The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

by Dennis Wheatley

  For the best part of two hours oysters, lobsters, trout, salmon, a sucking pig, a saddle of lamb, capons, ducks, pies pasties, meringues, jellies and hot-house fruit, were devastated by the gargantuan appeties with which a life-time of habit had equipped the men and women of those times; each item being washed down with a glass of Chablis, Rhenish, Sillery, Claret or Champagne. At length Georgina caught Lady Amelia’s eye, upon which the ladies left the men to belch at their ease and settle down to a little really serious drinking.

  Fox was soon launched on a series of bawdy stories that set the table in a roar; Selwyn, Vorontzoff, Droopy Ned and Roger all contributed a few. Colonel Thursby, like a good host, kept the port circulating, and encouraged them with a quip here and there. Only the lugubrious Duke remained silent. He seemed to have neither humour nor humanity, but possibly he was moderately contented in his own queer way; as, immediately the ladies left the room he had fetched a long churchwarden pipe, and ever since he had been puffing at it like a suction engine, so that he was now surrounded by a cloud of smoke as dense as that issuing from one of his new factory chimneys. The others had given up all attempts to draw him into their merriment, and for them laughter and jest caused three-quarters of an hour to vanish in what seemed only the twinkling of an eye.

  During the gale of mirth that followed some witty French verses with which Droopy Ned had delighted the company, Vorontzoff stood up, and, bowing slightly to Colonel Thursby, left the room by its main door, which gave on to the hall. The Colonel had already turned his attention to Selwyn, who had just started on some equally amusing couplets, so he caught Roger’s eye and made a faint sign to him.

  Roger guessed at once what was in the Colonel’s mind. Through another door, at the opposite end of the room, one of those new innovations, a water-closet, had been installed, and they had all used it within the past hour, so it could not be for that reason that the Ambassador had left them. The Colonel feared that he might be feeling ill, and since he could not without rudeness break away from Selwyn, he wished Roger, as the guest who was best acquainted with the house, to follow Vorontzoff and ascertain what ailed him.

  Getting to his feet, Roger hurried after the Russian, and caught up with him on the far side of the hall. With a quick bow he said politely: ‘Colonel Thursby sent me after your Excellency to inquire your reason for leaving us. I trust that you are not indisposed?’

  The Ambassador smiled, and replied with equal courtesy: ‘Why, no, I thank you. But in the country from which I come a lady occupies the throne. With us, too, the men like to sit over their wine after dinner, but my Imperial mistress is apt to become a trifle bored if left too long in the company of her women. So it has become customary for one of us to leave our companions and place ourselves at her disposal. ’Tis a pleasant courtesy, I think, and in pursuance of it I am about to seek the Lady Georgina.’

  ‘Indeed!’ said Roger, stiffly. ‘In that case pray do not let me detain your Excellency.’

  Whether the Russian was telling the truth or had just thought up the story, he had no idea; but to leave one’s host prematurely for the purpose of getting in first with the ladies, was according to English standards, an abominable piece of rudeness. As Roger bowed again and turned away, he realised to his chagrin that by this skilful move Vorontzoff had secured himself a good hour, in virtually a free field, to develop his pursuit of Georgina. However, there seemed no way in which he could have prevented it, and, angrily consigning all foreigners to the devil, he went back to the dining-room.

  During his short absence the atmosphere had undergone a sudden change and they were now talking politics. In his languid voice Droopy Ned was putting an extremely able advocacy of Pitt’s contention that the East India Company, and not the nation, was liable for the cost of the transport of four additional regiments of troops that had been sent out to India during the war-scare of the previous summer.

  The question had recently been fought most bitterly in the House; not so much on its own account but as a fresh battleground on which to deploy those divergent views about the reconstruction of the Government of India, which had occupied so much of Parliament’s time in the past few years.

  With grandiloquent gestures and melodious voice Fox reiterated several of the most telling arguments that he had employed against the Government; but he failed to shake the stooping, short-sighted young nobleman, and at length he said good-humorously: ‘When may we welcome you to a seat in the House, my Lord? ’Tis the natural habitat of the younger sons of peers, as witness both Mr. Pitt and myself. Your logic and tenacity would do you credit there.’

  ‘I vow you flatter me, Sir.’ Droopy bowed across the table. ‘But even were I competent to play such a part, I should be loath to sacrifice the pursuits that already occupy a great part of my time.’

  ‘And what may they be?’ inquired the Duke, suddenly emerging from his long silence.

  ‘I, er—experiment on myself with rare drugs, and collect antique jewellery.’

  ‘Antiques, eh!’ the Duke grunted. ‘Waste of time and money. When I was taken to Rome as a young man my fool of a tutor argued me into buying some marbles. Feller called Wood, I remember. They’re still in their packing-cases somewhere. I’ve never had time to open the damn things, and don’t suppose I ever shall.’

  Droopy raised his quizzing glass and remarked a trifle acidly: ‘Among such marbles ’tis a fair bet that there are certain of the Roman gods. Since your Grace has elected to keep them hidden from mortal eyes for some thirty years, ’tis clear that you can have little sympathy with my third interest—the study of ancient religions.’

  ‘No, none whatever,’ replied the Duke, with the bluntness of a Dr. Johnson; to whom in fact some people considered that he had a certain resemblance. ‘Not only are such studies futile, but they may even become dangerous; for all Pagan religions were the invention of the Devil.’

  Roger had not been taking much interest in the conversation, as his mind was on Vorontzoff and Georgina; and he was wondering if by this time the Russian had managed to separate her from the other two ladies on some pretext, such as showing him her collection of silver toys, in the far drawing-room, so that he could whisper sweet nothings to her at his leisure. But he now came to the rescue of his friend, by saying:

  ‘Surely your Grace would not lump the religion of the Greeks and Romans with the Devil-worship of more primitive peoples?’

  ‘Sir, I would indeed!’ came the prompt response. ‘For the former developed directly from the latter.’

  ‘Permit me to disagree,’ declared Droopy quickly. ‘And I have spent much time investigating the origins of both.’

  ‘If the rituals of Satanism interest you, my Lord, you should consult George Selwyn on that subject,’ Fox cut in with a laugh. ‘Ask him to tell you how he once raised the Devil.’

  All eyes were immediately turned on the benign, bishop-like face of the elderly wit, who said with rueful smile: ‘It seems that I shall never live down my association with the Hell-Fire Club, although ’tis so long ago. Its heyday was in the late ‘50s, and in ‘62, the year that Dashwood both succeeded to his Barony and became Chancellor of the Exchequer, ’twas disbanded. That is before some of you were born, so I pray you let it rest.’

  ‘Nay, nay!’ cried Colonel Thursby. ‘Everyone knows that you were a leading member of it, and I’ve often meant to inquire of you what really went on there. Tell us, I beg?’

  Except by the Duke, who had retired once more into his smoke screen, Selwyn was pressed on all sides, so after a moment, he said:

  ‘Since you insist, I’ll give you the gist of it. The idea originated with Sir Francis Dashwood one night at White’s. My Lord Sandwich, Charles Churchill,. Bubb-Doddington, Paul Whitehead, Robert Lloyd and myself, were other moving spirits in the affair. We had all become un peu blasé with the easy favours of society women and the ladies of the Italian Opera, so we were seeking a new outlet for our amorous propensities. Dashwood urged the claims of a masquerade with
its dual attraction of dressing-up and the amusement of laying siege to an unknown partner. He proposed that we should form a new order of St. Francis, but differing from the old in that Venus should be the object of our worship; and that the rites and ceremonies to be performed should culminate in a Bacchic orgy.

  ‘For the scene of this frolic, and it started as no more, Dashwood selected the half-ruined Abbey of Medmenham. ’Tis on an island in the Thames ’twixt Marlow and Henley, and is a most lovely spot. Later we took to gathering for a fortnight there each summer. Part of the place was made habitable, the larder and the cellar amply stocked, and a well-known bawd in Southwark brought down a score of well-chosen nymphs. We were all clad as monks, and the women, all heavily veiled, were habited as nuns. When we had dined in the old refectory, we repaired to the ruined church, and later, danced in it. As you can imagine the wine flowed freely, and on many a moonlight night we created merry Hell there.’

  ‘Oh, come, George!’ protested Droopy Ned, ‘there must have been more to it than ordinary debauchery if, as Mr. Fox tells us, you succeeded in raising the Devil.’

  Selwyn looked a trifle sheepish. ’Tis true that an element crept into those meetings which had no connection with our original intentions. Once in our cups the atmosphere of the place and the garments that we wore led us into all sorts of senseless follies. All of us were staunch Protestants, and though I confess it was in bad taste, there were times when we thought it something of a jest to parody the Roman Catholic rituals.’

  Everyone present guessed that Selwyn was referring to the celebration of the Black Mass, but no one liked to question him about it, and Droopy said: ‘There is nothing new in that, either. I have oft’ read accounts of such practices; but ’twould be a genuine novelty to talk with a man who has actually seen His Satanic Majesty. Did he in truth ever appear at your bidding?’

  ‘Not at mine, but at another’s.’

  ‘You saw him, though?’

  ‘Yes, once. At least, if not himself ’twas the very image of him.’

  ‘What looked he like?’

  ‘He was not as tall as myself but with broad shoulders and most powerfully built. He was black and hairy, with a flattened skull and red eyes gleaming from it like live coals.’

  ‘Odds blood!’ exclaimed the Colonel. ‘I marvel that you did not all die of fright.’

  ‘We near did. My scalp still prickles at the recalling of it. Half our company fled into the night and did not stop running till they reached Marlow. The braver of us remained from a natural impulse to protect the women, the greater part of whom had fainted. But after suffering a few moments of stark terror, our courage was well rewarded.’

  ‘How so?’asked Droopy.

  Selwyn smiled. ‘By the discovery that our visitor was quite a friendly fellow and asked no more than to take supper with us.’

  ‘George, you are romancing,’ Droopy laughed. ‘I’ll not believe it.’

  ‘ ’Tis true. I pledge you my word. On closer acquaintance he proved to be a tame chimpanzee hired from a circus. That irrepressible joker John Wilkes was one of our company. He had brought the ape down earlier in the day and hidden him in a box beneath the altar. Then, just as Dashwood in the role of High Priest was about to make the offering to Venus upon it, Wilkes pressed a spring and the creature jumped out.’

  Fox’s corpulent body rocked and the tears came into his eyes with mirth, as he chortled: ‘Stap me! But I’d have given as much as I won at Newmarket last year for a sight of poor Dashwood’s face.’

  ‘Aye, one can laugh over it after all these years,’ said Selwyn soberly. ‘But it taught us a lesson we never forgot; and ’twas the end of the Hell-Fire Club. Wilkes’s ape was too like the real thing for us ever again to play at being monks and nuns, by night, in the ruins of Medmenham Abbey.’

  ‘What a character Wilkes is!’ exclaimed the Colonel. ‘He must have caused more commotions in the past half-century than any man in England.’

  ‘Than any ten,’ cried Fox. ‘The controversy over that article of his in the North Briton, his suspension as a Member of Parliament and arrest, near caused a revolution. For twelve years the electors of Middlesex refused to be represented by any other candidate and repeatedly brought actions aimed at forcing the House to re-accept him. More of our time was spent in losing our tempers over John Wilkes than we gave in succeeding sessions to debating the American war.’

  ‘I wonder you don’t blush to recall it, Charles,’ Selwyn smiled, ‘seeing that the part you played in hounding him, and battling to restrict the liberties of the press, was so contrary to your present principles.’

  The wily politican shrugged. ‘Times change, George. I was then a young, full-blooded aristocrat with little understanding for what is due to the common people. ’Tis strange to think, though, that I was once a King’s man, hot to defend all privilege, whereas now Farmer George has not a subject in his whole realm that he hates more bitterly than myself.’

  ‘In that you have changed places with Wilkes, Sir,’ Roger laughed. ‘For time was when the King counted him his worst enemy; yet I have heard it said that more recently, when Wilkes had to present a petition as Lord Mayor of London, his Majesty said that he had never met a more civil man in all his life.’

  ‘ ’Tis true,’ Fox acknowledged. ‘And there again, see how time’s magic brings the most amazing changes in the affairs of men. For who would have thought that after the publication of Wilkes’ licentious Essay on Women, the straightlaced City Fathers could ever have brought themselves to elect him their Chief Magistrate; or that as a sometime member of the Hell-Fire Club he should now be spending his declining years in the grave role of City Chancellor.’

  ‘The public memory is ever plaguey short,’ remarked Colonel Thursby. ‘His private immoralities have long been submerged in most men’s minds by his vast popularity, and no man of his generation has done more for the preservation of the people’s liberties.’

  Fox nodded. Wilkes and Liberty! For a score of years anyone could raise a mob at a moment’s notice by that cry. I’ll not forget how, after one of my speeches against him in the House, they attacked my coach and rolled me in the mud; or the cheering thousands who drew him in triumph up Ludgate Hill after he was at last released from prison. Yet, to the detriment of my own hopes of reform, a sad apathy seems to have seized upon the public mind of recent years; and there is no longer that stalwart spirit of resistance to the abuses of the Ministerial power that there was when Wilkes defied the King.’

  ‘The reason for that is not far to seek, Sir,’ said Droopy Ned. ‘ ’Twas the excesses committed by the mob during the Gordon riots that put a check upon its power. That hydra-headed monster seized upon the project of extending toleration to the Roman Catholic faith as a pretext for glutting its carnal appetites. All those who saw large parts of London ablaze have since had a feeling of acute distrust for popular movements. The King alone kept his head in the crisis, and insisted on calling out the troops for the rounding up of those hordes of drunken looters; so ’tis but natural that all law-abiding people should have come to look on him as the saviour of society.’

  Roger was still thinking fitfully of Georgina and waiting with some anxiety for the time to pass until they would join the ladies, so that he could put into operation his plan for the discomfiture of the Russian; but he now remarked: ‘It may well be that the brief reign of terror that so horrified everyone in June ’80 will save the country from something far worse in the next decade. Discontent against the old order of things is rife in every country on the continent, particularly France, from whence I returned last autumn after a residence of four years. The middle-classes there are now leagued solidly with the masses in their demand for an end of privilege, and even the nobility themselves have come to regard a revolution as inevitable.’

  Droopy nodded. ‘Thou art right about the popl of London, Roger. Having seen for themselves the horrid violence of which the mob is capable they will be mighty chary of letting it
get loose again.’

  ‘That sounds good sense,’ Fox agreed. ‘And, as far as France is concerned, I would be the last to gainsay Mr. Brook’s contention that we may soon see grave disorders there. The oppression and abuses under which the people of that great nation groan have detached the sympathy of all decent men from its Government; and Louis XVI is far too weak and vacillating a Monarch to succeed in maintaining his authority much longer. The sweeping away of the parasites who batten on the throne is generations overdue, and I’ll be the first to acclaim it. Through its blindness and extravagance the Monarchy itself has long been riding for a fall, and should it be shaken to its foundations, so much the better. The humbling of that pair of wastrels at Versailles may well have excellent repercussions at Windsor.’

  ‘Nay, nay, Sir,’ cried Colonel Thursby. ‘I do protest that there you have allowed your feelings to run away with your sense of comparison. Whatever may be the faults of King George and Queen Charlotte no one could accuse them of being wastrels. Why, all the world knows that they entertain but once a week, and keep so poor a table that even the most spartan Ministers shun an invitation to it.’

  ‘ ’Tis the fact,’ laughed Droopy. ‘Have you not heard the lastest of the Queen’s economies. ’Tis said that throughout the week she saves every crust from the Royal table; then has them stuck like a fence round a mess of cooked apple and served at her Saturday parties under the name of Charlotte Russe.’

  So, for another half-hour, the talk ran on, alternating between the grave and gay and covering another score of subjects, till the Colonel glanced at his watch and said: ‘Gentlemen, ’tis after eight and I am sure some of you must be eager to get to the card-table, so I suggest that we join the ladies.’

  In the drawing-room matters were just as Roger had suspected. Lady Amelia had brought down her needlework, and seated by the fire, was explaining various intricate stitches to the tactful and self-effacing Mrs. Armistead; while, well out of earshot at the far end of the long room, Georgina was lending an attentive ear to the Ambassador.