Henry Labouchere
Henry Labouchere

PREFACE

It would be unfair both to the reader and to the subject of this memoir to let this book go forth without a word of introduction. The lot of Henry Labouchere, who was born in the reign of William IV. and lived to see George V. on the throne, was cast during a period of European development as important, perhaps, as any that modern history records. For certainly the most significant, if not the most salient, fact in the history of modern Europe is that democratisation of England which, in spite of many set-backs and obstacles, has at length been, in principle at all events, definitely achieved. To-day we are all democrats, Tories and Radicals alike. In that process, the full significance of which has still to unfold itself, Mr. Labouchere played a striking and original part. It was not always a successful one, but it was always played honestly, daringly, and, above all, characteristically. Although a convinced, and in spite of himself, if one may say so, even an enthusiastic Radical, no politician was ever less of a party man. His loyalty was given to principles, not men, and some of his bitterest attacks both in Parliament and in the press were reserved for Radical Ministries that, according to his lights, were untrue to their profession. He was also, what is not so common in politics, a thoroughly disinterested man. He sought neither office nor honour. Circumstances placed him beyond the need of money, and just as no personal feelings could ever blind him to political shortcomings in his leaders, so the strongest and most vehemently expressed disapproval of his opponents frequently went with a marked attachment to their persons, and the strange thing is that he succeeded in convincing both sides of the House of the genuineness of this emotionally disinterested attitude.

The opinions of Englishmen are rarely disinterested, and it should never be forgotten that Henry Labouchere was, in fact, a Frenchman. French by birth, he remained, to the day of his death, French in his method of formation of opinion, in his outlook on life, in the peculiar quality of his wit. It was this that enabled, or rather obliged, him to take that curiously detached view of English ideals which was at times so disconcerting even to those who thought that they understood him. Ideals, he held, were only entitled to respect when translated into material currency. "How much £ s. d. does he believe in what he says?" he would ask concerning some fervid prophet. And if convinced that the requisite materialisation had occurred, he would accept the prophet as one more strange and amusing phenomenon in a strange and amusing universe. It would have never occurred to him that because the prophet was sincere he was right. That was a matter for reason. He once observed to me, in his whimsical way, of a colleague, that the mere denial of the existence of God did not entitle a man's opinion to be taken without scrutiny on matters of greater importance. No "mere" Englishman could have said that. That essential foreignness rendered him hard of comprehension even to those who sympathised with his aims. For instance, he was a Radical, as sincere and convinced a Radical as the late Mr. Stead, but in a very different way. His Radicalism was based on Reason. It represented Reason applied to that particular department of human affairs called Politics, and so applied, one may add, in spite of the irrationality of most of the men called Radical politicians. English Radicalism, on the other hand, rests mainly on humanitarian sentimentalism. The religion du clocher of feudal England has been largely replaced by a rival cult, the hysterical excesses of which found in him a scathing critic. He did not resent the hereditary principle in government because it was unjust, but because it was absurd, and when he fought some concrete instance of injustice, as he was constantly doing, the emotional aspect of the case made little, if any, appeal to him. He disliked injustice on rational and, as it were, æsthetic grounds. He had no passionate love of virtue, public or private; he thought it, on the whole, a sound investment, but then even sound investments sometimes go wrong. In his personal outlook on things he was as completely non-religious as a man could be. He was not anti-religious. He fully recognised the utility of religious belief in others, perhaps even in society at large, and he based this recognition not so much on the hardness of men's hearts as on the thickness of their heads. But personally he, Henry Labouchere, took no interest whatever in the matter. In philosophy he was a strict agnostic, owning Hume, for whom he had the greatest admiration, and the Kant of the Critique of Pure Reason, as his masters. And he was remarkably well read in the works of those philosophers.

He was constitutionally suspicious of strong feelings or enthusiasm of any kind. All sensible people smoked, he used to say, in order to protect themselves against such disturbing factors. He loathed every kind of humbug. He did not, however, disdain it as a weapon. During the General Election of 1905 the Tories made a party cry of Tariff Reform; he calmly observed one day, throwing down his paper: "Well, of course I think we are right, but whether we are or not, we've got all the bunkum on our side."

In his personal relations with others he was very sociable and courteous, retaining even in old age the fine manners of an earlier generation. He was immensely kind-hearted, and suffered fools, if not gladly, at least with politeness and equanimity. His love for children is well known. There was nothing he enjoyed more than giving children's parties, and on these occasions would take any amount of personal trouble to ensure the pleasure of his little friends. My earliest recollection of him is, as a child of eight or so, sitting on his knee drinking in the most fascinating and horrible tales of the Siege of Paris, which he would tell me by the hour. And almost my last recollection is of his interest in a Christmas tree prepared for my own children on the very day on which he took to his bed for the last time.

These traits make up a character more familiar in France than elsewhere. In his political ideas he resembled Clémenceau more nearly than any English statesman, and in general habit of mind he was a direct descendant of Voltaire. In character he was more like Fontenelle. He had Fontenelle's moral scepticism, his personal confidence in reason qualified by his distrust of most people's reasoning powers, and his profound sense of the dangers of enthusiasm. People called him a cynic; and, if that somewhat vague term denotes one who attempts to discount the emotional factor in judgment, who endeavours to see the bare facts in as dry and objective a light as possible, a cynic he was. But he was a kind-hearted, even an affectionate cynic. It was not easy to win his regard, but, if you succeeded in winning it, you were sure of it. His own feelings he never expressed; this was not because he had none, but because of the exaggerated pudeur which he felt on the subject of the emotions. There was something both ridiculous and indecent to his mind in even the most restrained exhibition of affection. Briefly, he may be said to have worn a fig-leaf over his heart.

A word or two as to the method and scope of this book. In order to give a full and detailed account of the whole of Labouchere's career, it would have been necessary to write at least a dozen volumes; some sort of selection imposed itself. I have endeavoured to concentrate my own (and I hope my readers') attention on Labouchere himself. There is a danger which lurks for the biographer of a public man lest the environment of his hero—the narrative of the events in which he played a part—should hang too loosely to his figure. There is also the danger that the frame, so to speak, should not be given its due value in the portrait. In order to appreciate the part played in public affairs by an individual, it is necessary to understand what is going on. As this book has been written for the general public, I have felt it desirable to retell certain episodes in modern politics, in which Mr. Labouchere played an important part, in greater detail than would have been necessary had I been writing for politicians. In such retelling I claim no originality. I have followed standard authorities, and the point of view of my narrative has been, to a great extent, that of Mr. Labouchere himself, although, when I have come to the conclusion that that point of view was mistaken, I have not hesitated to say so. In this way I hope that the reader may be enabled to see the inevitability of much of Labouchere's political action, which at the time, looked at piecemeal, may have appeared gratuitously mischievous.

I feel I ought to call the reader's attention to the fact that if Mr. Labouchere's many-sided life is considered as a whole, his political proceedings represent but a small part of his activity. He had lived an average lifetime before he seriously took up political work, and genuine as his principles undoubtedly were, still politics were never really more to him than a means of self-expression and, it must be said, amusement. He loved watching the spectacle of life, and he came to find in the game of politics a sort of concentrated version of life as a whole. This feeling, the strongest perhaps that he possessed, combined with a passion to enter as an effective cause into the spectacle he loved, was responsible for his political incarnation. And he had a certain half-perverse, half-childish love of mischief which he was not always at pains to restrain, and which found in the intrigues of parties and groups abundant scope for exercise. It could not have found so much scope elsewhere, and was the motive power of much of his political action, particularly towards the end of his time in Parliament. After his retirement indeed, when politics had literally become nothing but a game to him, he would watch the cards as they fell with complete detachment from party views: "I wish I was entering politics now as a young Tory blood," was a frequent comment on public events during his last years.

Of course, he had his own way of putting things, which was not that of other people, and this brings me to the part in life as to which both friends and foes are agreed that he achieved complete success. Whatever else he was or was not, everybody is agreed that he was the greatest English wit since Sheridan. His gently modulated voice had a good deal to do with his conversational success, and the bland quiet manner with which the most startling remarks would be accompanied gave them weight, if not point. Still, even in cold print many of his sayings and appreciations will live as long as men laugh from intellectual motives. "I do not mind Mr. Gladstone always having an ace up his sleeve, but I do object to his always saying that Providence put it there," is a dictum which will not soon be forgotten. That observation, gently drawled out one evening in the lobby of the House of Commons, is a specimen of hundreds. I am persuaded that originally he had no intention of being witty, but supposed his quips and paradoxes to represent the bare facts expressed with the greatest economy of language. It is certain that no one was more surprised than he at the entertainment people found in the Letters of a Besieged Resident. He soon discovered his reputation for wit and deliberately made use of it, both as a shield and as a weapon of defence. It also served another purpose. There was a strong tendency to indolence in him that was gratified by his success in turning off awkward or puzzling questions with some witty or irrelevant remark. If this analysis is correct, it throws light on the nature of his wit, which consisted largely in a naïve and shameless revelation of the Secret de Polichinelle. For he said what every one thought but didn't dare say. The originality of his mind really consisted in the complete absence in his case of those conventional superstructures which imprison most of us. When he replied to some one who asked him if he liked Mme. X——, "Oh yes, I like her well enough, but I shouldn't mind if she dropped down dead in front of me on the carpet," he was only saying what many of us think but would never dream of saying even to ourselves of some of our friends.

It is a commonplace of moralists to say that human nature is full of contradictions. A subtler critic of man than the mere moralist would add that much of men's time is spent in smoothing out, or, at all events, conciliating, these contradictions. We choose a possible type of humanity—Aristotle, or some other Greek, gave an exhaustive list of them—and see ourselves in the part we have selected. According to our imaginative power and our strength of will we succeed more or less in playing that part at least for social purposes. Years pass and the mask grows to the face, as in the case of Mr. Beerbohm's Happy Hypocrite, and our friends and acquaintances cease in time to distinguish between our pose and our character. But there are moments when the mask cracks and close observers have their surprises.

Mr. Labouchere gave up early in life any consecutive attempt to make himself appear different to his real nature. A fragment of an early diary which I have utilised does indeed discuss the possibilities of success to the writer, and criticises, in scathing terms, achievements up-to-date. But this document, interesting and amusing as it is, is itself but a piece of boyish introspectiveness. In point of fact he was a terribly sincere person, partly from pride and partly from indolence. Had he been willing to condescend to insincerity, he would have been too lazy to do so for long. Here, then, was an additional stumbling-block. It is easy enough to understand a pose, or even a succession of poses, but a person who says neither more nor less than exactly what he means, and means exactly what he says, not because he thinks he ought to do so, or wishes to be understood as doing so, but because so, and not otherwise, his nature spontaneously expresses itself, is, in our present social state, almost unintelligible. What saved him under these circumstances from becoming a "prophet" was the pliability of intelligence that enabled him to understand other people and the sense of humour that enabled him to enjoy them.

I have selected from the voluminous correspondence put at my disposal only those letters which throw most light on Mr. Labouchere's state of mind and the part he played in political events with which he was connected.

I have to thank my many relatives and friends who have allowed me to make use of their letters from Mr. Labouchere, and also my cousin, M. Georges Labouchère, for communicating the result of his researches on the life of my great-grandfather. Among old friends of Mr. Labouchere, who have given me personal reminiscences of him, I have especially to thank Mrs. Emily Crawford, Mr. Wilfrid Blunt, Lord Welby, Sir Audley Gosling, and Mr. Robert Bennett, the editor of Truth, whose help has been invaluable in the narrative of Mr. Labouchere's founding of Truth and of its subsequent fortunes. Most of all, my thanks are due to Mr. Thomas Hart Davies, without whose constant sympathy and assistance this biography could not have been written.

ALGAR L. THOROLD.

12 CATHERINE STREET, WESTMINSTER.
August 15, 1913.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I

THE LABOUCHERE FAMILY

The Huguenots of Orthez—Youth of Pierre-César—Exile—The Dutch counting-house—A double ruff and a bid for a bride—Napoleon and peace—Fouché—The French agent—-Ouvrard—The wrath of Cæsar—The French loan—Residence in England—Lord Taunton—Mr. John Labouchere

CHAPTER II

CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH

(1831-1853)

Birth of Henry Labouchere—Early education—His first mot—Eton days—The young pugilist—The toper—Views on fagging—Trinity College, Cambridge—Insubordination—Suspension—His defence—He lives at a London tavern—Severe judgment of himself—Travels with a bear-leader—Wiesbaden—Voyage to Mexico—Gambling and good resolutions—Letter to his tutor

CHAPTER III

TRAVELS AND DIPLOMACY

(1853-1864)

Travels in Mexico—In love—The Chippeway Indians—In New York—His American sympathies—His views on American education—On American diplomats—On American girls—Becomes attaché at Washington—Mr. Crampton—Gambling again—The Irish patriot—Views on diplomatic negotiations—At Munich—Stockholm—Frankfort—Bismarck at Frankfort—Similarity of their opinions about diplomacy—His popularity at Frankfort—Petersburg—In love again—His opinion of Russians—Anecdotes—Dresden—Economical family at Marburg—Republic of Parana—Revolution in Florence—Constantinople—His stories about Lord Dalling—Close of diplomatic career—Mrs. Crawford's estimate of his character and remarks on his diplomatic career—Memoir of Henry Labouchere, by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

CHAPTER IV

PARLIAMENTARY AMBITIONS

(1866-1869)

Why men enter Parliament—New Windsor—His agreement with Sir Henry Hoare—Imprudent choice of agents—Election—Is unseated on petition—Repartee before Special Commission—His line of defence in the Times—Another letter on the subject—His maiden Speech—Reminiscences of the Windsor election—Anecdote about Lord Taunton—Becomes member for Middlesex—His speeches in the House—General Election of 1868—Lord George Hamilton—His quarrel with Lord Enfield—The Times on the quarrel—Nomination of candidates—Conservative rowdies—the poll—Dignified speech—Absurd reminiscence—Henry Irving at Brentford—General Election of 1874—Is defeated at Nottingham

CHAPTER V

JOURNALISM AND THE STAGE

(1864-1880)

His connection with the Daily News—He buys a share—Manager of the Queen's Theatre—Time and the Hour—Dearer than Life—Contretemps—Financial loss—Poor opinion of artists—A Bohemian—His knowledge of London—Edmund Yates tells how he came on the staff of the World—His city articles—Trial of Abbott at the Guild Hall—A calculator—Labouchere and Grenville Murray—He leaves the staff of the World—Journey with Mr. Bellew—Adventure with Dumas père—With Dumas fils—His visit to Newgate—Sensations as a man about to be hanged—Remarks about the Claimant—Immense popularity of Truth—The Lying Club in Co. Durham

CHAPTER VI

THE BESIEGED RESIDENT

(September, 1870-February, 1871)

He replaces Mr. Crawford as correspondent—Mrs. Crawford's impressions of him—Chaos at the Post Office—Immediate events leading up to the siege—His account of how the news of Sedan was received in Paris—The Prussians at Versailles—How he got his letters to London—Ennui—Letter to his mother—Theatrical behaviour of the Parisians—Further letters to his mother—His wardrobe—His hat—The Gaulois—New Year's address to the Prussians—His opinion of French journalists—His estimate of General Trochu—Meals during the siege—Castor and Pollux—Another letter to his mother—The leg of mutton and the sentimental Prussian soldier—His departure from Paris—How he behaved when under fire

CHAPTER VII

LABOUCHERE AND BRADLAUGH

The General Election of 1880—The "Radical" colleague—A faithful constituency—Mr. Bradlaugh and the oath—A House divided against itself—Labouchere's views on religion—His support of Bradlaugh—Unscrupulous use of the affaire Bradlaugh by the Opposition—Victory of Mr. Bradlaugh—His upright character and final popularity in the House—Mr. Gladstone's tribute—Mr. Labouchere on his colleague—The parallel of Wilkes

CHAPTER VIII

LABOUCHERE AND IRELAND

(1880-1883)

Ireland in 1880—The Land League—Outrages—Lord Cowper and Mr. Forster demand suppression of Habeas Corpus—Mr. Gladstone's hesitation—He yields under threat of Lord Cowper's resignation—Introduction by Forster of Bills for the Protection of Life and Property in Ireland, January, 1881—Labouchere's Irish views—Not at first a Home Ruler—Labouchere criticises Forster's measure in the House—The arrest of Parnell—His liberation—The "understanding" with Mr. Gladstone—Murder of Lord Frederick Cavendish and Mr. Burke—Renewed coercion opposed by Mr. Labouchere—He negotiates between the Government and Irish leaders in order to modify the Coercion Bill—Correspondence with Mr. Chamberlain—Interviews with Mr. Parnell—Identity of his Irish policy with that of Mr. Chamberlain

CHAPTER IX

LABOUCHERE AND MR. GLADSTONE'S EGYPTIAN POLICY

Mr. Gladstone and Egypt—A legacy from Disraeli—Cyprus and the Berlin Congress—The "Comedy of the Liars"—The Anglo-French Condominium—Ismail—Nubar and Sir Rivers Wilson—Sir Evelyn Baring—Deposition of Ismail—Khedive Tewfik—Revolt—Arabi Pasha—Mr. Wilfrid Blunt—Labouchere and Egypt—Labouchere drops his burden of Egyptian bonds—A letter to Sir Charles Dilke—Labouchere and military occupation—The Egyptian Government and the debt—The champions of Arabi—Speeches in the House—The Soudan—General Gordon—Correspondence between Labouchere and Chamberlain; between Labouchere and Mr. Blunt—Letters from Arabi to Mr. Labouchere—A later letter to Mr. Blunt

CHAPTER X

HENRY LABOUCHERE'S RADICALISM

Labouchere's political attitude—His faith in Chamberlain—Despair at Chamberlain's secession—His article in the Fortnightly, 1884—The Radical creed—The House of Lords and the Crown—The Church—The Land Laws—The Royal Family—Female suffrage—Whigs more to be detested than Tories

CHAPTER XI

IN OPPOSITION

(June, 1885-December, 1885)

Sir Henry Lucy on Labouchere—"The friendly broker"—Lord Salisbury's First Administration—Irish and Tories—Labouchere, Healy, and Chamberlain—The General Election—The Midlothian manifesto—A letter from Mr. Davitt—From Mr. Parnell and Lord Randolph Churchill—Letters from Mr. Healy—Labouchere's letter to the Times about Home Rule—Correspondence between Mr. Labouchere and Mr. Chamberlain

CHAPTER XII

THE SPLIT IN THE LIBERAL PARTY

Legislators in correspondence—Further letters from Mr. Chamberlain and Mr. Healy—Resignation of Mr. Chamberlain—Labouchere's efforts to reconcile Mr. Chamberlain with the Cabinet—His disappointment

CHAPTER XIII

SOME CONSEQUENCES OF BALFOUR's COERCION POLICY

Lord Salisbury's Second Administration—The new Coercion Bill—"Parnellism and Crime"—The facsimile letter—Mr. Healy on the condition of Ireland—Radical demonstration in Hyde Park—Mr. Labouchere on a waggon—He goes to Michelstown—The famous meeting—He describes the meeting in the House—Lord Randolph Churchill's criticism—Truth on the Michelstown murders—More incriminating letters—Mr. Labouchere enters the lists—The Parnell Commission—Correspondence with Pigott—First interview—Correspondence with Irishmen in America—Letter from Patrick Egan—Letters from Parnell—Pigott and the Attorney-General

CHAPTER XIV

COLLAPSE OF PIGOTT

Lord Russell's cross-examination of Pigott—The disappearance of Pigott—His confession to Mr. Labouchere—Mr. Lewis returns the confession—The Commission hears from Pigott—He sends the confession, under cover, to Mr. Shannon—The confession read out in court—Mr. Labouchere in the witness-box—Mr. Sala describes the scene at 24 Grosvenor Gardens—Pigott's end—Mr. Labouchere's compassion for his orphans—Letter from Dr. Walsh—Mr. Labouchere and Primrose dames—Trying to hoax Labby

CHAPTER XV

MR. LABOUCHERE NOT INCLUDED IN THE CABINET

Speeches on the Triple Alliance—He is not in the Cabinet—Queen Victoria's objection to the editor of Truth—Mr. Gladstone's correspondence with Mr. Labouchere—The indignation of Northampton—Mr. Labouchere's desire to be appointed Ambassador at Washington—Another disappointment for him

CHAPTER XVI

THE WAR IN SOUTH AFRICA

The Jameson Raid and the South African War—Mr. Labouchere on the Jameson Raid Commission

CHAPTER XVII

LABOUCHERE AND SOCIALISM

Mr. Labouchere on Socialism—Discussion with Mr. Hyndman

CHAPTER XVIII

MR. LABOUCHERE AS A JOURNALIST

Mr. Labouchere as Journalist and Litigant—Narrative of Truth

CHAPTER XIX

THE CLOSING YEARS

Retirement from Parliament—Farewell to Electors—Some correspondence—Last days

INDEX

ILLUSTRATIONS

RIGHT HON. HENRY LABOUCHERE, P.C. ... Frontispiece

From a photograph by Messrs. Brogi of Florence, taken in 1905 at Villa Cristina, Florence.

FACSIMILE LETTER SENT BY BALLOON POST

THE LIFE OF

HENRY LABOUCHERE

THE LIFE OF LABOUCHERE

CHAPTER I
THE LABOUCHERE FAMILY

Some forty miles south of Bayonne, on the right bank of the Gave, lies the little town of Orthez, the ancient capital of Béarn. Famous for the obstinacy of its resistance to the apostolic spirit of Louis XIV. and the excellence of its manufactured cloth, Orthez was further distinguished during the Wars of Religion by the possession of a Protestant university founded by Jeanne d'Albret in which Theodore Beza was professor. In 1664, the most Christian King sent his intendant Foucault to deal with the nest of heretics. Foucault did not waste time in theological subtleties, but gave the inhabitants twenty days in which to conform under penalty of a dragonnade. They did so unanimously, but there still remain more Protestants in Orthez than in any other town of Béarn.

Among the cloth merchants of Orthez none were more distinguished than the Labouchères. According to the Frères Haag, the compilers of La France Protestante, their name should be Barrier de Labouchère, the patronymic which they came to adopt being in reality the name of a property in the possession of the family. The earliest known ancestor of the Labouchères seems to have been a certain Jean Guyon Barrier, who married in 1621 one Catherine de la Broue.

Pierre-César, the founder of the British branch of the family and the grandfather of the subject of this memoir, was born at The Hague in 1772. He was the second son of Matthieu Labouchère and Marie-Madeleine Molière. His father, who, in consequence of the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, had been sent to England for his education, had subsequently settled in Holland. Pierre-César was sent at the age of thirteen to learn his uncle Pierre's business at Nantes,[1] where he remained until 1790, at which date he entered the house of Hope at Amsterdam as French clerk. In this humble position he laid the foundations of the great fortune and financial career which were to be his. The rise of the young French clerk was rapid. In six years he was a partner in the house of Hope and had married Dorothy, sister of Alexander Baring, who had become a partner in the Dutch firm at the same time as his French brother-in-law. The well-known story of the clever ruse by which Pierre-César won the hand of his bride and also his partnership in the house of Hope was told to the present writer some twenty years ago by the Rev. Alexander Baring[2] as follows:

Pierre-César was sent by Mr. John Hope to England to see Sir Francis Baring on some business, and fell in love with Sir Francis's third daughter Dorothy. Before leaving England he asked Sir Francis to permit him to become engaged to his daughter. Sir Francis refused. Pierre-César then said: "Would it make any difference to your decision if you knew that Mr. Hope was about to take me into partnership?" Sir Francis unhesitatingly admitted that it would. Pierre-César then went back to Holland and suggested to Mr. Hope that he might be taken into partnership. On Mr. Hope discouraging the idea, he said: "Would it make any difference to your decision if you knew that I was engaged to the daughter of Sir Francis Baring?" Mr. Hope replied, "Certainly." Whereupon the wily clerk said: "Well, I am engaged to Miss Dorothy Baring." That very day he was able to write to Sir Francis announcing the news of his admission to partnership in the house of Hope, and in the same letter he claimed the hand of his bride.[3]

The following picture of Pierre-César by a contemporary is interesting. The writer was Vincent Nolte, for many years a clerk in the house of Hope at Amsterdam. "Mr. Labouchère was at that time but twenty-two, yet ere long assumed the highly respectable position of head of the firm, the first in the world, and studied the manners of a French courtier previous to the Revolution: these he soon made so thoroughly his own, that they seemed to be a part of his own nature. He made a point of distinguishing himself in everything he undertook by a certain perfection, and carried this feeling so far that, on account of the untractable lack of elasticity of his body and a want of ear for music which nature had denied him, he for eighteen years deemed it necessary to take dancing-lessons, because he saw that others surpassed him in the graceful accomplishment. It was almost painful to see him dance. The old school required, in the French quadrille, some entrechats and one or two pirouettes, and the delay they occasioned him always threw him out of time. I have often seen the old gentleman, already more than fifty, return from a quadrille covered with perspiration. Properly speaking, he had no refined education, understood but very little of the fine arts, and, notwithstanding his shrewdness and quickness of perception, possessed no natural powers of wit, and consequently was all the more eager to steal the humour of other people. He once repeated to myself as a witty remark of his own to one of his clerks, the celebrated answer of De Sartines, a former chief of the French police, to one of his subordinates who asked for an increase of pay in the following words: 'You do not give me enough—still I must live!' The reply he got was: 'I do not perceive the necessity of that!' Now, so hard-hearted a response was altogether foreign to Mr. Labouchère's disposition, as he was a man of most excellent and generous feeling. He had, assuredly, without intention, fallen into the singular habit of speaking his mother-tongue—the French—with an almost English intonation, and English with a strong French accent. But he was most of all remarkable for the chivalric idea of honour in mercantile transactions, which he constantly evinced, and which I never, during my whole life, met with elsewhere, in the same degree, however numerous may have been the high-minded and honourable merchants with whom I have been thrown in contact. He fully possessed what the French call des idées chevaleresques."[4]

In 1800 Pierre-César re-established himself for a time in England, whither Hope's had been temporarily transferred after the invasion of Holland by Pichegru. A few years later he became involved in an interesting and delicate political negotiation.

In April, 1810, Napoleon, whose marriage with Marie Louise had filled him with peaceful aspirations, surveyed the world that he had conquered and decided that, for the moment, he had conquered enough. To consolidate his empire and his dependencies, peace was necessary. The only obstacle to peace was England—England who had never bowed before his eagles and only grudgingly admitted his existence. Negotiation with England was imperative, but how to negotiate, and by what means? What had he to offer Mr. Pitt? A substantial argument presented itself in the condition of Holland. Louis Buonaparte had disappointed his autocratic brother as an allied sovereign, and it was the Emperor's intention to remove him from the Dutch throne and unite the whole of the Netherlands to the Empire. This course could not fail to be disagreeable to the English, who would then be flanked by the French on two sides. So it occurred to Napoleon that, by leaving Holland her independence, he would be giving England a substantial quid pro quo for the withdrawal of British troops from the Peninsula. Evidently, however, he could not himself directly open negotiations. Not only would such action lower his prestige, but it was doubtful whether those infernal islanders would consent to treat with him. The negotiations had to be opened by way of Holland. King Louis' Government must not appear in it. There were prudent men of affairs there who could be trusted with the delicate task. Louis was delighted with the idea. He would retain his estate as an independent sovereign, the commerce of Europe would once more circulate freely to the replenishment of his subjects' coffers, and his terrible brother's ambitions would be effectively circumscribed.

Fouché, who, unknown to the Emperor, had already sent a private agent to London to discuss with the British Cabinet possible conditions of peace, entered enthusiastically into the project and designated Pierre-César as in every way the most suitable person to be entrusted with the affair. His position in the world of business as a partner of Hope in Amsterdam and of Baring in London was of the highest, and his father-in-law, Sir Francis Baring, who had been one of the principal directors of "John Company," was an intimate friend of Wellesley, the English Foreign Secretary, with whom he had spent some time in India.

Labouchère was to present himself informally to Wellesley, not as an envoy of the King of Holland and still less as the mouthpiece of Napoleon, but in the names of Roell, Van Der Heim, and Mollerus, three Dutch statesmen who professed to have been initiated by their King into all the secrets of the French Cabinet. He was to explain to the English Foreign Secretary that the marriage of Napoleon had altered his position and had caused him to desire the peace of Europe as a necessary condition of the consolidation of his Empire, and that, in order to induce the English Government to abandon hostilities, he was prepared to forego his intention of uniting Holland to his dominions. The Dutch Cabinet, aware of the Emperor's views, had hastened to open informal communications in order at one stroke to secure the peace of Europe and to retain the independence of their country. All having been arranged, Labouchère crossed from Brielle to Yarmouth and posted to London on his secret mission.

As a matter of fact the moment was not well chosen for its success. After the retirement, on the Catholic question, of Grenville and Grey, who had continued the Fox-Pitt coalition, the old Duke of Portland, who had been Home Secretary in Mr. Pitt's first Government, became Prime Minister. He maintained his power with difficulty: Canning and Castlereagh, respectively Home Secretary and Foreign Minister, quarrelled, left the Cabinet in order to fight a duel, and did not return to it. Lord Chatham did not survive the results of the expedition to Walcheren, and shortly afterwards Portland himself died. Mr. Perceval and Lord Wellesley were the most important persons left in the Cabinet. Perceval, who had been Portland's Chancellor of the Exchequer, kissed hands as Prime Minister on December 2, 1809, and Wellesley took the place of Bathurst as Foreign Secretary. Perceval was a clever lawyer and a bitter and prejudiced Tory; Wellesley's hereditary politics were qualified by suave manners, an enlightened spirit, and an unusual talent for clear and eloquent statement. Less passionate than Perceval, he had not the Prime Minister's influence with the party, but he enjoyed an immense reputation in the country which was daily increased by the news of his brother's gallant deeds at the front. The position of the Government, in spite of their parliamentary majority, was not very strong. They held their power by that most uncertain tenure—success in arms.

The opposition, led by Grenville and Grey, rejoiced in the avowed favour of the Prince of Wales, whom an accident, such was the state of the King's health, might any day call to the regency, and even to the throne. The Prince had openly declared himself against the war, and the leaders of the opposition argued forcibly, in and out of season, against its continuance. The militarism of the country was not, however, to be checked in this way. The news of one victory outweighed much argument. But news was not always of victories. Forty thousand English troops had been forced to retire before Antwerp, with a loss of fifteen thousand from death and disease. This calamity more than balanced the victory of Talavera. Perceval stuck to his war policy with blind and furious determination. He no doubt felt that his one chance of retaining office was to do so. Wellesley, on the other hand, in spite of the glory won by his family through the war, was open to reason on the subject. He had already received politely Captain Fagan, a high officer in Condé's army, whom Fouché had sent over on his own responsibility to feel the way toward conditions of peace. He had received him politely, but had answered him evasively to the effect that the King's Government was by no means bent on continuing the war at all costs, but would gladly entertain proposals of peace if they were advanced by responsible, fully accredited agents and were compatible with the honour of the two nations. Labouchère was unable to get anything more definite out of him. But Wellesley, reserved with the French agent, opened himself more fully to his old friend Sir Francis Baring. To him he explained that no member of the Cabinet believed in Napoleon's good faith. He personally saw nothing in Labouchère's mission but a trap laid for English public opinion by the supreme adventurer, and judged that nothing was to be gained by playing into his hand. Moreover, the Government would never abandon Spain to Joseph or Sicily to Murat, and would in no circumstances consent to the loss of Malta. The fullest preliminary assurances on these points were the sine qua non of any successful negotiation.

Sir Francis Baring, who was a sagacious man, communicated this conversation, together with his personal comments thereon, to Labouchère. It was evident, he said, that England had grown accustomed to the war, and would not abandon it except under the stress of a reverse impossible to predict, and that the nation would never lose all they had fought for in the Peninsula by yielding Spain to a Buonaparte prince. He suggested, without any official authority, an arrangement which, leaving Malta to England, would give Naples to Murat, Sicily to the Neapolitan Bourbons, and would restore Spain to Ferdinand, save for the provinces on the French side of the Ebro, which might be given to Napoleon as an indemnity for the expenses of the war. Convinced that nothing further was to be obtained in London, Labouchère returned to Holland and sent to King Louis at Paris the meagre results of his mission. Unfortunately, Napoleon was as well accustomed to war as England. As soon as he had received Labouchère's reply, he gave up the notion of using Holland as a weapon against England and determined to settle his affairs with his brother independently of the general situation. Nevertheless, he did not wish to entirely let fall the indirect relations on which Labouchère had entered with the English Cabinet, and sent him a reply to be transmitted through Sir Francis Baring to Lord Wellesley. The Emperor's reply was perhaps more statesmanlike than might have been expected. If England was accustomed to the war, the French were even more in their element on the battlefield. France was victorious, rich, prosperous, obliged, no doubt, to pay a high price for sugar and coffee, but not reduced to the point of doing without those luxuries. She could support the situation for a long time yet. If, in these conditions, he thought of peace, it was because in the new position created by his marriage with an Austrian archduchess he was anxious to terminate the struggle between the old order and the new. As for the kingdoms he had created, it was not to be thought that he would sacrifice any of them. Never would he dethrone his brothers Joseph, Murat, Louis, and Jerome. But the destinies of Portugal and Sicily were still in suspense; these two countries, Hanover, the Hanseatic cities, and the Spanish colonies might still be dealt with. In any case, it might be possible to mitigate the horrors of war. He had been obliged to reply by the decrees of Berlin and Milan to the orders-in-council issued by the British Cabinet, and the sea had been converted into a stage for violence of every description. This state of things was perhaps more dangerous for England than for France, since an Anglo-American war might easily result. If the English Government agreed with these appreciations they had but to relax their laws of blockade. France would follow suit, Holland and the Hanseatic towns would retain their independence, the sea would be opened to neutrals, the war would lose some of its bitterness, and, possibly, in time a complete understanding between the two nations might be reached. Such was Napoleon's, on the whole, judicious reply, and on these terms, and on these terms only, was Labouchère authorised to make any further attempts at negotiation.

But Napoleon counted without Fouché. That brilliant and unscrupulous person, who had been recently raised to the important Ministry of Police with the title of Duc d'Otrante, was a peace fanatic. In every day that the war continued he saw danger to the Empire. The failure of the Labouchère mission, in which he no doubt felt his self-love wounded, since he had himself indicated the envoy, disappointed him profoundly. He determined to bring about peace himself, and relied on his success to justify himself in the Emperor's eyes. It would have been a dangerous thing to do under any government: it was a piece of insanity under a master so absolute, so vigilant, as Napoleon. He accordingly sent one Ouvrard to Amsterdam to urge Labouchère to reopen negotiations with the British Cabinet on conditions much more favourable to England than the Emperor had made. Labouchère naturally thought that Fouché once more represented Napoleon, and recommenced negotiations on a basis much more satisfactory to English policy. The basis was different indeed. According to Ouvrard, the Emperor would modify his views on Sicily, Spain, the Spanish colonies, Portugal, and Holland; he was earnestly desirous of peace, and he shared the hostility of the British Cabinet to the Americans. In order to give Labouchère more credit with Wellesley, Fouché offered to give up to him a mysterious personage called Baron Kolli, an English police agent, who had been visiting Valencay to arrange the escape of Ferdinand. Kolli had been arrested by the French troops who had charge of the imprisoned King. The arrest had been considered an important event by the Cabinet of St. Cloud. To all this Ouvrard added a good deal of his own, and Labouchère could not do otherwise than believe what he was told. Accordingly he reopened negotiations by letter with Wellesley.[5]

In the following month, Napoleon, who was making one of his tours of personal inspection in the Netherlands, discussed the Labouchère negotiations with his brother Louis at Antwerp. By a curious chance he had caught sight on his journey of Ouvrard, who was on his way from Amsterdam to Paris. The Emperor's promptness of mind had at once suggested to him that Ouvrard, who enjoyed the favour of Fouché and had business relations with Labouchère, was probably mixing himself up in what did not concern him, perhaps giving advice which was not wanted, or trying to float some speculation on the probabilities of peace. With the presentiment of his genius he at once forbade Labouchère to have any relations with Ouvrard and ordered him to send immediately all the correspondence that had been exchanged between Amsterdam and London to the King. Labouchère at once communicated all his own letters and those he had received from London.

The blow fell on June 2 at St. Cloud, where the Emperor, the day after his return from Holland, convoked a Council of Ministers to meet him. Fouché, in charge of the most important portfolio of the imperial Cabinet, was naturally present. Napoleon turned and rent him. What was Ouvrard doing in Holland? Had Fouché sent him there? Was he or was he not an accomplice of this preposterous intrigue? Fouché, surprised and upset by this sudden and unexpected attack, could find nothing better to say than that Ouvrard was a busybody who was always mixing himself up in other people's business and that it was wiser to pay no attention to anything he might say. The astute personage must indeed have been upset to attempt to "pay" Napoleon with such words. Ouvrard and his papers were at once seized, the mission being entrusted not to Fouché, who as Minister of the Police would naturally have received such an order, but to Sazary, an aide-de-camp whom the Emperor had made Duc de Rovigo and in whom he had complete confidence. Ouvrard's papers revealed at once the extent to which the intrigue had been pushed and of Fouché's complicity. The next day Fouché was dismissed from the Ministry of Police, where he was succeeded by Rovigo, and appointed Governor of Rome. When Napoleon had anything to do he did it quickly.

He did not rest there, however. He was determined to get to the fin fond of these singular negotiations. Ouvrard, kept in prison, was constantly examined, and Labouchère was summoned to Paris and ordered to bring all the papers still in his hands. It appeared, from a comparison of these with those already seized, that Labouchère had acted in perfectly good faith, and the whole responsibility rested with Fouché and Ouvrard. Fouché's disgrace was complete. As soon as the Emperor discovered the episode of the Fagan mission he turned once more on the luckless minister and demanded all the papers relative to that affair. Fouché replied that they were of no importance and that he had burned them. Napoleon, on hearing this, gave way to one of his appalling exhibitions of rage, took away from Fouché the governorship of Rome, and exiled him to Aix in Provence. So ended this curious affair in which Pierre-César Labouchère had served his country faithfully and intelligently to the extent which circumstances permitted. Some years later he was to serve his country perhaps more signally, and certainly more effectively.

When in 1817 France was beginning the task of reconstruction, the principal difficulty in the way of the ministers of Louis XVIII. was the very serious financial situation. By the treaty of November 20 of the preceding year, the country was pledged to pay to foreigners no less than seven hundred million francs in money in the course of five years, with an additional sum of a hundred and thirty million for the pay of the 150,000 foreign troops which occupied the country. There were also numerous debts, both at home and abroad, the payment of which had been guaranteed by the treaties of 1814 and 1815. The ordinary revenue was useless to meet such heavy charges, and extraordinary taxation, in the state of the country, would have spelt ruin. It was necessary to have recourse to credit. But how to obtain a loan? France was not in a state which could inspire financiers with much confidence. In these circumstances Messrs. Labouchère and Baring once more placed themselves at the service of the French Government. They purchased nearly twenty-seven million francs' worth of government five per cent. rente, and thus restored French credit. Their action was, no doubt, not purely disinterested, as they bought the rente at an average price of 56.50 and obtained an interest of nine per cent. on their money. Still, the difficulty of the moment was to find anybody to do it at any price.[6] A private journal of the period, kept by the husband of a niece of Sir Francis Baring, consequently a first cousin by marriage of Mme. Pierre-César Labouchère, gives the following account of the transaction:[7] "The 'Alliance Loan' of the Barings at Paris in 1816 probably doubled his (Pierre-César's) fortune, and he soon after quitted business, and settled altogether in England, living at Hylands, a property he bought in Essex, and in Hamilton Place, where his home was frequented by many distinguished people and diplomatists."

Two sons were born to Pierre-César and Dorothy Labouchère. The elder, Henry, was born in 1798, and made for himself a social and political career of decided distinction, as a Whig of the old school, a certain primness and conventionality of character enabling him to perform the part successfully in private as in public life. He took a first-class in classics at Oxford, and in 1832 found himself a Lord of the Admiralty. He became subsequently Vice-President of the Board of Trade, Under-Secretary to the Colonies, President of the Board of Trade, Chief Secretary of Ireland, Secretary of State for the Colonies, and was raised to the peerage in 1859, when he assumed the title of Baron Taunton, choosing the name of the borough he had represented in Parliament for thirty years. It was at Taunton in 1835 that he opposed and defeated Dizzy by a majority of a hundred and seventy, when, on his appointment as Master of the Mint under Lord Melbourne, he offered himself to his constituents for re-election. His primness and conventionality found on this occasion an admirable foil in the manner and appearance of his opponent, who was "very showily attired in a bottle-green frock coat, a waistcoat of the most extravagant pattern, the front of which was almost covered with glittering chains, and in fancy pattern pantaloons." The judicious electors of Taunton preferred Mr. Labouchere's more solid qualities.

Lord Taunton died very suddenly on July 13, 1869. He was twice married, first to Frances, daughter of Sir Thomas Baring,[8] and secondly to Lady Mary Howard, a daughter of Lord Carlisle. He left no sons. Consequently the bulk of his fortune descended to his brother John Labouchere's eldest son Henry, the future member for Northampton and editor of Truth.

The younger Henry Labouchere's earliest recollections carried him back to his childish visits to his grandfather in Hamilton Place, where Prince Talleyrand, then Ambassador to the Court of St. James (1830-34), was a frequent visitor. "I have always taken a special interest in Talleyrand," he wrote when he was sixty, "because he gave me when a child a very gorgeous box of dominoes."[9]

The elder Henry Labouchere does not seem at first sight to have shared any traits with his nephew and namesake. The only point on which they may be said to have agreed was their love for America. Lord Taunton as a young man travelled much in the United States with Lord Derby, and he had important business interests there as well as in South America, arising out of the commercial enterprises of the house of Hope. He acquired in the course of his travels a strong liking for American institutions and a genuine affection for the American people, a feeling which, as we shall see, was shared by his nephew.

Mr. John Labouchere predeceased Lord Taunton by six years, and it was often presumed by persons who knew the family but slightly that the younger Henry Labouchere was the son of Lord Taunton, which mistake gave the young wit the opportunity of making one of his best-known repartees. On one occasion a gentleman, to whom Henry was introduced for the first time, opened the conversation by remarking: "I have just heard your father make an admirable speech in the House of Lords." "The House of Lords!" replied Mr. Labouchere, assuming an air of intense interest, "well, I always have wondered where my father went to when he died."

[1] Presumably Uncle Pierre had conformed and stuck to it.

[2] The portraits of Pierre-César Labouchère and Dorothy his wife, now in my possession, were then at Farnham Castle, and Mr. Baring was visiting my father, the then Bishop of Winchester, when he related to me this anecdote of my great-grandparents.

[3] The story is confirmed by the Hon. Francis Henry Baring. Mr. F. H. Baring was told it by the late Thomas Charles Baring, M.P., the son of the Bishop of Durham. Mr. T. C. Baring was for many years a partner in Baring Bros., where he probably heard the story. Sir Henry Lucy, in his More Passages by the Way, mentions that Mr. Labouchere himself believed the story to be true.

[4] Vincent Nolte, Fifty Years in Both Hemispheres. American translation, 1854.

[5] Thiers, Histoire du Consulat et de l'Empire; Louis Madelin, Fouché. See also Times, March 16, 1811, for the English account.

[6] Histoire de Mon Temps: Mémoires du Chancelier Pasquier, publiées par le Duc d'Audriffet-Pasquier, 1789-1830.

[7] The journal was written by Mr. T. L. Mallet, who married Lucy, daughter of Charles Baring. I am indebted for the extract to Lord Northbrook.

[8] Yet another link between the Laboucheres and the Barings was forged by the marriage, in 1837, of Lady Taunton's sister, Emily Baring, to Mrs. John Labouchere's brother, the Rev. William Maxwell Du Pre. His sister, Caroline Du Pre, became the wife of the Rev. Spenser Thornton, who was a grandson of Godfrey Thornton by Jane his wife, a daughter of an influential director of the French hospital, Stephen Peter Godin, whose family note-book was published in the January number of the Genealogist (The Labouchère Pedigree, by Henry Wagner, F.S.A., 1913).

[9] Truth, March 19, 1891.

CHAPTER II

CHILDHOOD AND YOUTH

(1831-1853)

John Peter Labouchere,[1] the younger son of Pierre-César Labouchère, was a partner in the firm of Hope at Amsterdam, and, later, a partner in the bank of Williams, Deacon, Thornton, and Labouchere. He married Mary Louisa Du Pre,[2] second daughter of Mr. James Du Pre of Wilton Park in Buckinghamshire, and granddaughter of Sir William Maxwell of Monteith, by whom he had a family of three sons and six daughters, of whom one son and four daughters are still living. He was the owner of Broome Hall in Surrey, and his town house was at 16 Portland Place. He was an extremely religious man and well known for his charitable and philanthropic labours. At one period his elder brother, Lord Taunton, then Mr. Henry Labouchere, also had a house in Portland Place, and he used to relate that he was constantly pestered by persons confusing him with his brother the banker, who called to ask for his help and patronage with regard to various evangelical enterprises. It was his habit to reply to them: "You have made a mistake, sir; the good Mr. Labouchere lives at No. 16."

Henry Du Pre, the eldest son of John Labouchere, was born at 16 Portland Place on November 9, 1831. His education, had he been a docile pupil, would, according to his father's wishes, have been that of a conventional English boy with some reasonable expectations of a fine career in the financial or the diplomatic world, into either of which he had an easy entrée through the influence of the Labouchere family. But he displayed, at the very beginning of his career, a curious and original character, which did not seem to follow easily any of the known paths of learning marked out for the youth of his period. The earliest repartee recorded of him was made to the headmaster of the private school to which he was sent at the age of six. Before breakfast, the morning after his arrival, the new boys were placed in a row, and asked whether they had all washed their teeth. One by one they answered in the affirmative, until came the turn of Henry. "No," he answered firmly. "And pray why not?" wound up the master indignantly, after a long lecture on the enormity of the crime of neglecting the cleanliness of the teeth. "Because I haven't got any," smiled Henry suddenly. He was just at the stage of changing his baby teeth, and his toothless gums were displayed for the full benefit of the discomfited moralist.[3] Nearly fifty years later Labouchere published the following account of his school-days:

"When I was a boy I was sent to a school which was kept by one of the most ill-conditioned ruffians that ever wielded a cane. He used to suffer from lumbago (this was my only consolation), and would crawl on his hands and knees into the schoolroom; then he would rear up and commence caning a few boys, merely, I truly believe, from a notion that the exercise would be beneficial to his muscles. The man was ignorant, brutal, mean, and cruel, and yet his school somehow had a reputation as an excellent one—mainly, I suspect, because he had the effrontery to charge a high price for the privilege of being at it."[4]

He went to Eton in the September of 1844, and was entered at the house of Edward Balston, who afterwards became headmaster. Dr. Hawtrey, whose classical teaching has been described as "more picturesque than useful," was headmaster during the three years and a half that Henry Labouchere was at the school. The boy seems to have been a fairly idle scholar, and nothing remarkable in the way of a sportsman. He was exceedingly small for his age and, in consequence, a light weight, so that he was much in request on summer afternoons as a "cox." Among his contemporaries at Eton were the late Lord Avebury, the late Sir George Tryon, Lord Roberts, the late Sir Arthur Blackwood, Sir Algernon West, and Lord Welby. Lord Welby recollects that he had, even in his Eton days, the dry, cynical manner and original mode of verbal expression which, later on, marked him out from his fellows.

Labouchere fell under a suspicion of bullying whilst at Balston's, and the consequences he was forced to undergo are interesting as illustrative of the Eton justice of the forties. He was in the fifth form, and the elder boys of his house summoned the captain of the lower boys, one Barton, who was a good deal bigger than Labouchere, to fight him in the house. Barton had no quarrel on his own account with Labouchere—it was a case of representative justice. The fight was arranged to take place in one of the rooms after tea, it being the uncomfortable practice in those days always to fight after a meal. Labouchere and Barton punched away at each other for an hour or so, until the big boys went down to supper, when they were allowed to rest. After the elders had supped, the fight was renewed until Labouchere succumbed. However, it was generally allowed that he had made a good show before a bigger man than himself. The next day the eyes of the combatants were bunged up, their noses swollen to bottle size, and their complexions coloured bright blue and green with bruises. They could not go into school. Balston was obliged to take notice of what had happened, which he did with well-simulated indignation, and, when they were able to return to school, reported them to Hawtrey, who "swished" them both.[5]

Another contemporary of Mr. Labouchere's at Eton, the late Frederick Morton Eden, related a story about him at a dinner given to him some years ago, as the senior "Old Etonian," in the School Hall of the College. Whilst the old chapel was being restored, a temporary chapel of wood and iron was run up. The corrugated iron roof made the heat intolerable during the summer months, so Labouchere hit upon a plan to put a stop to the nuisance of "chapel in the shanty." One boy was to pretend to faint and four others were to carry him out. A fifth was to follow bearing the hats of the performers. The plan worked admirably. The service was brought to a temporary stop and the boys, as soon as they were outside, scampered merrily off and procured some agreeable refreshment. The repetition of this comedy, of course, aroused the suspicion of the masters, but nevertheless, like many of Labouchere's intrigues in later life, it produced eventually the desired effect. There was no more chapel during the hot weather until the restoration of the old chapel was complete.

A reminiscence of his Eton days that Mr. Labouchere was fond of relating has already found its way into print, but will bear repetition, as all may not have read it. One day, his store of pocket-money being at high-water mark, he conceived the notion of doing the man about town for an hour or two; so, having dressed himself with scrupulous care, he sallied forth, and, entering the best hotel in the place, engaged a private room, and in a lordly manner ordered a bowl of punch. The waiter stared but brought the liquor, and went away. The boy, having tasted it, found it horrible. He promptly poured it into the lower compartment of an antique oak sideboard. He waited a little to see whether it would run out on to the carpet. Luckily the drawer was watertight, and Labouchere rang the bell again and proudly ordered from the amazed waiter a second bowl of punch. He poured this also into the oak sideboard, and in a few minutes rang for the bill, tipped the waiter majestically, and swaggered out of the hotel, quite satisfied that he had won the admiration and respect of the whole staff.