The annals of history barely scratch the surface when it comes to the countless Melancholic Gentlemen wandering the colonial landscapes of America. They gloss over the Revolution, the tea-tossing in harbors, and rap-like debates on national debt, yet neglect the haunting brooding that permeated the era. Fear not, fellow history enthusiasts, for “Outlander” has taken it upon itself to fill this narrative void. Now, I do not intend to trivialize or mock the heart-wrenching plights of the three Melancholy Souls featured in “Famous Last Words.” However, at one point during this episode, I found myself yearning for War Nurse Claire to storm in and exclaim, “Enough already, we’re all saddled with sorrow!” After all, the English excel at the art of “keeping calm and carrying on.” Regrettably, Claire has been relegated to the sidelines this season, despite being the very lifeblood of Fraser’s Ridge, thanks to her DIY penicillin. But that grievance is a personal battle I must wage against my TV screen in solitude. So, what dark clouds loom over these Melancholic Gentlemen? Let us delve into their sorrowful worlds.
It has been three long months since the Frasers were dealt a devastating blow at the Battle of Alamance. Jamie, understandably, remains a shattered soul over the loss of Murtagh—a grief we all share. Aunt Jocasta visits Ridge to pay her respects at Murtagh’s grave, her words piercing our hearts like arrows: “How mindful we would be if we knew which farewells would be our last,” she utters lovingly to her nephew before departing for River Run. Jamie’s sorrow runs so deep that he even inquires about a potion that could consume his grief. Alas, such a remedy does not exist; only time can heal his wounds.
Yet, Jamie is not the Melancholic Gentleman who currently holds our utmost concern. That distinction falls to Roger. As many suspected (and book readers knew all too well), Roger survived his near-fatal hanging at the hands of Governor Tryon, who sought to make an example of Regulator prisoners, unaware of Roger’s presence among them. The episode adopts a “silent movie” theme, tying into a flashback to Oxford in 1969, where Roger and Bree watched silent films and taught history classes on famous last words, emphasizing that our words shape our legacies. Each flashback to Roger’s harrowing day at Alamance unfolds like a silent film, seemingly unnecessary and detracting from the gravity of the scene. But let us indulge this cinematic device.
Three months after Claire rescued Roger from the brink of death, he is physically healed but remains mute, deeply withdrawn, and ravaged by an unseen wound. Claire and Bree engage in a thought-provoking dialogue about shell shock—Claire drawing from her experiences in World War II, Bree from her encounters with Vietnam veterans. In neither of their eras had the term PTSD been coined, yet that is precisely what ails Roger. He relives his ordeal in an endless loop, trapped within a tormented mind. In true “Outlander” fashion, intent on hammering home the trauma, we are forced to witness Roger’s hanging repeatedly. While the intent is to immerse us in Roger’s pain, the repetition borders on excess. Once was more than sufficient, dear show.
Everyone's hearts are heavy with concern for Roger, yet none bear the burden quite as heavily as Bree, who must endure the daily spectacle of her husband existing in a zombie-like state. She is acutely aware of his voicelessness, "his gift" (now we comprehend the reason behind Roger's abundance of singing scenes in this season of Outlander). She endeavors to remind him that she, too, has weathered an unspeakable ordeal, one that left her yearning to "vanish into obscurity and perish." Such feelings still resurface at times. Yet, she recognizes the necessity of battling for her son, Jemmy, and her husband, relying on Roger to stand by her side in this fight. Alas, her efforts yield naught but a solitary, desperate cry of "don't!" when Jemmy nearly brushed against a scalding teapot. When Lord John Grey arrives with a letter of apology, accompanied by an astrolabe, for Jamie from Tryon—acknowledging his regrettable act of hanging Roger (her son-in-law)—Bree is indifferent to the five-acre plot of land bestowed upon her and Roger by the governor as a token of atonement. Her sole desire is the restoration of her husband.
But halt! You inquire about this Third Sad Figure. Allow me to enlighten you. One fateful day, as Jamie and Claire indulge in joyous play with Jemmy amidst the woods, portraying the epitome of enchanting grandparents, a wild boar bursts forth from the underbrush. Jamie's hand instinctively reaches for his knife, yet his prowess remains unused; an arrow sails through the air, felling the beast. Behold, Young Ian has returned!
Jamie and Claire's exhilaration knows no bounds upon beholding him, yet Ian has undergone a transformation. It transcends mere appearance; his entire demeanor has shifted. A portion of this change can be attributed to his transition from Mohawk life to the grandeur of Fraser's Ridge. However, it becomes evident that this is but the tip of the iceberg.
Ian engages in two intriguing conversations during his settlement at Fraser's Ridge. The first unfolds with his uncle, who discovers him sleepless on the outdoors one morning, unable to find solace in a bed. Oh, dear Jamie, his heart is shattered at witnessing Ian in such a foreign light. He implores his nephew to confide in him should he wish to discuss his Mohawk experiences (Ian is resolute in his refusal to return but remains tight-lipped on further details). Ian expresses gratitude but is not yet ready to unravel his tale. "Some matters are kept concealed from others—you and Claire alike," he adds cryptically. One wonders about the hidden allusions—perhaps a hint at time travel? Regardless, Jamie vows to sit beside Ian, merely present for his nephew's comfort. Truly, this man embodies compassion itself.
Ian also shares a poignant conversation with the heavily pregnant Marsali, who rambles on about the madness of nurturing two children while anticipating a third amidst her myriad duties at the Ridge. Ian responds with a profound sentiment, likening children to "fleeting blessings loaned to us by the Creator." Marsali, adept at conversing with anyone, glosses over his comment and continues to muse about her homesickness for Scotland, yet her profound happiness and sense of belonging here. She is overjoyed at the prospect of Ian welcoming their newborn. Ian, however, remains silent.
Anyhow, prodded gently yet firmly by both Jamie and Bree, Roger and Ian set out together to inspect the land bestowed upon the MacKenzies of Fraser’s Ridge by Tryon. This little surveying expedition proved to be quite the whimsical adventure. Meanwhile, back at their homestead, matters were far from rosy: Claire was distressed to discover that her cache of water hemlock—a highly toxic herb—had vanished. She confessed her apprehensions to Jamie, fearing that Roger might embark on this surveying mission with no intention of returning. Poor Claire, attempting to broker a conversation about mental health and depression with an 18th-century Scotsman. Truly, her patience knows no bounds. Alas, all they could do was to await developments with bated breath.
Roger appeared far from his usual self. He gazed morosely over cliff edges and assorted landscapes. He experienced another flashback to that fateful day, but this time, a new memory emerged: the last thing he beheld before he thought he was about to perish was Bree's countenance. This revelation ignited his desire to return to his wife and son. He was now eager to rekindle his conversations—to recommence living. Thus, it wasn't Roger whom Claire ought to have worried about in connection with the water hemlock. It was Ian.
One morning, Roger awoke to find Ian absent, his belongings still there, and Rollo (hello, pup!) tethered nearby. Ian was seen in seclusion, preparing the hemlock to ingest it, literally burying his axe as a gesture of seeking peace. Roger intervened, knocking over the hemlock potion before Ian could partake, and finally, the two men engaged in a heartfelt conversation. Upon hearing about Roger's vision of Bree before his near-fatal encounter, Ian became even more distressed: even in death, he feared he might not escape the agony inflicted by "her." Ian was vague on the details, but it was evident that "she" was not deceased; she was merely "lost" to him, and Ian still wore a bracelet somehow linked to her. Roger ultimately persuaded Ian to reclaim his weapon, return home, and fight. This was precisely what Roger was doing—his weapon being his voice. Until Ian could muster the courage to do so on his own, he could lean on Roger. What a poignant full-circle moment, witnessing Roger save Ian's life.
However, Roger had one more pivotal conversation to hold: he needed to confide in Bree. He revealed that a part of him had died that fateful day, and he would never be the same again. He shared that she was the last face he saw before his near-demise. He vowed that regardless of the circumstances, he would "forever sing" for her. Now, that last pronouncement was quite a lot, even for me, a romance enthusiast. Yet, after all they had been through, these two deserved a victory, didn't they?
