Chapter III – In the Matter of the Hanging of Duncan Jopp begins with a courtroom scene that shakes young Archie Weir to the core. Watching the proceedings unfold under the command of his father, Lord Hermiston, Archie is confronted by the sheer finality of justice rendered without mercy. Duncan Jopp’s guilt may be established, but it is the spectacle of his punishment—and the cold, almost theatrical authority behind it—that unsettles Archie most. He sees not only the law at work but a system that seems to glorify its own severity. His father’s composed delivery of the sentence, void of visible remorse, appears less like justice and more like cruelty masquerading as duty. Archie, overwhelmed, reacts not with silence but with open condemnation. His outcry in public—calling the execution “God-defying murder”—does not just challenge the verdict but the authority of the bench itself, and worse, the honor of his own father.

This protest leads to a deeply personal confrontation between father and son, one that strips away all formality. Lord Hermiston, though a man accustomed to authority, is clearly taken aback by the emotional charge of Archie’s objection. He does not meet it with violence or drama, but with something sharper—disappointment, laced with anger. Archie, in turn, defends his response as a refusal to be complicit in what he sees as moral decay masked as justice. He does not question the law but the spirit in which it is enforced. For Archie, the sight of Jopp’s execution is not a lesson in order but a moment of moral collapse. Hermiston calls it duty. Archie calls it barbarism. The divide between them grows not from misunderstanding, but from the clarity with which each sees the world. One sees principle in discipline; the other, principle in compassion.

Their argument exposes not just ideological gaps but emotional wounds left long unspoken. Archie reveals that his disillusionment extends beyond this trial. It has roots in years of observing his father’s unyielding nature—firm in court, distant at home. Hermiston, for all his authority, shows flashes of something deeper—perhaps regret, perhaps weariness. He tells Archie bluntly that duty is not shaped by what one feels, but by what one must do. Archie finds this philosophy unbearable. He argues instead for human conscience, for the right to dissent when laws no longer reflect humanity. The options his father presents—law or ministry—feel to him like prisons, built not from stone but from expectation. In proposing the army, Archie seeks a life removed from the cold logic of legalism, a place where honor might still hold meaning. His father scoffs at the suggestion, viewing it as childish escapism rather than principled rebellion.

As the conversation draws to a close, neither man yields. Archie does not apologize for his defiance, and Hermiston does not revoke his authority. The possibility of disinheritance is raised not as a threat, but as a declaration of finality. A wall has been built, brick by brick, and now stands between them, unshakable. Yet in the hardness of Hermiston’s stance lies something more than pride. He speaks of his role as not merely a father, but a public servant bound to deliver justice whether or not it bruises the heart. Archie hears these words, but they do not soften him. He walks away not crushed, but confirmed in his resolve to choose a different path, even if it leads to estrangement. The silence that follows is louder than the shouting could have been.

This chapter brings the novel’s themes into sharp focus: justice, morality, family, and the burden of legacy. Archie represents a new generation, one that questions inherited power and seeks gentler truths in a harsh world. Hermiston, though seemingly rigid, stands as a man shaped by structure and sacrifice, bound by the same law that isolates him. Their conflict is not merely personal; it is societal. The law as an institution, the family as a structure, and the individual conscience all collide here. The execution of Duncan Jopp becomes more than an event—it becomes a symbol of everything Archie hopes to resist and Hermiston feels compelled to defend. What’s left is not resolution but distance, not healing but the promise of deeper rupture. And with it, the story moves toward a future shaped as much by principle as by pain.