The title of "Rob Roy" was suggested by Constable, the
publisher, who one day informed the novelist that the name of
the hero would be the best possible name for the book. "Nay,"
answered Scott, "never let me have to write up to a name. You
know well that I have generally adopted a title that told
nothing." But the bookseller persevered and in the end Sir
Walter's scruples gave way. "Rob Roy," by the author of
"Waverley," was published on December 31, 1817, and although
it is not among the greatest of Scott's novels, it certainly
figures among his next best. It is crowded with incident and
adventure, and the character of Rob Roy himself will last as
long as English literature. Diana Vernon, too, is perhaps the
most attractive and surely-drawn in all Scott's gallery of
portraits of distinguished women. "Rob Roy" was dramatised
shortly after its appearance in book form; Scott himself first
witnessed a performance of it at Edinburgh on February 15,
1819, the same company later appearing in it at Glasgow before
George IV.
_I.--I Meet Diana Vernon_
Early in the eighteenth century, when I, Frank Osbaldistone, was a youth
of twenty, I was hastily summoned from Bordeaux, where, in a mercantile
house, I was, as my father trusted, being initiated into the mysteries
of commerce. As a matter of fact, my principal attention had been
dedicated to literature and manly exercises.
In an evil hour, my father had received my letter, containing my
eloquent and detailed apology for declining a place in the firm, and I
was summoned home in all haste, his chief ambition being that I should
succeed, not merely to his fortune, but to the views and plans by which
he imagined he could extend and perpetuate that wealthy inheritance. I
did not understand how deeply my father's happiness was involved, and
with something of his own pertinacity, had formed a determination
precisely contrary, not conceiving that I should increase my own
happiness by augmenting a fortune which I believed already sufficient.
My father cut the matter short; when he was my age, his father had
turned him out, and settled his legal inheritance on his younger
brother; and one of that brother's sons should take my place, if I
crossed him any further.
At the end of the month he gave me to think the matter over, I found
myself on the road to York, on a reasonably good horse, with fifty
guineas in my pocket, travelling, as it would seem, for the purpose of
assisting in the adoption of a successor to myself in my father's house
and favour; he having decided that I should pay a visit to my uncle, and
stay at Osbaldistone Hall, till I should receive further instructions.
There had been such unexpected ease in the way in which my father had
slipt the knot usually esteemed the strongest that binds society
together, and let me depart as a sort of outcast from his family, that
strangely lessened my self-confidence. The Muse, too,--the very coquette
that had led me into this wilderness--deserted me, and I should have
been reduced to an uncomfortable state of dullness had it not been for
the conversation of strangers who chanced to pass the same way. One poor
man with whom I travelled a day and a half, and whose name was Morris,
afforded me most amusement. He had upon his pillion a very small, but
apparently a very weighty portmanteau, which he would never trust out of
his immediate care; and all his conversation was of unfortunate
travellers who had fallen among thieves. He wrought himself into a fever
of apprehension by the progress of his own narratives, and occasionally
eyed me with doubt and suspicion, too ludicrous to be offensive. I found
amusement in alternately exciting and lulling to sleep the causeless
fears of my timorous companion, who tried in vain to induce a Scotchman
with whom we dined in Darlington to ride with him, because the landlord
informed us "that for as peaceable a gentleman as Mr. Campbell was, he
was, moreover, as bold as a lion--seven highwaymen had he defeated with
his single arm, as he came from Whitson tryste."
"Thou art deceived, friend Jonathan," said Campbell, interrupting him.
"There were but barely two, and two cowardly loons as man could wish to
meet withal." My companion made up to him, and taking him aside seemed
to press his company upon him.
Mr. Campbell disengaged himself not very ceremoniously, and coming up to
me, observed, "Your friend, sir, is too communicative, considering the
nature of his trust."
I hastened to assure him that that gentleman was no friend of mine, and
that I knew nothing of him or his business, and we separated for the
night.
Next day I parted company with my timid companion, turning more westerly
in the direction of my uncle's seat. I had already had a distant view of
Osbaldistone Hall, when my horse, tired as he was, pricked up his ears
at the notes of a pack of hounds in full cry. The headmost hounds soon
burst out of the coppice, followed by three or four riders with reckless
haste, regardless of the broken and difficult nature of the ground. "My
cousins," thought I, as they swept past me: but a vision interrupted my
reflections. It was a young lady, the loveliness of whose very striking
features was enhanced by the animation of the chase, whose horse made an
irregular movement as she passed me, which served as an apology for me
to ride close up to her, as if to her assistance. There was no cause for
alarm, for she guided her horse with the most admirable address and
presence of mind. One of the young men soon reappeared, waving the brush
of the fox in triumph, and after a few words the lady rode back to me
and inquired, as she could not persuade "this cultivated young
gentleman" to do so, if I had heard anything of a friend of theirs, one
Mr. Francis Osbaldistone.
I was too happy to acknowledge myself to be the party enquired after,
and she then presented to me, "as his politeness seemed still to be
slumbering," my cousin, young Squire Thorncliff Osbaldistone, and "Die
Vernon, who has also the honour to be your accomplished cousin's poor
kinswoman."
After shaking hands with me, he left us to help couple up the hounds,
and Miss Vernon rode with me to Osbaldistone Hall, giving me, on the
way, a description of its inmates, of whom, she said, the only
conversible beings beside herself were the old priest and Rashleigh--Sir
Hildebrand's youngest son.
_II.--Rashleigh's Villainy_
Rashleigh Osbaldistone was a striking contrast to his young brothers,
all tall, stout, and comely, without pretence to accomplishment except
their dexterity in field sports. He welcomed me with the air of a man of
the world, and though his appearance was far from prepossessing, he was
possessed of a voice the most soft, mellow, and rich I ever heard. He
had been intended for a priest, but when my father's desire to have one
of Sir Hildebrand's sons in his counting-house was known, he had been
selected, as, indeed, the only one who could be considered at all
suitable.
The day after my arrival, Miss Vernon, as we were following the hounds,
showed me in the distance the hills of Scotland, and told me I could be
there in safety in two hours. To my dismay, she explained that my
timorous fellow-traveller had been robbed of money and dispatches, and
accused me. The magistrate had let my uncle know, and both he and Miss
Vernon, considering it a merit to distress a Hanoverian government in
every way, never doubted my guilt, and only showed the way of escape. On
my indignant denial, Miss Vernon rode with me to the magistrate's, where
we met Rashleigh, and after a hasty private talk with him, in which from
earnest she became angry and flung away from him, saying, "I will have
it so." Immediately after we heard his horse's hoofs in rapid motion;
and very shortly afterwards Mr. Campbell, the very Scotchman we had met
at Darlington, entered the Justice's room, and giving him a billet from
the Duke of Argyll to certify that he, Mr. Robert Campbell, was a person
of good fame and character, prevailed on the magistrate to discharge me,
for he had been with my late fellow-traveller at the time of the
robbery, and could swear that the robber was a very different person.
Morris was apparently more terrified than ever, but agreed to all Mr.
Campbell said, and left the house with him.
Miss Vernon made me promise to ask no questions, and I only entreated
her, if at any time my services could be useful to her, she would
command them without hesitation.
Before Rashleigh's departure, I had realised his real character, and
wrote to Owen, my father's old clerk, to hint that he should keep a
strict guard over my father's interests. Notwithstanding Miss Vernon had
charged Rashleigh with perfidious conduct towards herself, they had
several private interviews together, though their bearing did not seem
cordial; and he and I took up distant ground, each disposed to avoid all
pretext for collision.
I began to think it strange I had received no letter either from my
father or Owen, though I had now been several weeks at Osbaldistone
Hall--where the mode of life was too uniform to admit of description.
Diana Vernon and I enjoyed much of our time in our mutual studies;
although my vanity early discovered that I had given her an additional
reason for disliking the cloister, to which she was destined if she
would not marry any of Sir Hildebrand's sons, I could not confide in our
affection, which seemed completely subordinate to the mysteries of her
singular situation. She would not permit her love to overpower her sense
of duty or prudence, and one day proved this by advising me at once to
return to London--my father was in Holland, she said, and if Rashleigh
was allowed to manage his affairs long, he would be ruined. He would use
my father's revenues as a means of putting in motion his own ambitious
schemes.
I seized her hand and pressed it to my lips--the world could never
compensate for what I left behind me, if I left the Hall.
"This is folly! This is madness!" she cried, and my eyes, following the
direction of hers, I saw the tapestry shake, which covered the door of
the secret passage to Rashleigh's apartment. Prudence, and the necessity
of suppressing my passion and obeying Diana's reiterated command of
"Leave me! leave me!" came in time to prevent any rash action. I left
the apartment in a chaos of thoughts. Above all I was perplexed by the
manner in which Miss Vernon had received my tender of affection, and the
glance of fear rather than surprise with which she had watched the
motion of the tapestry. I resolved to clear up the mystery, and that
evening, at a time when I usually did not visit the library, I,
hesitating a moment with my hand on the latch, heard a suppressed
footstep within, opened the door, and found Miss Vernon alone.
I had determined to seek a complete explanation, but found she refused
it with indignant defiance, and avowed to my face the preference for a
rival. And yet, when I was about to leave her for ever, it cost her but
a change of look and tone to lead me back, her willing subject on her
own hard terms, agreeing that we could be nothing to each other but
friends now or henceforward. She then gave me a letter which she said
might never have reached my hands if it had not fallen into hers. It was
from my father's partner, Mr. Tresham, to tell me that Rashleigh had
gone to Scotland some time since to take up bills granted by my father,
and had not since been heard of, that Owen had been dispatched in search
of him, and I was entreated to go after him, and assist to save my
father's mercantile honour. Having read this, Diana left me for a
moment, and returned with a sheet of paper folded like a letter, but
without any address. "If I understand you rightly," she said, "the funds
in Rashleigh's possession must be recovered by a certain day. Take this
packet; do not open it till other means have failed; within ten days of
the fated day you may break the seal, and you will find directions that
may be useful to you. Adieu, Frank, we never meet more; but sometimes
think of your friend Die Vernon."
She extended her hand, but I clasped her to my bosom. She sighed and
escaped to her own apartment, and I saw her no more.
_III.--In the Highlands_
I had not been a day in Glasgow before, in obedience to a mysterious
summons, I met Mr. Campbell, and was by him guided to the prison where
my poor old friend Owen was confined. On his arrival two days before, he
had gone to one of my father's correspondents, trusting that they who
heretofore could not do too much to deserve the patronage of their good
friends in Crane Alley, would now give their counsel and assistance.
They met this with a counter-demand of instant security against ultimate
loss, and when this was refused as unjust to the other creditors of
Osbaldistone & Tresham, they had thrown him into prison, as he had a
small share in the firm. In the midst of our sorrowful explanation we
were disturbed by a loud knocking at the outer door of the prison. The
Highland turnkey, with as much delay as possible, undid the fastenings,
my guide sprang up the stair, and into Owen's apartment. He cast his
eyes around, and then said to me, "Lend me your pistols. Yet, no, I can
do without them. Whatever you see, take no heed, and do not mix your
hand in another man's feud. This gear's mine, and I must manage it as
best I can. I have been as hard bested and worse than I am even now." As
he spoke, he confronted the iron door, like a fine horse brought up to
the leaping-bar.
But instead of a guard with bayonets fixed, there entered a good-looking
young woman, ushering in a short, stout, important person--a magistrate.
"A bonny thing it is, and a beseeming, that I should be kept at the door
half-an-hour, Captain Stanchells," said he, addressing the principal
jailer, who now showed himself. "How's this? how's this? Strangers in
the jail after lock-up hours! I must see into this. But, first, I must
hae a crack with an auld acquaintance here. Mr. Owen, Mr. Owen, how's a'
wi' you man?"
"Pretty well in body, I thank you, Mr. Jarvie," drawled out poor Owen,
"but sore afflicted in spirit."
Mr. Jarvie was another correspondent of my father's whom Owen had had no
great belief in, largely because of his great opinion of himself. He now
showed himself kindly and sensible, and asked Owen to let him see some
papers he mentioned. While examining them, he observed my mysterious
guide make a slight movement, and said, "I say, look to the door,
Stanchells; shut it, and keep watch on the outside."
Mr. Jarvie soon showed himself master of what he had been considering,
and saying he could not see how Mr. Owen could arrange his affairs if he
were kept lying there, undertook to be his surety and to have him free
by breakfast time. He then took the light from the servant-maid's hand,
and advanced to my guide, who awaited his scrutiny with great calmness,
seated on the table. "Eh! oh! ah!" exclaimed the Bailie. "My conscience!
it's impossible! and yet, no! Conscience, it canna be. Ye robber! ye
cateran! born devil that ye are--can this be you?"
"E'en as ye see, Bailie," said he.
"Ye are a dauring villain, Rob," answered the Bailie; "and ye will be
hanged. But bluid's thicker than water. Whar's the gude thousand pounds
Scots than I lent ye, man, and when am I to see it again?"
"As to when you'll see it--why, just 'when the King enjoys his ain
again,' as the auld sang says."
"Worst of a', Robin," retorted the Bailie. "I mean ye disloyal
traitor--worst of a'! Ye had better stick to your auld trade o'
theft-boot and blackmail than ruining nations. And wha the deevil's
this?" he continued, turning to me.
Owen explained that I was young Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, the only child
of the head of the house, and the Bailie, Nicol Jarvie, having
undertaken Owen's release, took me home to sleep at his house.
I was astonished that Mr. Campbell should appear to Mr. Jarvie as the
head of a freebooting Highland clan, and dismayed to think that Diana's
fate could be involved in that of desperadoes of this man's description.
The packet which Diana Vernon had given me I had opened in the presence
of the Highlander, for the ten days had elapsed, and a sealed letter had
dropped out. This had at once been claimed by Mr. Campbell, or Rob
MacGregor, as Mr. Jarvie called him, and the address showed that it had
gone to its rightful owner.
Before we parted, MacGregor bade me visit him in the Highlands, and I
kept this appointment in company with the Bailie. Strange to say, in the
Highlands I met Diana Vernon, escorted by a single horseman, and from
her received papers which had been in Rashleigh's possession. There was
fighting in the Highlands, and the Bailie and I were both more than once
in peril of our lives.
_IV.--Rob Roy to the Rescue_
No sooner had we returned from our dangerous expedition than I sought
out Owen. He was not alone--my father was with him.
The first impulse was to preserve the dignity of his usual
equanimity--"Francis, I am glad to see you." The next was to embrace me
tenderly--"my dear, dear son!"
When the tumult of our joy was over, I learnt that my father had arrived
from Holland shortly after Owen had set off for Scotland. By his
extensive resources, with funds enlarged and credit fortified, he easily
put right what had befallen only, perhaps, through his absence, and set
out for Scotland to exact justice from Rashleigh Osbaldistone.
The full extent of my cousin Rashleigh's villainy I had yet to learn. In
the rebellion of 1715, when in an ill-omened hour the standard of the
Stuart was set up, to the ruin of many honourable families, Rashleigh,
with more than another Jacobite agent, revealed the plot to the
Government. My poor uncle, Sir Hildebrand, was easily persuaded to join
the standard of the Stuarts, and was soon taken and lodged in Newgate.
He died in prison, but before he died he spoke with great bitterness
against Rashleigh, now his only surviving child, and declared that
neither he nor his sons who had perished would have plunged into
political intrigue but for that very member of his family who had been
the first to desert them. By his will, Sir Hildebrand devised his
estates at Osbaldistone Hall to me as his next heir, cutting off
Rashleigh with a shilling.
Rashleigh had yet one more card to play. The villain was aware that
Diana's father, Sir Frederick Vernon, whose life had been forfeited for
earlier Jacobite plots, lived in hiding at Osbaldistone Hall, and this
had given him power over Miss Vernon.
Some time after I had returned to my father's office, I decided to visit
Osbaldistone and take possession. On my arrival, Diana met me in the
dining hall with her father.
"We are your suppliants, Mr. Osbaldistone," said the old knight; "we
claim the refuge and protection of your roof till we can pursue a
journey where dungeons and death gape for me at every step."
"Surely," I articulated, "Miss Vernon cannot suppose me capable of
betraying anyone, much less you?"
But scarcely had they retired to rest that night, when Rashleigh arrived
with officers of the law, and exhibited his warrant, not only against
Frederick Vernon, an attainted traitor, but also against Diana Vernon,
spinster, and Francis Osbaldistone, accused of connivance at treason. He
provided a coach for his prisoners, but in the park a number of
Highlanders had gathered.
"Claymore!" cried the leader of the Highlanders, as the coach appeared,
and a scuffle instantly commenced. The officers of the law, surprised at
so sudden an attack, conceived themselves surrounded, and galloped off
in different directions.
Rashleigh fell, mortally wounded by the leader of the band, who the next
instant was at the carriage door. It was Rob Roy, who handed out Miss
Vernon, and assisted her father and me to alight.
"Mr. Osbaldistone," he said, in a whisper, "you have nothing to fear; I
must look after those who have. Your friends will soon be in safety.
Farewell, and forget not the MacGregor."
He whistled; his band gathered round him, and, hurrying Diana and her
father along with him, they were almost instantly lost in the glades of
the forest.
The death of Rashleigh, who had threatened to challenge at law my right
to Osbaldistone Hall, left me access to my inheritance without
interference. It was at once admitted that the ridiculous charge of
connivance at treason was got up by an unscrupulous attorney on an
affidavit made with the sole purpose of favouring Rashleigh's views, and
removing me from Osbaldistone Hall.
I learnt subsequently that the opportune appearance of MacGregor and his
party was not fortuitous. The Scottish nobles and gentry engaged in the
insurrection of 1715 were particularly anxious to further the escape of
Sir Frederick Vernon, who, as an old and trusted agent of the house of
Stuart, was possessed of matter enough to have ruined half Scotland, and
Rob Roy was the person whom they pitched upon to assist his escape. Once
at large, they found horses prepared for them, and by MacGregor's
knowledge of the country were conducted to the western sea-coast, and
safely embarked for France. From the same source I also learnt that Sir
Frederick could not long survive a lingering disease, and that his
daughter was placed in a convent, although it was her father's wish she
should take the veil only on her own inclination.
When these news reached me, I frankly told the state of my affections to
my father. After a little hesitation he broke out with "I little thought
a son of mine should have been lord of Osbaldistone Manor, and far less
that he should go to a French convent for a spouse. But so dutiful a
daughter cannot but prove a good wife. You have worked at the desk to
please me, Frank, it is but fair you should wive to please yourself."
Long and happily I lived with Diana, and heavily I lamented her death.
Rob Roy died in old age and by a peaceful death some time about 1733,
and is still remembered in his country as the Robin Hood of Scotland.
* * * * *