The Rape of Venice
Read The Rape of Venice Online
Authors: Dennis Wheatley
Dennis Wheatley
Edited by Miranda Vaughan Jones
For
my good friend
BOB LUSTY
21 The Wrong Side of the Fence
Dennis Wheatley was my grandfather. He only had one child, my father Anthony, from his first marriage to Nancy Robinson. Nancy was the youngest in a large family of ten Robinson children and she had a wonderful zest for life and a gaiety about her that I much admired as a boy brought up in the dull Seventies. Thinking about it now, I suspect that I was drawn to a young Ginny Hewett, a similarly bubbly character, and now my wife of 27 years, because she resembled Nancy in many ways.
As grandparents, Dennis and Nancy were very different. Nancy's visits would fill the house with laughter and mischievous gossip, while Dennis and his second wife Joan would descend like minor royalty, all children expected to behave. Each held court in their own way but Dennis was the famous one with the famous friends and the famous stories.
There is something of the fantasist in every storyteller, and most novelists writing thrillers see themselves in their heroes. However, only a handful can claim to have been involved in actual daring-do. Dennis saw action both at the Front, in the First World War, and behind a desk in the Second. His involvement informed his writing and his stories, even those based on historical events, held a notable veracity that only the life-experienced novelist can obtain. I think it was this element that added the important plausibility to his writing. This appealed to his legions of readers who were in that middle ground of fiction, not looking for pure fantasy nor dry fact, but something exciting, extraordinary, possible and even probable.
There were three key characters that Dennis created over the years: The Duc de Richleau, Gregory Sallust and Roger Brook. The first de Richleau stories were set in the years between the wars, when Dennis had started writing. Many of the Sallust stories were written in the early days of the Second World War, shortly before Dennis joined the Joint Planning Staff inWhitehall, and Brook was cast in the time of the French Revolution, a period that particularly fascinated him.
He is probably always going to be associated with Black Magic first and foremost, and it's true that he plugged it hard because sales were always good for those books. However, it's important to remember that he only wrote elevenBlack Magic novels out of more than sixty bestsellers, and readers were just as keen on his other stories. In fact, invariably when I meet people who ask if there is any connection, they tell me that they read âall his books'.
Dennis had a full and eventful life, even by the standards of the era he grew up in. He was expelled from Dulwich College and sent to a floating navel run school, HMS Worcester. The conditions on this extraordinary ship were Dickensian. He survived it, and briefly enjoyed London at the pinnacle of the Empire before war was declared and the fun ended. That sort of fun would never be seen again.
He went into business after the First World War, succeeded and failed, and stumbled into writing. It proved to be his calling. Immediate success opened up the opportunity to read and travel, fueling yet more stories and thrilling his growing band of followers.
He had an extraordinary World War II, being one of the first people to be recruited into the select team which dreamed up the deception plans to cover some of the major events of the war such as Operation Torch, Operation Mincemeat and the D-Day landings. Here he became familiar with not only the people at the very top of the war effort, but also a young Commander Ian Fleming, who was later to write the James Bond novels. There are indeed those who have suggested that Gregory Sallust was one of James Bond's precursors.
The aftermath of the war saw Dennis grow in stature and fame. He settled in his beautiful Georgian house in Lymington surrounded by beautiful things. He knew how to live well, perhaps without regard for his health. He hated exercise, smoked, drank and wrote. Today he would have been bullied by wife and children and friends into giving up these habits and changing his lifestyle, but I'm not sure he would have given in. Maybe like me, he would simply find a quiet place.
Dominic Wheatley, 2013
The Shape of Things to Come
âPeace, Mr. Brook; peace. It is that the nation needs, and must soon have if we are to escape anarchy and total ruin.'
The speaker was William Pitt the younger, on a sunny morning in June 1796. He was then only thirty-seven, but looked far older, as for thirteen years he had been Prime Minister to King George III and during them had worked himself to a shadow.
Tall, thin, worn-looking, and dressed very plainly in grey, only his eyes and autocratic manner indicated the iron will which had enabled him for so long to dominate the political scene and guide the destinies of Britain.
As he spoke, his sparse fairish hair, now prematurely grey, was ruffled slightly by a gentle breeze, for he was standing on the battlements of Walmer Castle: a residence he sometimes occupied by virtue of his office as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports.
His companion cut a very different figure. Roger Brook was twenty-eight, and the sight of him would have gladdened any woman's heart. His deep blue eyes, prominent nose, firm mouth and aggressive chin were indications of the intelligence, resource and resolution which had made him Mr. Pitt's most successful secret agent during the French Revolution. His slim hips were encased in dove-grey breeches and his broad shoulders in a royal blue coat. These, with a gaily flowered waistcoat and the sparkling jewel in his cravat, were the outward expression of his cheerful nature, while the easy grace with which he carried himself showed him to be unassuming but self-confident.
The association between the two men had lasted close on ten years; during them Roger had not only sent the Prime Minister
secret reports from many countries but he had more than once been vested with Ambassadorial powers and, as a reward for special services, been given the lucrative appointment of Governor of Martinique.
Like his master, who had become Chancellor of the Exchequer at the age of twenty-three, he had an old head on young shoulders. Mr. Pitt had no secrets from him and gave considerable weight to his opinions, because his long residence abroad had brought him into personal contact with many foreign royalties and statesmen and given him an exceptional knowledge of the policies they were likely to pursue.
In consequence, he replied with the candour of the privileged: âYou had best make up your mind to it, Sir, that we'll get no peace with honour till France is exhausted; and as yet she is far from that.'
âI disagree,' the Prime Minister retorted sharply. âShe cannot support for much longer the burden she has been carrying. It is now over four years since the Monarchist Coalition was formed against her. Having had to wage war for so long, and for most of that time on all her frontiers simultaneously, must have placed an intolerable strain on her resources and her people.'
âNo worse than that sustained by Britain when she stood alone against a world in arms during the seven years of war that preceded the Peace of '83.'
The situations are not comparable. Our people were then united behind a stable Government and could draw fortitude from their Christian faith. We had great accumulated wealth, the mastery of the seas and, above all the strength inherent in centuries-old traditions of service, orderliness and discipline. France, on the other hand, is still in the throes of the greatest upheaval that has afflicted any nation in modern times. For seven years she has been a prey to anarchy and atheism. Every stabilising factor in the nation has been destroyed, her riches squandered and her commerce ruined. Her collapse is inevitable.'
Roger shrugged. âI regard it as less likely now than it was in '93; or even this time last year. Look what has happened to your mighty Coalition. Those greedy Prussians gained nothing by transferring their army to the East. Catherine of Russia saw to that. But it does not alter the fact that in the hope of being a bigger share in the final partition of Poland they betrayed us by making a separate peace. Their treachery led to the collapse
of Holland, and last summer Spain, too, was compelled to sue for terms. Now, the recent defeats of the Piedmontese have forced sturdy old King Victor Armadeus out of the war. What is there left? Only Austria and ourselves.'
âI know, I know!' Mr. Pitt waved an impatient hand. âThe defection or defeat of so many of our allies is most deplorable. But it is not now upon military success that I pin my hopes. It is on France's internal condition. With the overthrow of the Monarchy her whole taxation structure fell to pieces. Her government of brigands succeeded in carrying on only by forced loans, the wholesale pillage of private property, and the issue of paper currency secured on the lands confiscated from the nobles and the church. The value of these
assignats
has steadily fallen until now they are scarce worth the paper they are printed on. Armies, even if they are not paid, must be fed, equipped and munitioned if they are to continue fighting, and reports I have received show France's financial situation to have become positively desperate. It is that which makes me confident that the time cannot be far distant when we shall be able to bring her to terms.'
From under the long lashes that many a girl had envied, Roger gave his master an uneasy glance. He had a considerable affection and great admiration for him, but was not blinded to his shortcomings by his abilities.
Beneath the Prime Minister's haughty manner there lay a kindly disposition and his awkwardness with strangers was due only to shyness. He was a brilliant speaker, an able administrator, and a skilful diplomat; but he hated war and everything to do with it. In consequence, although he showed high courage in the leadership of the nation, his lack of military knowledge and grasp of strategy were severe handicaps in the struggle against France. Moreover, so eager was he for a restoration of peace that he allowed his judgment to be clouded by that desire. On the other hand, in the field of finance he was supreme, and after the last great war had in a few years brought Britain back from near bankruptcy to a marvellous prosperity. It was this which made Roger hesitate to challenge him on his strongest ground. Instead he said: