Robert Trotter's 'Derwentwater' 1825

 

First edition - 1825

 
 

I am not sure where to begin with this review; I suppose I could do no better than quote the author's first sentence in his Preface: This Tale is partly historical and partly romantic. Well, what should have been a straightforward account of the Jacobite Rising in 1715 and its march through Carlisle to Preston is mangled by some very odd 'romance'. To put it more simply - Robert Trotter has no idea on how to compose a novel. Luckily, his effort lasts for only 103 pages. The rest of the Volume, pages 108-272, is taken up with an Appendix which, again to quote Trotter, is formed from a large mass of materials collected for a work on heraldry, for which I am indebted to Nisbet, Douglas, and others... I am afraid, I merely glanced through the pages, which consisted of a list of names with a paragraph or paragraphs about who they were and their ancestry; these had little, if anything, to do with the preceding work of semi-fiction.

The 3rd Earl of Derwentwater

Essentially Trotter tries to tell the tale of James Radclyffe, 3rd Earl of Derwentwater, his involvement in the 1715 Rebellion and his marriage to Eliza Brougham, daughter and heiress of the stern Sir Lionel of Brougham Castle near Carlisle. This is not before (an entirely fictitious) dastardly villain, Sodom De Lasslove, attempts to seduce her and then ends up murdering all in his path on the way to, and at, Preston. He laughs, loud and horribly, whenever he can; this is not surprising, though he boasted of his name and family, he was of obscure birth and contaminated blood. He resembled a sand-glass, small in the middle and thick at both ends, with light hair and a long nose. Sir John Tenniel or Mervyn Peake could have drawn him well.

At one stage, Trotter simply copies out a long piece from a Town Directory or Gazetteer of Preston, with no comment to follow! There is an inevitable ghostly appearance (why do all Scottish novels of this period have to have spectres?). There is nothing more to say! It is the poorest novel I have read so far; the characters are badly drawn and any coherence to the narrative does not exist. I return with some relief to Sir Walter next, and his 'Woodstock'.