Текст книги "Остаток дня / The Remains of the Day"
Автор книги: Кадзуо Исигуро
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 7 страниц)
There was a stunned silence and no one moved. Mr Lewis shrugged, raised his glass to all the company, drank and sat back down. Almost immediately, Lord Darlington stood up.
‘I have no wish,’ his lordship said, ‘to enter into a quarrel on this our last evening together which we all deserve to enjoy as a happy and triumphant occasion. But it is out of respect for your views, Mr Lewis, that I feel one should not simply cast them to one side as though they were uttered by some soap-box eccentric. Let me say this. What you describe as “amateurism,” sir, is what I think most of us here still prefer to call “honour”.’
This brought a loud murmur of assent with several ‘hear, hear’s’ and some applause.
‘What is more, sir,’ his lordship went on, ‘I believe I have a good idea of what you mean by “professionalism.” It appears to mean getting one’s way by cheating and manipulating. It appears to mean serving the dictates of greed and advantage rather than those of goodness and the desire to see justice prevail in the world. If that is the “professionalism” you refer to, sir, I don’t much care for it and have no wish to acquire it.’
This was met by the loudest burst of approval yet, followed by warm and sustained applause. I could see Mr Lewis smiling at his wine glass and shaking his head wearily. It was just around this stage that I became aware of the first footman beside me, who whispered:
‘Miss Kenton would like a word with you, sir. She’s just outside the door.’
I made my exit as discreetly as possible just as his lordship, still on his feet, was embarking on a further point.
Miss Kenton looked rather upset.
‘Your father has become very ill, Mr Stevens,’ she said. ‘I’ve called for Dr Meredith, but I understand he may be a little delayed.’
I must have looked a little confused, for Miss Kenton then said:
‘Mr Stevens, he really is in a poor state. You had better come and see him.’
‘I only have a moment. The gentlemen are liable to retire to the smoking room at any moment.’
‘Of course. But you must come now, Mr Stevens, or else you may deeply regret it later.’
Miss Kenton was already leading the way, and we hurried through the house up to my father’s small attic room. Mrs Mortimer, the cook, was standing over my father’s bed, still in her apron.
‘Oh, Mr Stevens,’ she said upon our entry, ‘he’s gone very poorly.’
Indeed, my father’s face had gone a dull reddish colour, like no colour I had seen on a living being. I heard Miss Kenton say softly behind me:
‘His pulse is very weak.’
I gazed at my father for a moment, touched his forehead slightly, then withdrew my hand.
‘In my opinion,’ Mrs Mortimer said, ‘he’s suffered a stroke. I’ve seen two in my time and I think he’s suffered a stroke.’
With that, she began to cry. I noticed she reeked powerfully of fat and roast cooking. I turned away and said to Miss Kenton:
‘This is most distressing. Nevertheless, I must now return downstairs.’
‘Of course, Mr Stevens. I will tell you when the doctor arrives. Or else when there are any changes.’
‘Thank you, Miss Kenton.’
I hurried down the stairs and was in time to see the gentlemen proceeding into the smoking room. The footmen looked relieved to see me, and I immediately signalled them to get to their positions.
Whatever had taken place in the banqueting hall after my departure, there was now a genuinely celebratory atmosphere amongst the guests. All around the smoking room, gentlemen seemed to be standing in clusters laughing and clapping each other on the shoulder. Mr Lewis, so far as I could ascertain, had already retired. I found myself making my way through the guests, a bottle of port upon my tray. I had just finished serving a glass to a gentleman when a voice behind me said:
‘Ah, Stevens, you’re interested in fish, you say.’
I turned to find the young Mr Cardinal beaming happily at me. I smiled also and said:
‘Fish, sir?’
‘When I was young, I used to keep all sorts of tropical fish in a tank. Quite a little aquarium it was. I say, Stevens, are you all right?’
I smiled again.
‘Quite all right, thank you, sir.’
‘As you so rightly pointed out, I really should come back here in the spring. Darlington Hall must be rather lovely then. The last time I was here, I think it was winter then too. I say, Stevens, are you sure you’re all right there?’
Perfectly all right, thank you, sir.’
‘Not feeling unwell, are you?’
‘Not at all, sir. Please excuse me.’
I proceeded to serve port to some other of the guests. There was a loud burst of laughter behind me and I heard the Belgian clergyman exclaim:
‘That is really heretical! Positively heretical!’ then laugh loudly himself.
I felt something touch my elbow and turned to find Lord Darlington.
‘Stevens, are you all right?’
‘Yes, sir. Perfectly.’
‘You look as though you’re crying.’
I laughed and taking out a handkerchief, quickly wiped my face.
‘I’m very sorry, sir. The strains of a hard day.’
‘Yes, it’s been hard work.’
Someone addressed his lordship and he turned away to reply. I was about to continue further around the room when I caught sight of Miss Kenton through the open doorway, signalling to me. I began to make my way towards the doors, but before I could reach them, M. Dupont touched my arm.
‘Butler,’ he said, ‘I wonder if you would find me some fresh bandages. My feet are unbearable again.’
‘Yes, sir.’
As I proceeded towards the doors, I realized M. Dupont was following me. I turned and said:
‘I will come and find you, sir, just as soon as I have what is required.’
‘Please hurry, butler. I am in some pain.’
‘Yes, sir. I’m very sorry, sir.’
Miss Kenton was still standing out in the hall where I had first spotted her. As I emerged, she walked silently towards the staircase, a curious lack of urgency in her manner. Then she turned and said:
‘Mr Stevens, I’m very sorry. Your father passed away about four minutes ago.’
‘I see.’
She looked at her hands, then up at my face.
‘Mr Stevens, I’m very sorry,’ she said. Then she added: ‘I wish there was something I could say.’
‘There’s no need, Miss Kenton.’
‘Dr Meredith has not yet arrived.’
Then for a moment she bowed her head and a sob escaped her. But almost immediately, she resumed her composure and asked in a steady voice:
‘Will you come up and see him?’
‘I’m very busy just now, Miss Kenton. In a little while perhaps.’
‘In that case, Mr Stevens, will you permit me to close his eyes?’
‘I would be most grateful if you would, Miss Kenton.’
She began to climb the staircase, but I stopped her, saying:
‘Miss Kenton, please don’t think me unduly improper in not ascending to see my father in his deceased condition just at this moment. You see, I know my father would have wished me to carry on just now.’
Of course, Mr Stevens.’
‘To do otherwise, I feel, would be to let him down.’
‘Of course, Mr Stevens.’
I turned away, the bottle of port still on my tray, and reentered the smoking room. That relatively small room appeared to be a forest of black dinner jackets, grey hair and cigar smoke. I wended my way past the gentlemen, searching for glasses to replenish. M. Dupont tapped my shoulder and said:
‘Butler, have you seen to my arrangements?’
‘I am very sorry, sir, but assistance is not immediately available at this precise moment.’
‘What do you mean, butler? You’ve run out of basic medical supplies?’
‘As it happens, sir, a doctor is on his way.’
‘Ah, very good! You called a doctor.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good, good.’
M. Dupont resumed his conversation and I continued my way around the room for some moments. At one point, the German countess emerged from the midst of the gentlemen and before I had had a chance to serve her, began helping herself to some port from my tray.
‘You will compliment the cook for me, Stevens,’ she said.
‘Of course, madam. Thank you, madam.’
‘And you and your staff did well also.’
‘Thank you most kindly, madam.’
‘At one point during dinner, Stevens, I would have sworn you were at least three people,’ she said and laughed.
I laughed quickly and said:
‘I’m delighted to be of service, madam.’
A moment later, I spotted the young Mr Cardinal not far away, still standing on his own, and it struck me the young gentleman might be feeling somewhat overawed in the present company. His glass, in any case, was empty and so I started towards him. He seemed greatly cheered at the prospect of my arrival and held out his glass.
‘I think it’s admirable that you’re a nature-lover, Stevens,’ he said, as I served him. ‘And I dare say it’s a great advantage to Lord Darlington to have someone to keep an expert eye on the activities of the gardener.’
‘I’m sorry, sir?’
‘Nature, Stevens. We were talking the other day about the wonders of the natural world. And I quite agree with you, we are all much too complacent about the great wonders that surround us.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I mean, all this we’ve been talking about. Treaties and boundaries and reparations and occupations. But Mother Nature just carries on her own sweet way. Funny to think of it like that, don’t you think?’
‘Yes, indeed it is, sir.’
‘I wonder if it wouldn’t have been better if the Almighty had created us all as – well – as sort of plants. You know, firmly embedded in the soil. Then none of this rot about wars and boundaries would have come up in the first place.’
The young gentleman seemed to find this an amusing thought. He gave a laugh, then on further thought laughed some more. I joined him in his laughter. Then he nudged me and said:
‘Can you imagine it, Stevens?’ and laughed again.
‘Yes, sir,’ I said, laughing also, ‘it would have been a most curious alternative.’
‘But we could still have chaps like you taking messages back and forth, bringing tea, that sort of thing. Otherwise, how would we ever get anything done? Can you imagine it, Stevens? All of us rooted in the soil? Just imagine it!’
Just then a footman emerged behind me.
‘Miss Kenton is wishing to have a word with you, sir,’ he said.
I excused myself from Mr Cardinal and moved towards the doors.
I noticed M. Dupont apparently guarding them and as I approached, he said:
‘Butler, is the doctor here?’
‘I am just going to find out, sir. I won’t be a moment.’
‘I am in some pain.’
‘I’m very sorry, sir. The doctor should not be long now.’
On this occasion, M. Dupont followed me out of the door. Miss Kenton was once more standing out in the hall.
‘Mr Stevens,’ she said, ‘Dr Meredith has arrived and gone upstairs.’
She had spoken in a low voice, but M. Dupont behind me exclaimed immediately:
‘Ah, good!’
I turned to him and said:
‘If you will perhaps follow me, sir.’
I led him into the billiard room where I stoked the fire while he sat down in one of the leather chairs and began to remove his shoes.
‘I’m sorry it is rather cold in here, sir. The doctor will not be long now.’
‘Thank you, butler. You’ve done well.’
Miss Kenton was still waiting for me in the hallway and we ascended through the house in silence. Up in my father’s room, Dr Meredith was making some notes and Mrs Mortimer weeping bitterly. She was still wearing her apron which, evidently, she had been using to wipe away her tears; as a result there were grease marks all over her face, giving her the appearance of a participant in a minstrel show. I had expected the room to smell of death, but on account of Mrs Mortimer – or else her apron – the room was dominated by the smell of roasting.
Dr Meredith rose and said:
‘My condolences, Stevens. He suffered a severe stroke. If it’s any comfort to you, he wouldn’t have suffered much pain. There was nothing in the world you could have done to save him.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘I’ll be on my way now. You’ll see to arrangements?’
‘Yes, sir. However, if I may, there is a most distinguished gentleman downstairs in need of your attention.’
‘Urgent?’
‘He expressed a keen desire to see you, sir.’
I led Dr Meredith downstairs, showed him into the billiard room, then returned quickly to the smoking room where the atmosphere, if anything, had grown even more convivial.
Of course, it is not for me to suggest that I am worthy of ever being placed alongside the likes of the ‘great’ butlers of our generation, such as Mr Marshall or Mr Lane – though it should be said there are those who, perhaps out of misguided generosity, tend to do just this. Let me make clear that when I say the conference of 1923, and that night in particular, constituted a turning point in my professional development, I am speaking very much in terms of my own more humble standards. Even so, if you consider the pressures contingent on me that night, you may not think I delude myself unduly if I go so far as to suggest that I did perhaps display, in the face of everything, at least in some modest degree a ‘dignity’ worthy of someone like Mr Marshall – or come to that, my father. Indeed, why should I deny it? For all its sad associations, whenever I recall that evening today, I find I do so with a large sense of triumph.
Day two afternoon
Mortimer’s Pond, Dorset
It would seem there is a whole dimension to the question ‘what is a “great” butler?’ I have hitherto not properly considered. It is, I must say, a rather unsettling experience to realize this about a matter so close to my heart, particularly one I have given much thought to over the years. But it strikes me I may have been a little hasty before in dismissing certain aspects of the Hayes Society’s criteria for membership. I have no wish, let me make clear, to retract any of my ideas on ‘dignity’ and its crucial link with ‘greatness’. But I have been thinking a little more about that other pronouncement made by the Hayes Society – namely the admission that it was a prerequisite for membership of the Society that ‘an applicant be attached to a distinguished household.’ My feeling remains, no less than before, that this represents a piece of unthinking snobbery on the part of the Society. However, it occurs to me that perhaps what one takes objection to is, specifically, the outmoded understanding of what a ‘distinguished household’ is, rather than to the general principle being expressed. Indeed, now that I think further on the matter, I believe it may well be true to say it is a prerequisite of greatness that one ‘be attached to a distinguished household’ – so long as one takes ‘distinguished’ here to have a meaning deeper than that understood by the Hayes Society.
In fact, a comparison of how I might interpret ‘a distinguished household’ with what the Hayes Society understood by that term illuminates sharply, I believe, the fundamental difference between the values of our generation of butlers and those of the previous generation. When I say this, I am not merely drawing attention to the fact that our generation had a less snobbish attitude as regards which employers were landed gentry and which were ‘business.’ What I am trying to say – and I do not think this an unfair comment – is that we were a much more idealistic generation. Where our elders might have been concerned with whether or not an employer was titled, or otherwise from one of the ‘old’ families, we tended to concern ourselves much more with the moral status of an employer. I do not mean by this that we were preoccupied with our employers’ private behaviour. What I mean is that we were ambitious, in a way that would have been unusual a generation before, to serve gentlemen who were, so to speak, furthering the progress of humanity. It would have been seen as a far worthier calling, for instance, to serve a gentleman such as Mr George Ketteridge, who, however humble his beginnings, has made an undeniable contribution to the future well-being of the empire, than any gentleman however aristocratic his origin, who idled away his time in clubs or on golf courses.
In practice, of course, many gentlemen from the noblest families have tended to devote themselves to alleviating the great problems of the day, and so, at a glance, it may have appeared that the ambitions of our generation differed little from those of our predecessors. But I can vouch there was a crucial distinction in attitude, reflected not only in the sorts of things you would hear fellow professionals express to each other, but in the way many of the most able persons of our generation chose to leave one position for another. Such decisions were no longer a matter simply of wages, the size of staff at one’s disposal or the splendour of a family name; for our generation, I think it fair to say, professional prestige lay most significantly in the moral worth of one’s employer.
I believe I can best highlight the difference between the generations by expressing myself figuratively. Butlers of my father’s generation, I would say, tended to see the world in terms of a ladder – the houses of royalty, dukes and the lords from the oldest families placed at the top, those of ‘new money’ lower down and so on, until one reached a point below which the hierarchy was determined simply by wealth – or the lack of it. Any butler with ambition simply did his best to climb as high up this ladder as possible, and by and large, the higher he went, the greater was his professional prestige. Such are, of course, precisely the values embodied in the Hayes Society’s idea of a ‘distinguished household’, and the fact that it was confidently making such pronouncements as late as 1929 shows clearly why the demise of that society was inevitable, if not long overdue. For by that time, such thinking was quite out of step with that of the finest men emerging to the forefront of our profession. For our generation, I believe it is accurate to say, viewed the world not as a ladder, but more as a wheel. Perhaps I might explain this further.
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