stupid. Some few years ago the late
Mr. John Kensit made an unsuccessful application to the High Court to
commit the proprietor of _Truth_ for contempt. Considering all that
had been said about him in the paper, he had considerable ground for
not loving its proprietor, even if he had been aware, which he was
not, that Mr. Labouchere had never had a hand in what had been said
about him. But they sat next to one another in the well of the court
during the hearing of the motion, and by the time the case was on
they were chatting and laughing together like old friends.
"Good-bye, Mr. Labouchere, said the Protestant champion at the end of
the proceedings. "This has been quite a pleasant meeting." "I hope
you have enjoyed it as much as I have," answered Labby. "I am sorry
that you have got to pay for it." And they shook hands
affectionately.
On the other hand, Mr. Labouchere had a certain combativeness of
disposition, and he was from the first bent upon using _Truth_ for
the exposure of abuses and frauds on the public. Consequently, in a
certain number of cases he {501} deliberately laid himself out to
attack individuals, regardless of the penalties of the law of libel.
His journal had not been in existence many months before an action
was commenced by Mr. Robertson, the manager of the Royal Aquarium at
Westminster. Mr. Labouchere was a director of the company owning
that place, and he wrote very fully and frankly about its affairs in
_Truth_--in particular a humorous account in his best manner, of an
altercation between Robertson and himself in the fair at Boulogne.
The circumstances of the action are of no interest now; but the case
is memorable as the first of the long series of libel actions that
_Truth_ has successfully defended in the course of its existence, and
further as the occasion of one of the earliest forensic successes of
Charles Russell, afterwards Lord Russell of Killowen, and an intimate
friend of Mr. Labouchere's for the rest of his life. Russell had not
at that time taken silk, and was little known, but Mr. George Lewis
(as he then was) and Mr. Labouchere had sufficient confidences in his
abilities to brief him without a leader, and the experiment was fully
justified by the result. The next legal proceeding in which Mr.
Labouchere involved himself was a _cause célèbre_ of the first
dimensions--his prosecution by the proprietor of the _Daily
Telegraph_ on account of a series of persistent and, it must be
confessed, somewhat vicious attacks upon the management of that
journal. Mr. Labouchere elected to defend himself, and he has rarely
acquitted himself in public with more address than he did on that
occasion, though he had a good deal of useful assistance from the
late Lord Justice Bowen, then a stuff gowns-man, who was briefed for
the printers of the paper. There is no occasion at this date to
revive other circumstances of this personal encounter between two
eminent representatives of journalism. The jury disagreed, the case
was not brought to trial again, and the hatchet was buried. Mr.
Labouchere was released on his own recognisances, and many years
later he used to be fond of explaining that he was still in that
condition. Apparently he remained in it till his death.
{502}
One other libel case of Mr. Labouchere's early journalistic days may
be recalled for the sake of the very characteristic accident out of
which it arose. Mr. Labouchere had written something extremely
dangerous. Voules noted it on the proof, and after a consultation
between them Mr. Labouchere agreed to take the passage out. He
accordingly drew his pen through two or three of the incriminating
lines, or rather he attempted to do so; but his pen always worked in
rather an erratic way, and the marks he made on the proof were as
much under the words as through them. The consequence was that the
printer misunderstood the intention, and the libellous passage which
had alarmed Voules not only appeared in the paper, but appeared with
the additional emphasis of italics! This was one of the accidents
which had to be repaired with an apology, though this did not prevent
the issue of a writ. If any other actions for libel were commenced
in the early years of Mr. Labouchere's editorship they did not lead
to serious fighting, and there was nothing in them worth recalling
now. But he certainly contrived in the course of three or four years
to give his paper a great reputation for courageous plain speaking,
and to convey the impression that its proprietor was a dangerous man
to fall foul of, and a difficult man to tackle successfully.
As for his work as an editor during that time, he seems to have taken
it very easily after the first few weeks. "I will give him six
months," Edmund Yates was reported to have said when his friend was
beginning with such a big splash; and the thought was not begotten of
a wish, but of Yates's knowledge of his late contributor. The fatal
weakness of Mr. Labouchere's character--certainly during the second
forty years of his life, and probably during the first forty--was
incapacity for sustained effort. He quickly grew tired of everything
he took in hand, and he hated drudgery and routine work. Horace
Voules used to relate his amazement at the zest with which his chief,
at the first start, threw himself into the work of reading copy and
proofs, and criticising {503} and planning improvements in the paper
when it was produced; and his equal amazement at the process by which
such editorial functions were one by one delegated to the so-called
"manager," never again to be resumed. The same story is told by
others who were familiar with the inside of _Truth_ office during its
early days. From the first Voules's position was that of an
assistant-editor, and in the course of a year or two he became very
much more of an editor than an assistant, while the editor lapsed
into the position of an adviser and an indefatigable contributor. It
must have been in 1878 or 1879 that Voules went away for a holiday on
the Continent, and received a letter in which Mr. Labouchere informed
him that there was very little going on, and added, "I do not think I
shall bring the paper out next week." Voules believed him to be
perfectly capable of this enormity, and the mere thought of it filled
him with such dismay that he came back to London by the next train.
"You need not have worried yourself so about it," said Mr. Labouchere
when his colleague reached the office. "Probably I should have
brought the paper out all right." But, unlike his employer, Voules
was very given to worrying himself, and this incident worried him so
much that he never left the proprietor in charge of his own paper
again. At holiday times he used always to take a house within easy
reach of London, and it is a fact that for fourteen or fifteen years,
until he had his first bad illness, he never missed seeing _Truth_ to
press himself. This little incident, so very characteristic of Mr.
Labouchere, at least serves to justify the observation that he soon
learned to take his editorial functions lightly; and it shows the
waning of the zest with which he had taken up the "new toy" a year or
two previously.
Until the general election of 1880, Mr. Labouchere remained regular
in his attendance at the office, and actively interested in the
affairs of his journal if his principal work for it was purely
literary. But after he was returned for Northampton and began to
make a figure in Parliament, which {504} he did almost from the
first, _Truth_ began to have a secondary place in his affections. In
the course of the next year or two he seems to have gradually
relinquished the entire editorial control into Voules's hands. He
ceased to supply dramatic criticism, and to write with any regularity
on city matters. On the other hand, he naturally began to write
regularly on politics, which up to that time he had done only now and
then and without expressing any strong opinions. At that date the
connection between the Press and Parliament was much less intimate
than it has since become. The journalistic M.P., so familiar a
figure in recent years, was virtually unknown. There were only two
or three newspaper proprietors in the House of Commons; none in the
House of Lords. The descriptive reporter had not yet made his
appearance in the Press Gallery; the gentlemen there were shorthand
writers only. The Lobby correspondent had not risen to that public
importance for which he was destined. Mr. Labouchere consequently
had the field very much to himself as a parliamentary journalist.
Perhaps he did not make as much use of the opportunity as he would
have done three or four years earlier, when journalism for its own
sake had such a hold upon his affections. He was always extremely
averse to using his parliamentary position for the advantage of his
own paper; indeed, so far did he carry this feeling that in later
years when any matter was under ventilation in _Truth_, which
naturally furnished matter for the interrogation of a Minister, it
was most difficult to obtain his assistance, and quite impossible to
persuade him to ask a question himself. If he consented to give his
help, he nearly always got a friend to put the question down. From
first to last--to the intense annoyance of Horace Voules--his
disposition was always to use his own journal as an aid to his
schemes and ambitions in Parliament, never his parliamentary position
for the advantage of his journal.
Nevertheless, the reputation that he speedily made for himself in the
House of Commons, his novel and individual {505} style of handling
politics and politicians--friends and foes alike--and the audacity of
the opinions which he was always delivering with an air "that was
childlike and bland," necessarily had their effect upon the paper
that he owned and wrote for. As the organ of a rising M.P.,
constantly before the public, and a mouthpiece of advanced
Radicalism, _Truth_ gained more than it lost by the cessation of Mr.
Labouchere's exuberant literary activity. The circulation of the
paper, which had not increased to any great extent between 1877 and
1880, now began to display considerable buoyancy. At the same time
Horace Voules was beginning to make his hand felt. He enlisted many
useful recruits to fill the space left vacant by Mr. Labouchere. In
particular he developed the paper on the financial side, having a
strong fancy, as well as great aptitude, for that line of journalism.
In fact he may be considered a pioneer in it, for at that time there
was not a single financial daily paper in London, and the financial
articles in the general daily Press were framed in a very bald and
perfunctory style. With the assistance of Mr. L. Brousson, who wrote
for _Truth_ with most valuable results for nearly twenty years under
the pseudonym of "Moses Moss," Voules made the paper as strong in
finance as Mr. Labouchere made it in politics, and very much more
popular. Voules was a man of great enterprise, courage, and
resource, a sound judge of "what the public wants," and at the same
time a born fighter. He wrote little himself, but he had a good eye
for literary ability in others--at any rate the kind of ability that
he needed for his own purpose. Following up the lead which Mr.
Labouchere had given in attacking frauds and abuses, he made during
the 'eighties several big journalistic coups by the exposure of
financial swindles. From this he passed on to the fertile field of
charity. By this time he had got together a fairly complete and
competent staff for dealing with such matters. He made a thorough
investigation of every subject he dealt with. He interviewed
witnesses himself; he inspired every line that {506} was written for
publication. Thus fortified, he threw down the gauntlet to one
swindler after another. Many were routed and driven out of the field
by the mere force of the case made against them in _Truth_. Others,
who defended themselves by proceedings for libel, were met and
overthrown one after another in the Law Courts. The story of all
these personal encounters, which lasted almost continuously for ten
or twelve years, would fill a volume--and a volume without any
parallel in the history of journalism. The work ended only because
there was no more to be done. There was no game left worth powder
and shot. Horace Voules had simply cleared out this particular
field. Nor was his activity confined to any one field. The public
services--particularly the Army--the Church, the administration of
justice, especially by justices of the peace, and indeed almost every
sphere of human activity where there was any wrong or misconduct that
required castigation, brought perennial supplies of grist to the
journalistic mill over which Horace Voules ruled in Carteret Street.
Thus it came about that towards the end of the last century _Truth_
had become a journal with a unique record, an influence that was
felt--mostly for good--all over the English-speaking world, and
incidentally a very valuable property. Before the end of the
'eighties it must have begun to yield Mr. Labouchere--a rich man
independently of it--a larger income than would have sufficed for all
his requirements, which were never extravagant. The attitude of the
parent towards his bantling, which had grown in such an unexpected
fashion, was very much like his attitude towards everything else that
happened to him in life. If he took any pride in his offspring, he
did not manifest it openly; in a general way he betrayed no concern
in its performances. When he visited the office, which he usually
did for an hour or two on Monday and Tuesday mornings on his way to
the House of Commons, it was only to correct the proofs of his own
contributions--by this time almost entirely confined {507} to
politics, except when he went abroad in the autumn--to consume a
frugal lunch, and to chat about anything but the business of his
paper with anybody whom he could find to talk to.
A personal reminiscence of this period will show how strangely
uninterested he was in the affairs of the paper which he was supposed
by the public to direct. In the spring of 1893, Horace Voules had a
bad illness, the first of many, and as he kept the whole business of
the office in his hands the situation was rather serious. I went
down to see him at Brighton, where he lived for the last twenty years
of his life, and heard from his doctor that if he ever came back at
all it could not be for many weeks. On returning to town I went
straight to the House of Commons and reported this alarming
intelligence to Mr. Labouchere. If I had reported it to the Speaker
he could not have manifested less concern. What chiefly interested
Mr. Labouchere was the nature and treatment of Voules's ailment; he
was always prepared to give advice, publicly or privately, on the
preservation of health. "You know Voules eats a great deal too
much," he said, which was no doubt true. "His doctor should do so
and so. I will write to him at once." I suggested to him that it
might be more useful if he would write something for _Truth_, as we
had not an editorial article in sight for next week. "You can do
very well for once without an article, can't you?" was the staggering
reply. I endeavoured to convey to him that there was a great deal of
work at the office which somebody would have to do in Voules's
absence, among other things about fifty letters a day requiring to be
attended to. "I should not bother myself about answering letters if
I were you," said my employer. This did not surprise me so much, for
I had previously heard from Voules of our proprietor's golden rule
for dealing with correspondence: "I never knew a letter yet, Voules,
which would not answer itself if you left it alone for two months."
It did not take many minutes' conversation to show that the editor
was {508} quite the last person from whom any assistance was likely
to be obtained in carrying on the paper in the emergency that had
arisen; at the same time I remember that we had a very interesting
talk about the Home Rule Bill before I left him. I wondered
afterwards what he would have said if I had written to him in his own
words to Voules, "I don't think I shall bring the paper out next
week." Probably it would not have disturbed him seriously. It
should be added that he did write to Voules as he had promised--a
very kind, sympathetic letter, in which he begged Voules above all
things not to hurry back, and assured him that everything would go on
all right in his absence. I forget whether he said that he would see
to that, but it is quite possible that he did. It is a fact that the
following week--the first in which Voules had been absent for about
fifteen years--Mr. Labouchere also omitted his customary visit to the
office on a Monday morning. I suppose he thought that as Voules was
away I should not have much time to talk to him.
To those who were behind the scenes there was something ludicrous and
something supremely "Laboucherean" in the contrast between this airy
indifference to the fortunes of his journal, and the public
conception of the proprietor as an indefatigable editor personally
inspiring and directing all its performances. Possibly it amused Mr.
Labouchere himself, but far more probably he never gave it a thought,
for nothing in his life that appeared to other people abnormal ever
presented itself in that light to him. To any one who knows the
_laissez-aller_ spirit in which he treated every affair of life, it
cannot cause the slightest surprise that he allowed himself to drift
into a position which was, on the face of it, somewhat equivocal.
The best evidence of the view that he himself took of this anomalous
position is afforded by the way it came to an end. Horace Voules
chafed for a long time under his own relation to the titular editor,
and it is really more difficult to understand his long acceptance of
this position than Mr. Labouchere's failure to do anything towards
{509} altering it. The explanation in his case, no doubt, is that
with the growth of the profits of the business he gradually came into
a very handsome income, and he was a man who valued this a good deal
more than personal glory. But he certainly felt aggrieved, as most
men would, that so much of the credit of his work should go to
another, and what perhaps annoyed him more was Mr. Labouchere's
characteristic indifference to everything that was done in his name.
Out of this there grew up a coolness between them, and at last Voules
openly kicked. The moment the question of the editorship was raised
in this way, Mr. Labouchere instantly conceded it, as Voules might
have known he would. "My dear Voules," he said, in mild surprise.
"_I_ don't want to be the editor. You can call yourself the editor
if you like." In his own mind he probably said, "If you attach any
value to such an absurd trifle, why, in the name of wonder, did you
not say so before?" In this characteristic fashion, Mr. Labouchere
divested himself of the last rags of editorship. Voules recounted
the conversation to me immediately after it took place. I cannot fix
the date precisely, but it was probably in 1897 or 1898.
There remains little to be related of Mr. Labouchere's career as a
journalist. But it may assist the comprehension of what appears
difficult to understand, in his relation to the real editorship of
his paper during so many years, to refer to what passed between him
and Voules on a lamentable occasion in 1902. At that time certain
unfortunate circumstances had come to light which made it impossible
that Mr. Brousson should remain on the staff of _Truth_, or that
Horace Voules should continue in the formal position of editor; I
trust I may be forgiven for referring in mere detail to the
indiscretion of an old and dear friend and the sad end of a brilliant
career. Mr. Labouchere, to whom the situation must have been as
painful as to anybody, took counsel with Sir George Lewis, as a
friend of both parties, and between them they excogitated an
announcement for publication to {510} the effect that Mr. Voules had
resigned the editorship of _Truth_, but would remain associated with
the paper. It was the least that could have been announced under the
circumstances, but naturally poor Voules fought hard against it, and
a warm debate took place at Sir George Lewis's office. Voules wanted
to know who was to be appointed editor, and in what capacity he
himself was to be "associated with the paper." He declined to submit
to the humiliation of having to serve under one of his own
subordinates. Mr. Labouchere told him that he did not see the
necessity of appointing another editor. "You can't seriously propose
that the paper is to be carried on without an editor," said Voules.
"My dear Voules," replied the proprietor, "I have now been connected
with newspapers over forty years, and I have never yet discovered
what an editor is. If you like, I will resume the editorship, but it
seems to me quite unnecessary." So little did Voules understand his
old friend even at that date that he came to me at the end of the
interview in a terrible state of agitation, convinced that Labouchere
was playing with him, and that he and I were to change places.
Labouchere was, of course, perfectly serious, and for the next seven
years _Truth_ remained without an editor. I suppose that in all his
life Mr. Labouchere never did a more extraordinary thing than this,
judging by what would be considered ordinary conduct for a man in his
position in such a case. Yet surely the extraordinary course which
he took is an example of the way in which his habit of looking at the
essential things in life, and snapping his fingers at conventions and
traditions, guided him to the best possible solution of a serious
difficulty. He regarded it as essential that Voules should not be
formally and officially the man in control of the paper. He regarded
it as equally essential--but how few would have done so!--that the
man who had served him so well and honourably for five-and-twenty
years should not be cast out to end his days in disgrace. So he
said: "I will have no editor in future. I see no necessity {511} for
it. Manage as best you can without one!" Is not this really a
stroke of genius, seeing that it is a solution of the difficulty that
no one else would ever have dreamed of, that it is so perfectly
simple, and that it effected everything that was really necessary?
It also becomes easier, I think, after this to understand how Mr.
Labouchere had previously allowed his paper to go on for about
seventeen years under the editorship of its business "manager"
without suspecting that there was anything anomalous in this
arrangement until his manager surprised him by protesting against it.
I feel that I cannot close this narrative of Mr. Labouchere's
relations with _Truth_ without a reference to the termination of his
sole proprietorship of that journal, for it was very characteristic
of him. Slight as was the interest that he evinced in his property
in his later years, he never seemed desirous of parting with it,
naming a prohibitive price when any one offered to buy it, as many
did, including Horace Voules. When, after poor Voules's death in
1909, I myself pressed him to turn his proprietorship into a company,
he politely but firmly declined, observing that he distrusted boards,
and had always believed in finding a man who can manage your business
for you and leaving him to do it. Undoubtedly that was the principle
on which he had conducted many of his affairs. But in the end I
ventured to suggest to him that it would be a great kindness to me
and other members of his staff, who had been connected with the paper
for many years, if he could see his way to put the proprietorship on
a permanent footing, and save us from the possible results of a sale
of the paper to the first bidder in the event of his predeceasing us.
His response was instantaneous and most sympathetic. He practically
offered me an option on the paper at half the price he had asked
Voules a few years previously, and interested himself warmly in
explaining to me how I was to turn this opportunity to the best
advantage. When the proposed deal did not promise to come off very
speedily, he finally said that he would waive {512} his objections to
converting himself into a mere shareholder, and leave us to form a
company, taking from him or placing with others such shares as we
could. So ended Mr. Labouchere's proprietorship of _Truth_--in an
act of pure kindness of heart. It is an exact parallel to his
easy-going abdication of the editorship at the first hint from Voules
that the existing position was rather hard on him.
Mr. Labouchere was a man of most extraordinary character. "He was an
extraordinary person!" is the exclamation that one has heard a
hundred times rising involuntarily to the lips of those who knew him
well. The story of his connection with journalism is an
extraordinary one, but as loosely sketched in the foregoing
reminiscences it can give but an inadequate impression of what was
most remarkable about him. This would be equally true of any mere
narrative of the events of his career, or any collection of his
disjointed utterances. In writing of him one is always in danger of
conveying the impression that he was a mere eccentric or freak. In
reality he was something very much more. Among other things he was
one of the most prolific and spontaneous writers that ever lived, and
everything that he wrote, however trivial the subject, bore some mark
of his own unique personality. His love of his pen was perhaps his
most vital characteristic; it resembled, indeed, his love of his
cigarette, and the two affections always came into play
simultaneously. He would take up a pen anywhere, and commit his
thoughts to paper without regard to external circumstances--during a
debate in the House of Commons, during a children's party in Old
Palace Yard, in a public room of an hotel. When abroad on his
holidays he used to write contributions to _Truth_ as regularly as if
he were under contract to supply so much copy each week--evidently
writing purely as a pleasure. Probably Mr. Labouchere is the only
man who ever wrote for publication, systematically and voluminously,
without ever being paid for what he wrote. Indirectly, of course, as
the proprietor of _Truth_, {513} he profited by his contributions to
his own paper; but nobody who knew him will suppose that this
consideration ever presented itself to him as a motive for exertion.
Neither was he actuated by that common weakness, love of seeing
himself in print. On the contrary, what became of anything he wrote
after he had produced it was a matter of profound indifference to
him. "I am the only person, I believe, on the Press," he wrote in
his later days, in answer to an apology for consigning to oblivion a
rather long-winded article forwarded from Florence, "who does not
care in the least whether his lucubrations do or do not appear in
print." He wrote to me many times in the same strain, and it was no
doubt literally true. Frequently he would write an article and omit
to post it; sometimes he mislaid it permanently, sometimes he
accidentally destroyed it. Sometimes he would send a second edition
of an article already received and printed, explaining that he could
not remember whether he had posted the first edition or torn it up by
mistake. From long experience of him, I doubt whether he ever looked
at anything he had written after it was printed and published, unless
some accidental circumstance gave him occasion to refer to it.
No man who ever wrote more strikingly exemplified the aphorism "_le
style c'est l'homme_." His style was entirely his own--a pure,
spontaneous growth, neither derived from reading, nor formed by
conscious effort. It reflected as vividly as his conversation the
characteristics of his intellect, his lucidity of thought and
expression, his quick apprehension, his distaste for display, his
unconventional habit of mind, his dry humour, his naïve wit. A very
good judge, and an old acquaintance in Parliament, writing of him in
the _Saturday Review_ after his death, said that "Mr. Labouchere's
prose was Voltairian." It was Voltairian because his mind was
Voltairian, and because he reproduced on paper, instinctively and
without effort, exactly what was in his mind. But it is out of place
to speak of anything that Mr. Labouchere did {514} in terms of
uncritical eulogy. On the technical side Mr. Labouchere's literary
work was marred by the failings which beset him in everything he
undertook--his repugnance to "taking trouble," and his supreme
indifference. Although he would overhaul his proof mercilessly, and
go on doing it as often as a proof was submitted to him, the process
was generally that of expanding and rewriting, rarely of touching up
and improving what he had written. He thought as little about
"polishing up" a sentence for the sake of literary effect as of
brushing his hat before he went for a walk. The consequence was that
the inevitable blemishes in the work of a man who wrote so fluently,
but never had the patience to read and correct his own manuscript,
constantly made their appearance in print. No one who reads his
work, knowing the way it was done, can doubt that he had it in him to
enrich English literature with veritable masterpieces. It was the
will that he lacked, not the ability, and so it was with nearly
everything he undertook.
Mr. Labouchere was a man of genius--genius real, original, and
many-sided. The signs of it are evident in almost everything he did,
including his mistakes and his eccentricities. But he had the
misfortune to be born very rich, and if he was not by nature indolent
he acquired an indolent habit of mind through never being under the
necessity of exerting his powers to their full capacity. His genius
was of the critical, not the creative order, and this also
contributed to his forming a view of life inconsistent with strenuous
exertion, for it led him to despise nearly everything that men
ordinarily prize, success in all its shapes included. During all the
time I knew him, his attitude towards life was that of a man playing
a game, interested in it certainly, but only for the amusement it
afforded him. It is worthy of note that he confesses to having been
in youth an inveterate gambler, and having given up play because he
found that it was acquiring too much hold over him. To be interested
in everything, but too much interested in nothing, was a cardinal
{515} principle of his life. Few men have ever incurred more
obloquy, and many worthy people regarded him with aversion; but it
was only from misunderstanding or lack of knowledge. To this he
himself contributed by his perverse habit of self-depreciation, his
indifference to the opinions of his fellow-men, and the amusement he
found in mystifying them. It is absurd to put him on a pedestal--a
position which he never allowed any one else, and which he took good
care to show he never desired for himself. But it was impossible to
be much in contact with him without appreciating that he was a being
of a rare order of intellect, with something in him that placed him
above the ordinary failings and foibles of humanity, however much he
might try to magnify his own. It was my privilege to know him pretty
closely for over thirty years, and very intimately for the last ten.
Though he did in that time many things that one would have wished he
had not done, and said many that would have been better left unsaid,
I can look back to him now only with admiration for his wisdom and
his wit, and affection for his drolleries and his indiscretions, no
less than for his many virtues.
There comes back to me the last time I sat with him, by the side of
the lake at Cadennabia. "Let us get away from this beastly band," he
had said, in the hall of the hotel after dinner, "one can't hear
oneself speak." So we sat down outside, and he rambled on: "I can't
think why people want bands when they come here. Wonderful place
this for stars! What I like about it is that you can see them in the
lake without craning your neck. I sit here and follow Bacon's
advice: look at the stars in the pond instead of in the sky, and you
won't tumble into the pond. There was a Greek named Pythagoras--or
some ass at any rate--who comforted himself with the notion that in
the future state he would be able to hear the music of the spheres.
Who wants to hear the music of the spheres? Bother that band! What
strikes me most about the stars is that they do their {516} work so
quietly. Pythagoras picked up his notions in the East--probably from
the Jews. They imagined angels with harps and a perpetual concert in
heaven. Good God! Think of having to sit at a concert for all
eternity! Wouldn't you pray to be allowed to go to hell? The only
reason that I can see for desiring immortality would be the chance of
meeting Pythagoras and the other asses, and having a few words with
them. Now Socrates was not an ass. He was for banishing musicians
from his republic. No doubt he saw that this would get him a lot of
republican votes. Gladstone once said to me----"
And then he dropped off to sleep. He was beginning by that time to
doze at odd times, though all his life it was characteristic of him
not to be able to take his sleep like an ordinary mortal. And not
long after I left him sitting there by the lake, sleep finally
overcame him, and he passed out into the night, to learn more of the
silence of the stars, and to have it out, if possible, with
Pythagoras.
{517}