Voyager: A Literate Friendship?

It is perhaps not surprising, after their initial encounter cleared up the misperceptions Lord John Grey has about Jamie's (and Highlanders') literacy (which might be read as synonymous for intelligence or capacity for rational thought), that the common ground that allows these two vastly different men to relate to one another is found in books.

Even after Grey puts Jamie in a position that compromises Grey's authority, and potentially compromises Jamie's integrity, and Jamie--not quite in response--breeches Grey's trust (and there are other issues concerning whether a captor has a right to further bind a captive via trust*), it is through books that they establish the normal--but highly abnormal--familiarity that borders on friendship:

They discussed matters of the prison, had a little conversation of books, and parted formally, but on good terms. (152)

The caveat "Grey did not mention gold" (152) points to use of common literate context as a diversionary, trust-building, and information-gathering tactic--chalk that one up to "uses of literacy"!

As the now-weekly conversation shifts to Jamie's experiences in French literary circles, it becomes a bit more theoretical, centering on the person of the author:

     Fraser smiled. “Oh, aye, Major. In fact, I was privileged to entertain Monsieur Arouet— Voltaire being his nom de plume, aye?— at my table, on more than one occasion.”
     “Really?” Grey cocked a brow in interest. “And is he as great a wit in person as with the pen?”
     “I couldna really say,” Fraser replied, tidily forking up a slice of mutton. “He seldom said anything at all, let alone much sparkling with wit. He only sat hunched over in his chair, watching everyone, wi’ his eyes rolling about from one to another. I shouldna be at all surprised to hear that things said at my dinner table later appeared on the stage, though fortunately I never encountered a parody of myself in his work.” He closed his eyes in momentary concentration, chewing his mutton. (153)

At this point, Jamie's invocation of Voltaire might be a diversionary tactic as well, since Jamie already knows of Grey's literacy snobbery.  So literacy functions as a potential plot device, on the one hand, and on the other hand, Jamie's display of his literary connections functions in the narrative as a commentary on the sociability of authors.  An unrelated point is Jamie's appreciation of the food, which Grey finds unacceptable, but which is choice compared with the prisoners' fare--an appreciation which borders on absurd when Jamie (implicitly) compares the mutton to French banquet fare (Again--consider the artfulness and subterfuge in Jamie's interaction with Grey.)

As Jamie continues to describe the habits of Voltaire, the reader gets a peek at the writer's art:

     “I have never seen Monsieur Arouet consume anything beyond a glass of water and a dry biscuit, no matter how lavish the occasion. He’s a weazened wee scrap of a man, ye ken, and a martyr to the indigestion.”
     “Indeed?” Grey was fascinated. “Perhaps that explains the cynicism of some of the sentiments I have seen expressed in his plays. Or do you not think that the character of an author shows in the construction of his work?”
     “Given some of the characters that I have seen appear in plays and novels, Major, I should think the author a bit depraved who drew them entirely from himself, no?”
     “I suppose that is so,” Grey answered, smiling at the thought of some of the more extreme fictional characters with whom he was acquainted. “Though if an author constructs these colorful personages from life, rather than from the depths of imagination, surely he must boast a most varied acquaintance!” (154)

Through discussion of literature, the two men leave behind their roles as prisoner and prison governor, and Jamie manages to court Grey's curiosity via his own literary knowledge.  In their commentary, the reader gets a portrait of the artist as introspective, dyspeptic (in the literal and figurative sense), and antisocial.  He practices the stereotypical "people-watching."  And the debate between Grey and Jamie as to the nature of the author's art and inspiration--from within or from without--is a kind of literary cliché, though presumably not for armchair critics in the 18th Century!  To take the cliché (an enjoyable cliché, mind you) a bit further, Jamie recounts that

“It was not Monsieur Arouet, but a colleague of his— a lady novelist— who remarked to me once that writing novels was a cannibal’s art, in which one often mixed small portions of one’s friends and one’s enemies together, seasoned them with imagination, and allowed the whole to stew together into a savory concoction.” (154)

This "author-as-cannibal" is a necessary transition into discussion of Robinson Crusoe, which Grey introduces as "a favorite of mine since boyhood" (154).  The remainder of their evening is neatly summarized:

The conversation turned then to romances, and the excitement of the tropics. It was very late indeed when Fraser returned to his cell, leaving Major Grey entertained, but no wiser concerning either the source or the disposition of the wanderer’s gold. (154)

The moment turns out rather pitiful.  From assuming a position of superiority, Grey has been caught unaware by the extent of Fraser's knowledge--a fact that Jamie uses in order to dominate and direct the conversation away from the subject Grey most wants (wanted?) to address--the matter of gold.  The scene is a reminder not to underestimate literacy--or shared literacy context--and the power it can give. The positions of the two men are equalized, and then Grey's authority effectively subverted.

What becomes a bit heartwrenching is Jamie's exploitation of Grey's naïveté--a naïveté he has exploited before, on the eve of a battle in the uprising (see Dragonfly in Amber, or Grey's reminiscence in Voyager).  Even given his authority, Grey has weaknesses--loneliness, and desire for intellectual companionship, quite apart from an appreciation for Jamie's attractiveness (at this point understated).  If one has the ability to feel pity for Grey given his authority, and specifically, to feel a pity centered specifically on his homosexuality**, it is sad to see that his affection for Jamie (which includes, but does not seem limited to, sexual attraction) begins with deception.  It is not unreasonable to expect that Jamie enjoyed the evening, but the narrative ("Fraser returned to his cell, leaving Major Grey entertained, but no wiser concerning either the source or the disposition of the wanderer’s gold") strongly suggests that he did not lose himself in the conversation the way the other did.  Beware, then, the literacy-based affection?

Gabaldon, Diana (2004-10-26). Voyager (Outlander). Random House, Inc.. Kindle Edition.

* In an earlier circumstance, Jamie declares to Grey, “It is not legitimate for ye either to extort my services or to threaten me, Major.” (134)

**In all of the novels in which he is a character, Lord John's homosexuality is frequently an object of pity inspired by the narrative, rather than sympathy or empathy.  If I analyze the Lord John novels, I plan to explore how I think Gabaldon maintains an arms' length from Grey's sexual orientation, often portraying homosexual relationships as destructive, futile, and sordid, especially as compared to Grey's platonic and almost transcendant relationship with Jamie.