The action resumes with our narrator explaining the purpose of the epigraphs he has stuck at the top of each chapter. This is odd because the use of epigraphs was well-established by the time Scott writes this. He certainly makes heavy use of them but he is not an innovator in this regard.
So why the explanation? I can think of two explanations, which isn't to say there may not be others. First it seems to me that young Frank might be still so deeply attached to poetry and the heroic values therein that he continues to frame this account of his experience with poetry.
The second explanation, which doesn't necessarily exclude the first, is that he is simply lying to us and himself. Huh? Well, look at the epigraph from Chapter III:
The slack sail shifts from side to side,Sounds pretty bleak wouldn't you say? And yet, after a few gestures in the direction of his lostness, our narrator quickly gets swept up in the romance of the voyage he is about to undertake. The old man cannot forget how good it felt to be the young man off to the north country. Off to a land he already knew to be rife with highwaymen and political sedition and he can't wait to get there.
The boat, untrimm'd, admits the tide,
Borne down, adrift, at random tost,
The oar breaks short, the rudder lost.
Gay's Fables
On the way he finds himself in the company of a man named Morris who is steeped in the same tales but not to romantic effect. Poor Morris lives in constant fear of being robbed. My Grandmother used to say "Are you bragging or complaining?" And this charge fits Morris like a glove. He both brags of his greater experience with danger and complains of the risks and both aspects are more the product of his imagination than anything he has really experienced. Frank, against his better judgment, teases the man mercilessly.
Then he gets to a pub where the landlord is entertaining for the Sabbath and he and Morris are joined by other guests one of whom is particularly notable.
Okay, what I am going to tell you next may seem like a spoiler but it is not. I am going to tell you something that every red-blooded boy of the early 19th century already knew when he sat down to read this book.
Let me give you a modern example first. If you approach were to approach a boy in North America today and read him story and at one point is introduced, without any explanation, the millionaire Bruce Wayne who lives in Gotham City. You would do so being absolutely confident that this boy would know instantly that this is Batman you are talking about. Okay, the cattleman Mr. Campbell, a Scotsman traveling in the border country is Rob Roy. Everyone knew that. And I'm not spoiling it for you because and the clever irony Sir Walter is indulging in for quite a few chapters to come is letting us see how people around Mr. Campbell innocently interact with the man with no idea of who he really is. In chapter 4 we see how poor Morris, scared by Frank, throws himself in the arms of the Scotch Robin Hood asking him to protect him on his voyage north.
Mr. Campbell is canny lad. In front of witness he very harshly rebuffs Morris. Later he ..., well, what happens after that we will learn in later chapter.
Meanwhile our Hero is about to meet his heroine. He is going to meet her when he encounters a fox hunt that she is taking part in. Okay, I bet you can close your eyes and conjure up an image to go with that can't you?
Well, that image is partly correct. The setting of Rob Roy has been stolen over and over again. I remember seeing episode of The Monkees that borrowed liberally from the image of Obaldistone Hall and its occupants. Anyone who remembers the series Flambards, which was one the first if not the very first big hit for Masterpiece Theater will see so many similarities between the setting and set up for that novel and this one as to wonder why KM Peyton wasn't required to pay royalties to the estate of Sir Walter Scott. Even my favourite Brideshead Revisited owes a huge debt to Rob Roy.
But there is also one huge difference that may surprise you. All those other authors saw the fox hunting nobility as a genteel and sophisticated class. They might have been decadent, and morally bankrupt but they were very well-spoken, beautifully dressed, and their houses beautifully decorated as they walked and rode about them being morally bankrupt. Sir Walter doesn't see things quite that way. Fox hunting holds no romance for him.
I'll talk about that on
The first post in this thread is here.
Warning: wet blanket comment
ReplyDeleteYou may be right that "everyone knows" that Mr. Campbell is, in fact, RR, but I did not. Having just reached the end of chapter 4, I'll admit that I wondered about the identify of the charismatic Scot but I wasn't 100 percent sure. Regardless, having never read Scott before and knowing absolutely nothing about this book, I had hoped to figure things out for myself.
On a related note, Sir Walter hasn't yet identified Mr. Morris by name by the end of the end of chapter 4. In fact, he rather goes out of his way not to, calling him "my fellow traveller" and (if we didn't get the point) clarifying the description "edging his chair" with "(I should have said portmanteau)." Moreover, right near the end of c4, Franks says to Mr. Campbell, "That gentleman is no friend of mine but an acquaintance whom I picked up on the road. I know neither his name nor business..."
Maybe you have no intention to go through the book as if you were a new reader. No problem. I'll just read with caution.
All I can say is that I'll try and justify what I have done by showing that we get more pleasure out of the story in upcoming chapters by knowing than we would by not knowing.
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