The Great Roxhythe
Hutchinson, 1922
Setting: London, Paris, The Hague, and other places in the former Holland
Time: 1668 – 1685, during the reigns of Charles II and James II
AS ONE OF six “suppressed” novels that Georgette Heyer (eventually) withdrew from publication, I was very much looking forward to reading The Great Roxhythe. After all, four of the other five novels that Heyer so disliked were the contemporaries I, conversely, very much liked – or, at least, admired – so much, and so I was very curious to see if her judgment, in this case, was similarly harsh.
And honestly, I just don’t know. There is a lot in this book that is very interesting, especially the relationship that is at its heart. This is not a romance in the modern sense at all, not even an historical romance. It is rather more a book in the vein of Scott or, to note an author I’ve actually read, Cervantes, kind of a fantastical retelling of history centering on a fascinating, though probably doomed, hero.
That hero, here, is the titular Roxhythe, who is the Marquis thereof, and is a trusted adviser and emissary of King Charles II of England (1630 – 1685). Charles II has extravagant tastes and needs money, so he sends Roxhythe to try to make a deal with other European heads of state, promising them less war and more marriages with his relatives if they will just give him some cash. Basically, he’s selling, and selling out, his country and his family for gold.
No wonder Charles II wasn’t the “bonnie” one, after all.
Lord Roxhythe is a clever, cunning man who surely can’t approve of any of this, but he’s fanatically obsessed with Charles and so agrees to seek financial aid for his beloved King. Pretty soon, Roxhythe gets himself his own fanatical obsessive, the diligent and competent Christopher, who acts as his assistant but who is kept out of some of the more potentially treasonous of Roxhythe’s activities.
There are other side plots and several intriguing ladies introduced into the mix, as well as jealous husbands and suspicious brothers and the like, and there is a lot of history presented in a pretty accessible way, but the main action is the bro-love triangle of Charles/Roxhythe/Christopher. Their interactions are fascinating – in a modern romance, Roxhythe would be a woman and Charles and Christopher would be the swains from different backgrounds and levels of wealth who want her for their own. Or, they’d all still be male but it would be an M/M romance novel, and I’m pretty sure I’ve read this one many times, just set in far different time periods. Here, it’s all framed as pure platonic mancrushes and the heightened emotions to which all three succumb at times is treated as totally normal among dudes. Men really knew how to talk it out in Tudor times, it seems.
Don’t get me wrong, The Great Roxhythe isn’t a great book. It’s fine, it’s even occasionally pretty good, especially in Roxhythe’s cutting dialogue and in the pinpoint accuracy with which the period, especially in its religious extremism, is recreated—but it is also melodramatic and, at times, quite dull. However, its conclusion came at me out of almost nowhere, and was not at all what I was expecting from the author of The Black Moth, so that was a pleasant/unpleasant surprise, and for all that it’s not a book I would contemplate reading again, ever (unlike The Black Moth), I am very glad I read it. And I will be amazing at the next trivia night I go to if there are any questions about 17th century European socio-politics.
So there we are. Two books into this self-imposed reading of historical fiction, a genre I have traditionally avoided at almost all costs, and I am in no way regretting my decision. Next up is Powder and Patch, which I believe is a return to the kind of historical romance I expected from this project. I’m strangely looking forward to it.
Oh, and back to The Great Roxhythe: in Heyer Society, our editor Rachel Hyland does her Reading Heyer thing on the book, and it is magnificent. You do not have to have read the book to read her commentary, though if you’re going to read the book, definitely read the commentary after, like I did. And then laugh your ass off even while you learn that apparently it’s pronounced “Rocks-height.”
Because of course it is.
FAVOURITE NEW WORD: “Odso!” Another fun exclamation, and, it turns out, a euphemism for “God!” As, indeed, is zounds, which is short for “God’s wounds.” The more you know.
HISTORY LEARNED: So much! Possibly too much. But especially all about the Secret Treaty of Dover, which allied England and France without bothering to inform the English Parliament or people, and even more especially about the many, many mistresses of both Charles II and Louis XIV. The fact that there is even a term for the French king’s “head mistress” – maîtresse-en-titre – is just unsettling.
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Maura Tan was born in Zanzibar, grew up in Morocco and lives in Singapore, where she is currently studying for her third degree in Contemporary Literature.
