The Rape Of Venice

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'Peace, 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.

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