Chapter IV – Opinions of the Bench begins in the shadowy quiet of evening, as Archie arrives at Lord Glenalmond’s home with a restless energy that suggests inner conflict. The visit, though unannounced, is not unexpected. Glenalmond, calm and thoughtful, receives him with kindness, insisting gently that Archie first eat, knowing well that troubled minds are not soothed on empty stomachs. Though Archie resists at first, preferring to move straight to the matter, his host maintains a calm presence, giving him space to settle. This initial exchange, brief and measured, reflects not only Glenalmond’s wisdom but the emotional fatigue Archie carries. Once alone, the young man confronts the heart of his visit—his suspicion that Glenalmond had betrayed him to his father. But Glenalmond deflects the accusation without anger, pointing instead to another source and opening the door to a deeper conversation about justice, family, and the burdens they carry.

As the fire flickers and wine is poured, the tone shifts from confrontation to confession. Archie opens up about the emotional turmoil caused by his father’s judicial severity—how witnessing such harsh judgment in court left him both ashamed and wounded. There’s no denial of Lord Hermiston’s competence; it is his coldness that haunts Archie most. The trial, which should have been a demonstration of law, felt to Archie like a display of cruelty. Glenalmond listens with the grace of someone who understands both men well. He doesn’t try to contradict Archie’s feelings. Instead, he challenges the narrowness of Archie’s view, urging him to consider his father as a full man—not just as a judge, but as a father shaped by duty and restraint. He reminds Archie that misunderstanding often arises from expecting emotional warmth in places where duty has trained detachment.

As their discussion turns philosophical, the issue of capital punishment emerges as a symbolic clash between moral instinct and institutional justice. Archie finds it difficult to reconcile personal compassion with the dispassionate demands of law. Glenalmond offers not justification, but context—pointing out that the burden of passing sentence is a weight many never understand until they must bear it. He shares that judgment, especially when it involves life and death, demands a kind of emotional discipline that looks like coldness but may actually be a form of mercy. This perspective challenges Archie to shift his focus from condemnation to comprehension. In a way, Glenalmond becomes a bridge between Archie’s idealism and Lord Hermiston’s realism, showing that truth lies not in extremes but in the space between them. The conversation doesn’t settle the matter, but it opens a new lens through which Archie might view his father—and perhaps, himself.

By the end of the evening, something has softened in Archie. Though unresolved in heart, he is no longer consumed by bitterness. Glenalmond proposes a toast—not to himself or to Archie—but to Lord Hermiston. It is an unexpected gesture, and yet Archie joins, not with mockery, but with quiet reflection. That shared moment, brief and respectful, marks a subtle reconciliation—not with his father, but with the idea that respect can exist even where closeness cannot. It acknowledges that relationships, especially between fathers and sons, are often more complex than either side admits. Their peace, however, is soon disrupted by the sudden entrance of Lord Glenkindie, intoxicated and boisterous, breaking the silence with laughter and carelessness. His arrival, jarring and ungraceful, serves as a reminder of the public world Archie must still navigate—a world that demands appearances but rarely offers understanding.

This chapter peels back layers of character and conflict with care, presenting not a resolution, but a turning point. Archie is forced to confront the discomfort of seeing justice through another’s eyes and to wrestle with his idealism in the face of duty. Glenalmond never pushes Archie to change his beliefs, but rather to think more deeply and more compassionately. It’s a moment of mentorship that speaks to the importance of empathy, not only in judgment but in relationships. The chapter’s strength lies in its willingness to leave things unsettled, because real understanding rarely comes all at once. In the end, Archie leaves with more questions than answers, but also with a sense that dialogue, even difficult dialogue, can open the door to growth. The winter night that holds their exchange feels less cold than when he arrived, warmed not by the fire, but by the human courage to listen and be heard.