weir of hermiston-第2章
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maintenance but the cellar; which was his own private care。 When things
went wrong at dinner; as they continually did; my lord would look up the
table at his wife: 〃I think these broth would be better to sweem in than
to sup。〃 Or else to the butler: 〃Here; M'Killop; awa' wi' this Raadical
gigot … tak' it to the French; man; and bring me some puddocks! It
seems rather a sore kind of a business that I should be all day in Court
haanging Raadicals; and get nawthing to my denner。〃 Of course this was
but a manner of speaking; and he had never hanged a man for being a
Radical in his life; the law; of which he was the faithful minister;
directing otherwise。 And of course these growls were in the nature of
pleasantry; but it was of a recondite sort; and uttered as they were in
his resounding voice; and commented on by that expression which they
called in the Parliament House 〃Hermiston's hanging face〃 … they struck
mere dismay into the wife。 She sat before him speechless and
fluttering; at each dish; as at a fresh ordeal; her eye hovered toward
my lord's countenance and fell again; if he but ate in silence;
unspeakable relief was her portion; if there were complaint; the world
was darkened。 She would seek out the cook; who was always her SISTER IN
THE LORD。 〃O; my dear; this is the most dreidful thing that my lord can
never be contented in his own house!〃 she would begin; and weep and pray
with the cook; and then the cook would pray with Mrs。 Weir; and the next
day's meal would never be a penny the better … and the next cook (when
she came) would be worse; if anything; but just as pious。 It was often
wondered that Lord Hermiston bore it as he did; indeed; he was a stoical
old voluptuary; contented with sound wine and plenty of it。 But there
were moments when he overflowed。 Perhaps half a dozen times in the
history of his married life … 〃Here! tak' it awa'; and bring me a piece
bread and kebbuck!〃 he had exclaimed; with an appalling explosion of his
voice and rare gestures。 None thought to dispute or to make excuses;
the service was arrested; Mrs。 Weir sat at the head of the table
whimpering without disguise; and his lordship opposite munched his bread
and cheese in ostentatious disregard。 Once only; Mrs。 Weir had ventured
to appeal。 He was passing her chair on his way into the study。
〃O; Edom!〃 she wailed; in a voice tragic with tears; and reaching out to
him both hands; in one of which she held a sopping pocket…handkerchief。
He paused and looked upon her with a face of wrath; into which there
stole; as he looked; a twinkle of humour。
〃Noansense!〃 he said。 〃You and your noansense! What do I want with a
Christian faim'ly? I want Christian broth! Get me a lass that can
plain…boil a potato; if she was a whure off the streets。〃 And with
these words; which echoed in her tender ears like blasphemy; he had
passed on to his study and shut the door behind him。
Such was the housewifery in George Square。 It was better at Hermiston;
where Kirstie Elliott; the sister of a neighbouring bonnet…laird; and an
eighteenth cousin of the lady's; bore the charge of all; and kept a trim
house and a good country table。 Kirstie was a woman in a thousand;
clean; capable; notable; once a moorland Helen; and still comely as a
blood horse and healthy as the hill wind。 High in flesh and voice and
colour; she ran the house with her whole intemperate soul; in a bustle;
not without buffets。 Scarce more pious than decency in those days
required; she was the cause of many an anxious thought and many a
tearful prayer to Mrs。 Weir。 Housekeeper and mistress renewed the parts
of Martha and Mary; and though with a pricking conscience; Mary reposed
on Martha's strength as on a rock。 Even Lord Hermiston held Kirstie in
a particular regard。 There were few with whom he unbent so gladly; few
whom he favoured with so many pleasantries。 〃Kirstie and me maun have
our joke;〃 he would declare in high good…humour; as he buttered
Kirstie's scones; and she waited at table。 A man who had no need either
of love or of popularity; a keen reader of men and of events; there was
perhaps only one truth for which he was quite unprepared: he would have
been quite unprepared to learn that Kirstie hated him。 He thought maid
and master were well matched; hard; bandy; healthy; broad Scots folk;
without a hair of nonsense to the pair of them。 And the fact was that
she made a goddess and an only child of the effete and tearful lady; and
even as she waited at table her hands would sometimes itch for my lord's
ears。
Thus; at least; when the family were at Hermiston; not only my lord; but
Mrs。 Weir too; enjoyed a holiday。 Free from the dreadful looking…for of
the miscarried dinner; she would mind her seam; read her piety books;
and take her walk (which was my lord's orders); sometimes by herself;
sometimes with Archie; the only child of that scarce natural union。 The
child was her next bond to life。 Her frosted sentiment bloomed again;
she breathed deep of life; she let loose her heart; in that society。
The miracle of her motherhood was ever new to her。 The sight of the
little man at her skirt intoxicated her with the sense of power; and
froze her with the consciousness of her responsibility。 She looked
forward; and; seeing him in fancy grow up and play his diverse part on
the world's theatre; caught in her breath and lifted up her courage with
a lively effort。 It was only with the child that she forgot herself and
was at moments natural; yet it was only with the child that she had
conceived and managed to pursue a scheme of conduct。 Archie was to be a
great man and a good; a minister if possible; a saint for certain。 She
tried to engage his mind upon her favourite books; Rutherford's LETTERS;
Scougalls GRACE ABOUNDING; and the like。 It was a common practice of
hers (and strange to remember now) that she would carry the child to the
Deil's Hags; sit with him on the Praying Weaver's stone; and talk of the
Covenanters till their tears ran down。 Her view of history was wholly
artless; a design in snow and ink; upon the one side; tender innocents
with psalms upon their lips; upon the other; the persecutors; booted;
bloody…minded; flushed with wine: a suffering Christ; a raging
Beelzebub。 PERSECUTOR was a word that knocked upon the woman's heart;
it was her highest thought of wickedness; and the mark of it was on her
house。 Her great…great…grandfather had drawn the sword against the
Lord's anointed on the field of Rullion Green; and breathed his last
(tradition said) in the arms of the detestable Dalyell。 Nor could she
blind herself to this; that had they lived in those old days; Hermiston
himself would have been numbered alongside of Bloody MacKenzie and the
politic Lauderdale and Rothes; in the band of God's immediate enemies。
The sense of this moved her to the more fervour; she had a voice for
that name of PERSECUTOR that thrilled in the child's marrow; and when
one day the mob hooted and hissed them all in my lord's travelling
carriage; and cried; 〃Down with the persecutor! down with Hanging
Hermiston!〃 and mamma covered her eyes and wept; and papa let down the
glass and looked out upon the rabble with his droll formidable face;
bitter and smiling; as they said he sometimes looked when he gave
sentence; Archie was for the moment too much amazed to be alarmed; but
he had scarce got his mother by herself before his shrill voice was
raised demanding an explanation: why had they called papa a persecutor?
〃Keep me; my precious!〃 she exclaimed。 〃Keep me; my dear! this is
poleetical。 Ye must never ask me anything poleetical; Erchie。 Your
faither is a great man; my dear; and it's no for me or you to be judging
him。 It would be telling us all; if we behaved ourselves in our several
stations the way your faither does