HONOURS-BROKERAGE—A PERSONAL REMINISCENCE.
THE examples of Honours-Brokerage given by the Duke of Northumberland in the National Review have led me to think that a certain experience of my own about twelve or thirteen years ago had a good deal more in it than I, in my innocence, thought at the time. To be plain, I encountered an example of Honours-Brokerage which seemed to me so completely removed from actuality that I treated it as a piece of pure comic opera— something which amused me highly, but something not worth troubling about in any other respect. However, I had better aecount the facts before I draw any morals. One day in 1909, or 1910, I forget which, I received a letter from a gentleman with a somewhat foreign- - looking name, but with an impressive address, who asked me whether he might come and talk to me on a matter of considerable importance, and one which concerned me personally. A long experience of postal correspondence had led me to the cynical conclusion that a letter which promises me matters of personal benefit to be disclosed at an interview almost always ends in a request for a small ;loan, or a " job," or something else which, though it may be of benefit to the person who wants the interview, is never of any benefit whatever to me. Still, there is always something attractive in the unknown, and the style of the letter was distinotly amusing. I therefore told the writer that I should be glad to see him if he would call at a particular time on a particular day. On the day and hour in question a gentleman of distinctly Semitic appearance, with a German name, and a still more German accent, sailed, like a ship of Javan or Gadire, with all his bravery on, into my room. He was a pleasure to behold, so wreathed was his face in smiles, so benevolent his self-satisfaction, and so obviously genuine his delight in mere existence. If I remember rightly, he actually rubbed his hands in the manner of the happy man in the Early-Victorian farce.
He got to business at once. " I have the verry greatest pleasure to tell you something that you will like verry much indeed, and something which gives me also great joy to tell you." And then, with one finger laid lightly on. his nose, in a style which I could not help thinking a little overdid the part, he went on : " I happen to know that there is a leetle Honour gomming your way—just gemming—and I wanted to be the first to tell you, for there is no man who admires you more than I do, and who also admires your so admirable paper." I have always loved the humours of the fray in life's general engagement, and rather regretted that I did not get enough of them. Therefore, I was greatly exhilarated by such an opening. There was, besides, something contagious in the pleasure of my Teutonic admirer. I accordingly made no attempt to snub him, but thanked him most cordially, though I wont on to say that I could assure him that he was mistaken and that he must have got hold of the wrong editor and the wrong paper. On this he naively, but firmly, interrupted me to say that he was sure he was not. He was certain it was Mr. Strachey and the Spectator. He couldn't be mistaken. I then proceeded to give him a little lecture as to the way in which Honours were given. Ministers invariably gave them to members of their own Party, and it was impossible, therefore, that any Honour of any sort or kind could be coming to me. I had quarrelled in turn with the Chiefs of both the Parties in the State, and on vital points, and, further, had criticized them in a hostile sense. That was a thing which was never forgotten or forgiven under our system. Therefore, though gratified by his kindly thought of me, I could not help feeling sorry that he had had the trouble of coming on a mistaken and fallacious errand.
He did not seem the least crestfallen at this, but still beamed joyously upon me. He could not be mistaken— he was quite sure it was all right. He had heard the most distinguished persons, with whom he was often brought into contact, talking over the matter quite lately as a settled thing. I tried to stem his eloquence by once more pointing out that he was speaking of an impossibility. On this he artfully introduced a lady into the case, though he did not name her. " A great lady, a very nice lady, had informed him that she loved the Spectator more than anything else, or, at any rate, more than any other paper; and that she had long felt that the editor ought to receive some Honour. And now she was glad to say that it had been arranged." I gathered that she did not actually say " alone I did it," but the inference was clear. Further, my interlocutor was assured that he was at liberty to tell me what my powerful if unknown friend had done for me. I continued the conversation with the utmost gravity. To tell the truth, I had half begun to believe that I was a character in a farce to be called Taming an Editor, or Up the Backstairs and Down the Front, or The Right Little, Tight Little Honour, or some such concise piece of titular drollery. I still told my friend that he was mistaken, and he still insisted. It looked like a deadlock. And then I had an inspiration. With an air of courtly serious- ness, I asked him to express unknown—he thanks to the lady in question, name own—he could not, ho declared, divulge that under any circumstances whatever— for her kindness and sympathy with the Spectator. I must, however, beg her not to trouble herself in the matter any more. I was certain that she was mistaken in thinking that any Honour was intended for me. Therefore, I would very much rather that she should not think any more about the subject. That was the way to show her sympathy with me and the Spectator. To all this my new friend offered repeated protests. Suddenly, however—perhaps I had overdone the ironic touch—he seemed to think that I was pulling his leg, and that my complimentary language might turn into something unpleasant. Before I could note how it happened, a strange look came over his features. His eyes, which before had met mine with frank exuberance, failed to do so. His face lengthened and all the charm of the teller of good news evaporated. He looked positively chapfallen. Then, without any formal leave-taking, he made a headlong exit. He was out of the door and down the stairs before I realized what was happening. Never had I seen so rapid a departure It took my breath away, though it added much to the amusement of the scene. This particular incident was, indeed, so unexpected, as well as so dramatic, that when I had recovered from my astonishment and ran to the window to see whether I could catch a last sight of my friend I saw not a trace. The earth seemed to have swallowed him up. Indeed, but for his original letter, which was still on my desk, I could 1 ave believed that the whole thing was a dream.
After my amusement had worn off, my first impulse was to take the matter up seriously and write either to the Prime Minister or to someone about him, tell the whole story, and suggest that there must be something wrong if people could venture ID " pitch " tales of this kind. How- ever, I ultimately decided to do nothing. In the first place, the thing seemed to be so ridiculous that, unless one happened to be on very intimate terms with the Prime Minister, which I was not, he might conceivably think that my story was a tactful and diplomatic, if indirect, way of approaching him with a request for some Honour. I did not realize then how brazen people are in asking for Honours for themselves or their friends, and I pictured the Prime Minister of the day thinking that I must be either suffering from a delusion or had become Honours crazy. But though I decided to do nothing, I told the story to those of my friends whom I thought would enjoy the humour of the situation. All agreed, however, that I should look foolish if I solemnly reported the episode to those who were officially concerned with the grant of Honours.
I have since often amused myself by wondering what my caller wanted me to say, or how he would have dealt with the situation supposing I had taken it seriously. I imagine that what was really expected from me was a frank avowal of how pleased I was and how greatly touched by his coming to tell me the good tidings, and finally, how I hoped he would not mind taking a little present from me by way of remembrance. A cheque for £500 given to him as the first person who had saluted me over the Honour would be only fair and reasonable. Then a protestation or two from him—after, of course, he had got the cheque tight in his hand that he had never looked for this and did not want it, and that the pleasure of pleasing the Editor of the highly-to-be-esteemed Spectator was quite enough. Next I suppose, as he had professed to be nothing but a bringer of good tidings, the great lady in question would have had to receive something, a something much more substantial than £500, for having introduced my name, as it was alleged she did. The assumption was that by saying that she thought I had blushed too long unseen at the bottom of the political and journalistic ocean she had started the whole incident.
Finally, I suppose that there would have had to be a still larger cheque for the Party funds, which I should be told was much diminished in my case because I was con- sidered to be a person not unfit for Honours, &c., &c. I have always understood that the Whips insist that, if you are a man not well known, the customary cheque to the Party funds must be greatly augmented in order to get you on to the final list. Indeed, there were whispers that another nought must then be added to the cipher put down for normal cases. As the independent elector of old days says to the candidate in the story : " We usually 'as £5 each, but I couldn't think of taking less than £10 from a gentleman what's a regular professed Atheist."
I must confess that there was another reason which made me glad that the matter was too trivial for me to follow up. I felt that the whole of the Honours business had even then become so tainted that I might have found myself involved in a rather sordid business. My gentleman would not only have sworn that he never said the things to me which I have put down above, but that, on the contrary, I had proposed the interview, that I had approached the lady, that I had suggested that this or that Honour should be given to me, and that after express- ing his horror and amazement at my proposals he had fled in honourable disgust. I did not think that his word would be taken against mine, but knowing how Ministers have always dreaded investigation as to Honours transactions, I thought it was quite possible that the whole matter would be got rid of by saying that there was a conflict of evidence, and that the best way would be to think no more about it—a conclusion of the business which would not have been particularly pleasant for me. Therefore I laughed the thing off, though occasionally haunted by the idea that there was something in the incident after all. The specific letters which the Duke of Northumberland produced in the House of Lords have, however, made me feel that it is quite possible that my friend belonged to the Honours underworld and was one of the people who undertake to do the cheque collecting for the Whips' Fund. Take, for example, the following letter quoted by the Duke of Northumberland, which apparently he knows to have been sent to two people, to be, that is, a common form :— " Dear Sir,—
I am requested to place before you a social matter of a very confidential nature, which it is thought may be of interest to you. Will you kindly let me know whether you can suggest a meeting within the next few days in London or elsewhere. I cannot put more in a letter.
P.S.—In case you might care to find out who I am, I am well
known to of I Except that my man was a little more exuberant, this is by no means unlike the letter I received.
I still think, with a kind of amused pathos, of the face of my friend just before he bolted. It is always disagree- able to disappoint people, and this man really seemed quite overcome when I did not play the game as he apparently thought that it ought to have been played.
J. ST. LOE STRACHEY.
Previous page
