The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

by Dennis Wheatley

  Wilberforce had been Pitt’s contemporary at Cambridge, and had later become his closest personal friend. As the member for Hull, Wilberforce had been one of the staunchest supporters of Pitt’s first administration, and during those difficult times the two had been almost inseparable; spending most of their evenings at Goostree’s Club, which had been founded by Pitt’s friends in opposition to Brooks, and their week-ends at Wilberforce’s house on Wimbledon Common, where Pitt had a room always kept ready for him. In ‘84-’85 Wilberforce had made a long tour abroad, and returned from it with a resolution to lead henceforth a strictly religious life, so in recent years he had withdrawn somewhat from party politics to give more of his time to social reform. His first efforts had been in the direction of amending the criminal law and the suppression of blasphemous and indecent publications; but, only a few months earlier, while seated meditating one day under an oak in Holwood Park, he had come to a definite decision; to devote the rest of his life to the abolition of the Slave Trade.

  Although only twenty-eight he had, like his illustrious friend, long been a national figure, so, as Roger bowed, he said: ‘Mr. Wilberforce’s moving eloquence and good works are alike well known to me.’

  ‘I thank you, sir.’ Wilberforce inclined his head. ‘I pray you forgive my not rising, but since January I have been the victim of a most vicious illness; and am here today only to make my adieus to Mr. Pitt before leaving for Bath in the hope of deriving some benefits from its waters.’

  Pitt gave him an anxious look. ‘I trust that the fatigue you have sustained in coming here will not affect you adversely.’

  ‘Nay. I had to come; and your assurance that you will bring the first measure forward during the next session, should I be unable to do so, are better medicine than any with which a doctor could provide me.’

  Feeling that he might have interrupted a discussion on political business, Roger said: ‘Gentlemen, I fear my arrival is inopportune. Permit me to retire and walk a while in these lovely grounds, until a more appropriate moment.’

  With a wave of his slender hand Pitt dismissed the suggestion. ‘Our business is finished, and alas, Mr. Wilberforce is only awaiting his carriage to carry him back to Wimbledon.’ Then turning to his sick friend he added: ‘Since ’twas I who first persuaded you that parliamentary action would be far more efficacious against the slave traders than any appeal to the sentiment of the nation, ’tis but fair that I should champion the cause in your absence.’

  ‘ ’Twill add to your difficulties, and bring much odium on you from certain quarters,’ Wilberforce said frankly.

  ‘I know it. The City of London has never cared for aught save to keep its purse well lined. The merchants of Bristol and Liverpool will raise the devil; and the planters in the sugar-isles will allege that such measures must bring ruin to the nation. But the cause is just; so be of good cheer. I count our first measure as good as already carried.’

  ‘Ah, Billy.’ Wilberforce shook his head a little dubiously. ‘You were always an optimist. You said the very same in eighty-five, before you brought forward your Bill for winning the friendship of the Irish, and once and for all eliminating the grounds for their centuries-old grievances against us. And you were up against the same thing there; the inherent greed of the British merchants, and the middle-classes, mobilised against you by such news sheets as the Morning Chronicle.’

  Pitt shrugged. ‘ ’Twas, I suppose, too much to expect that such folk could yet have absorbed Adam Smith’s great doctrine, that States which throw down their customs barriers become effectually part of the same body, and both benefit in consequence. Look at the admirable effect our recent Commercial Treaty with France is already having. Yet Ireland is nearer, and should be dearer to us. ’Twas my fondest ambition to make the two countries one, and it rankles with me still that my plan was brought to nought by the greed and self interest of a small minority in our midst.’

  ‘Were not the Irish much to blame themselves, Sir?’ Roger hazarded. ‘As I recall it, your generous offer to open our markets freely to their goods would have assured them a great increase of wealth, from the fact that their labour is so much cheaper than ours; yet they boggled over your one condition, that they should assist in their own defence by making a modest annual contribution to the upkeep of the Royal Navy.’

  ‘You are right, Mr. Brook, in that certain meaner spirits fastened upon the point; and that the Bill was thrown out in the Dublin Parliament after having passed its first reading at Westminster. Grattan and Flood there, and Burke and Sheridan here, all most short-sightedly opposed these measures which I so earnestly desired to bring about for the benefit of their own country. Yet the real cause of my defeat, was the determination of powerful factions in both Kingdoms to wreck my proposals, by representing each concession made to the sister-island as an injury or insult to the other.’

  ‘ ’Tis true,’ Wilberforce agreed. ‘ ’Twas Fox and his friends who whipped up the commercial interests against you, by a campaign of slander and misrepresentation, waged in both countries with a vigour worthy of a better cause. I pray that the same may not be the case …’

  He broke off as he caught sight of a servant approaching from the house to announce that his carriage was now in readiness.

  ‘Have no fears on that score; and think only of getting well again,’ Pitt admonished him, as he tenderly helped him to his feet. ‘The question of Abolition is solely a humanitarian one, and we know already that on this great issue Fox and Burke are both with us.’

  ‘Aye; and The Lord!’ cried Wilberforce, with shining eyes. ‘For are not the poor Negroes His children every wit as much as ourselves? May His blessing be upon you in all things, Billy; and on you, Mr. Brook.’

  With a word of thanks Roger offered his arm and assisted Pitt to support the invalid to his carriage. When he was settled comfortably in it the farewells were said, and at an easy pace it drove away. As the other two stood looking after it, Pitt said:

  ‘Now there goes a true Saint; for so great-hearted is he that even the worst of sinners feels no awkwardness in his company. But come, Mr. Brook, let us return to the garden. I crave your indulgence to finish planting my tree; but, if, meanwhile, you will tell me to what I owe the pleasure of this visit, I vow to you that I shall not lose a single word of your discourse.’

  ‘ ’Tis soon told, Sir. Last November, after my return from Holland, you were good enough to say that you might be able to find me some employment of a confidential nature, which would necessitate travelling abroad.’

  ‘I remember the occasion perfectly; and, you were then so eager for it, I find it surprising that you have not applied to me before.’

  The statement implied a question; and Roger had already learned that to win and hold the Prime Minister’s esteem one must be frank, brief and to the point; so he said: ‘I had meant to approach you sooner, but I got caught up in a love-affair.’

  Pitt looked at him curiously. ‘The early twenties are the years when the foundations of great careers are laid. I had judged you too ambitious to sacrifice six months at this period of your life to such a purpose, however bright the lady’s eyes.’

  ‘ ’Twas worth it,’ said Roger simply.

  ‘Since you can say that with such conviction you must be right, and I’ll confess to envying you.’ Pitt smiled. ‘You see, I have never had a love-affair. ’Tis not that the fair sex lacks attraction for me, but that, somehow, on such occasions as I have felt the inclination, I have never been able to give the time to following the matter up.’

  ‘Your loss has been the nation’s gain, Sir.’

  ‘You are kind to put it so, rather than to chide me with sacrificing the humanities to my ambitions. But reverting to yourself. I recall the details of our conversation now, and realise that your half-year’s cessation from wordly striving is not out of keeping with your character. You are intolerant of discipline, and have no desire for public office or to make a career for yourself in one of the Services. Your a
mbition is rather to indulge your tastes for travel and the society of cultured people; but to do that in comfort you need a greater income than the three hundred a year your father gives you. The assets you have to offer are a good presence, a ready tongue and pen, fluent Latin and French, some Greek and a smattering of German; a specialised knowledge of French foreign policy and the affairs of the Dutch Netherlands; sufficient industry to have held an arduous secretarial post and sufficient courage to wield a pretty blade effectively. Am I right?’

  ‘Apart from the fact that in some respects you flatter me, Sir, I marvel at the excellence of your memory.’

  They had reached the little tree, and Roger held it steady while Pitt completed the filling-in of the earth about its roots, as he went on thoughtfully: ‘The thing I had in mind for you was a somewhat nebulous post as my personal agent on the continent. Her Majesty’s diplomatic representatives are, on the whole, a very able body of men; but their facilities for obtaining information are limited to what they can pick up themselves and what their paid spies can obtain for them. In the first case they are at a natural disadvantage from their obvious connection with the Court of St. James, and in the second, the type of person they employ, while well enough for counting the number of ships ready for war in a potential enemy’s dockyard, are rarely of the social status to probe out diplomatic secrets at a foreign court.’

  ‘You propose that I should become a professional spy,’ Roger said bluntly.

  ‘Yes. Does the idea offend you?’

  Roger considered for a moment. The idea of a gentleman soiling his hands with such work was entirely against the canons of the age. On the other hand the offer would enable him to lead the type of life he desired, unfettered by any routine drudgery or subservience to a possibly uncongenial master.

  Seeing his hesitation, Pitt added: ‘After our last interview I made inquiries about you, and learned that, quite apart from your spectacular coup concerning French intentions in the United Provinces, your father had already placed you in touch with our collator of secret information, Mr. Gilbert Maxwell; and that you had sent him valuable data regarding both the new fortifications at Cherbourg and Monsieur de la Peyrouse’s expedition to New Zealand. Since you did so without instructions from anybody, why should you not continue such activities, but to a far more useful tune from receiving guidance as to the matters about which it is most urgent that we should know?’

  ‘I acted spontaneously in the first instance, and later refused all payment for my small services; whereas your proposal, Sir, would place me on a very different footing.’

  ‘True. Yet it is clear that you possess both the ability and temperament to serve your country in this manner. If you were a young man of fortune I would ask you to do so out of patriotism, and I’ve little doubt but that you would agree. As you are not, I merely propose to make good the deficiency to an extent which would enable you to cut a decent figure at the foreign Courts; since unless you can do that, you are likely to be of little value to me.’

  Roger smiled. ‘Your arguments are well designed to dissipate my scruples, Sir.’

  ‘Let me clinch the matter then, by saying that, can you but uncover to us once every few years secrets as valuable as that which you brought home last autumn, I shall count you no less an asset to the nation than a regiment of foot or a ninety-four gun ship.’

  ‘Then I am your man, and will do my damnest to deserve your good opinion of me.’

  The tree was planted and the earth around it well stamped down. Pitt was perspiring slightly, for he was far from strong and any physical exertion soon took its toll of him. As he mopped his high forehead he said: ‘Let us return to the house and take a glass of Shrub after our exertions. Then I will out line to you my views on the foreign policy that Britain should pursue. You’ll stay to dinner, of course?’

  ‘You are most kind, Sir,’ Roger replied, and as they walked back across the grass he marvelled that anyone could regard the tall, thin Prime Minister as cold, aloof and boorish.

  It was true that, being a born aristocrat, he counted the applause or scorn of the mob as of so little moment that when he drove through the streets he kept his head held superciliously high, and would not even vouchsafe a nod to his most ardent supporters. It was also true that, as a child and youth, his extreme precocity had debarred him from enjoying the society of young people of his own age, so that he had never succeeded in overcoming a certain awkwardness of manner in mixed company. His major fault, if fault it was, but also his greatest strength, lay in his unquestioning belief that he alone was capable of guiding Britain’s destinies to her best advantage. At the early age of seven, on learning that his great father had been raised to the Peerage, he had declared that ‘he was glad that he was not the eldest son, but that he would still be able to serve his country in the House of Commons like papa; and this superb self-confidence, mistaken by lesser men for vanity, had earned him many enemies. But he was by nature kindly, tolerant and generous; and in the scant leisure that he allowed himself for relaxation he made a charming host and most stimulating companion.

  Over the spiral-stemmed glasses of their orange-flavoured cordial Pitt made his beliefs and ambitions clear.

  ‘Mr. Brook,’ he said. ‘I have never subscribed to the doctrine that wars are a necessary evil. In every age they have brought famine, desolation, pestilence and death to the common people, whose only desire is to be left to till their land and go about their usual avocations in peace. That the rulers and nobility of the stronger nations have, in the past, profited by waging war upon their weaker neighbours, I will admit. To them has gone the captured lands and the loot of despoiled cities; but the era in which war offered, even to the upper classes, something of the mixed attractions of a bloody gamble and a glorified hunt, has gone for ever.

  ‘With the passage of time each succeeding European convulsion has resulted in a more thorough mobilisation of the resources of the countries involved. In medieval times the feudal lords went out to battle taking only their personal retainers and a modest percentage of their serfs; agriculture and commerce were able to continue almost undisturbed. Today matters are very different. A nation at war soon becomes affected in all its parts and the strain of conflict eats so deeply into its vitals that whether it emerge as victor or vanquished it is still a loser. With the growth of industrialism, and our dependence on foreign markets for raw materials and supplies, this tendency must continue to increase; until a war of only a few years’ duration between two great nations will suffice to bring starvation and bankruptcy to both. Therefore, we must seek by every means in our power, short of bowing our necks to a foreign yoke, to avoid wars in the future. And more; wherever we can, by offers of meditation or threats of intervention, seek to prevent hostilities breaking out between other nations.’

  ‘ ’Tis a great concern, Sir; and no one could dispute the soundness of your reasoning,’ Roger agreed.

  ‘Time,’ Pitt went on, ‘is the governing factor in all diplomacy designed to prevent war. ’Tis sudden, unexpected moves, leading to ill-considered counter moves, that inflame the tempers of nations and result in armed hostilities. Given early intelligence of the secret intentions of a foreign power there is time to consider matters calmly, and exercise a restraining influence before the potential aggressor feels that he has gone so far that he cannot turn back without loss of face. ’Tis the province of the Foreign Department to procure for us that information, but as it oft lies hid in the cabinets of Kings ’tis far from easy to come by. Your province, then, will be to supplement their efforts in special cases. But I pray you, from this moment on, to carry engraved upon your heart the prime object which will apply to all your journeyings. Information upon military matters, internal affairs, the dispositions of high personages, and Court intrigues, will always be of value; but you should not expose yourself to risk in order to obtain any of these things. Your task is to ferret out for me such secret ambitions of the sovereigns and their advisors, as might jeopar
dise the peace of Europe; and, wherever you are able, to advise me on such measures as you feel would assist in the preservation of a balance of power, so that steps can be taken in time to prevent these ambitions leading to an outbreak of hostilities’.

  Roger made a little grimace. ‘I am most sensible of the compliment you pay me, Sir, in charging me with so great an undertaking; but I fear you rate my powers over-high.’

  ‘Nay, Mr. Brook, I am the best judge of that. Last summer you made no small contribution to saving us from a war, on this same principle that a stitch in time saves nine. The country is still in your debt on that account; so if our Secret Service funds become the poorer by a thousand guineas, from maintaining you for some months in St. Petersburg without result, you’ll have no cause to blame yourself but may count it as a holiday already earned.’

  ‘St. Petersburg!’

  ‘Yes. ’Tis there that I have it in mind to send you; for Russia now provides the greatest enigma in the European scene. Let us briefly review it, and you will see why I should choose the Court of the Czarina Catherine, rather than another, for your first foray.’

  Pitt refilled the glasses and went on quietly. ‘When I first took office Britain was entirely isolated. Every power in Europe that counted had been but recently either in active war or armed neutrality against us. The major threat to our survival still seemed to come from France and she, through the strong influence of Queen Marie Antoinette, was firmly allied to Austria. In view of Frederick the Great’s inherent animus against Austria it seemed that Prussia should be our natural ally, so I made appropriate overtures to “old sour mug”, as his own Berliners termed him. He was already half-senile, and he allowed his secret hatred of England to weigh more with him than his best interests, so he flouted me; but time has removed him from my path.’

  ‘And his successor has proved more amenable.’