I see—nomore—
I see—nomore—
[Dimsdell falls.
Throng, confused and amazed, closes around Dimsdell.Cries of horror and apprehension.
Governor.Look to our brother Dimsdell. He faints;The heat hath overcome him.
Roger.I am a doctor. Make room!The falling sickness. Give us breathing space!
Governor.Hester, thou art discharged. Let all go home!
Governor.Hester, thou art discharged. Let all go home!
[Exeunt.
top
Scene I.—Interior of Hester's home. Furniture Dutch-English, comfortable and handsome. Windows draped in scarlet-fringed curtains with scarlet cross-cords, simulating the letter "A." Rich needle work in the hangings and other accessories. A cradle L., near it a table with a quarto Bible.Hesterdiscovered bending over cradle, then sits R.C. and takes up a piece of embroidery (the letter "A" in scarlet on a dark background).
Hester.God bless the little darling, how she sleeps!Had I but thought that all my heart would beatWithin the tender compass of her arms,I had not prayed she might not be. But now,Although unasked she came, unasked she broughtA wealth of love and blessing to my soul.
[Sits and embroiders.]
Thus Providence, although it pierce the heart,Works into it some glorious design;Which on this under side of life is blurred,Thread over thread in infinite confusion.Or, if we are not made of firmest texture,The work pulls through, or tears an ugly rent,Or gathers up our woof in meshy tangles.This is a world of worn and fretted ends,topKnit in a maze of fearful intricacy,Wherein we see no meaning. Nor can we knowThe hidden shuttles of Eternity,That weave the endless web of living, loving,And begetting, whereby a filamentOf earth takes on the likeness of an angel.The primal burden of our race-existence,Mankind's perpetual perpetuation,Weighs on weak womanhood; we bear the raceAnd all its natural ills, yet still our fellows,Who proudly call themselves our lords and masters,Do heap upon us petty wrongs, and loadUs down with their oppressions. I cannot tellWhat rich reward my suffering may bring,But bide the piercing, like this patient cloth,In hope the needle carries golden thread.
Enter aMaid-Servant.
What is it?
Servant.Madam, a gentleman would speak with you.
Hester.Bid him enter.
Hester.Bid him enter.
[Exit Servant.
Methought I heard my husband's dreaded voiceSpeak to me on the pillory. WhatIf he lives, or hath arisen from the deadTo reckon with me now? Well, let him come;For this strong heart outcast from sympathyHath turned back on itself in double strength;And all the puny woman of my mind,Burned in the furnace of my sex's scorn,Plunged in the icy vat of love's neglect,Hath tempered hard. I fear him not.
top
EnterRoger Prynne, shaved, and dressed as a doctor of medicine.
Roger himself!
Roger.Thou didst provide snug quarters, Hester, against my coming. Aye, and hast furnished them better than I bade thee.
Hester.The cost was small; my needle and myenergy—
Roger.Have done the work; yea, and supplied the cradle also. Ah! 'tis a brave piece of work; very beautiful and delicate; the lusty offspring of lustful parents. Somewhat costly, I should think, and asked some pains. Methinks, thou hadst some help with that; or was it thy needle or thy energy which wrought this dainty bit?
Hester.Touch not the child; 'tis mine, thou hast no part in it.
Roger.Too true. But calm thyself. I have not harmed the brat, nor did I touch it. [Looking around.] I like thy taste, Hester. A handsome house to hold a handsome woman.
Hester.The house is thine; let me and my babe depart.
Roger.Nay, keep the house, 'twill shelter you; I do not need it.
Hester.I will not have it.
Roger.Will not, Madam Hester, is a strong word to use to your wedded lord and master. I say you shall; yea, and, furthermore, here is provision for the child and thee.
[Throwing purse upon the table.]
Hester.Take up thy purse. I who have done thee wrong will not henceforth eat thy bread.
Roger.Wrong, Hester. Done me wrong? Wronged me?topNay, Hester, wronged thyself; wronged thine innocent babe; wronged the world; wronged whom thou wilt, but not wronged me! To wake me from a doting dream—that was not wrong! A dream of woman's purity and innocence; a foolish dream of married happiness between thy youth and my decrepitude; to put an end to such a madness, surely was not wrong! Wronged me? Thy levity hath righted my poor mind, which, pondering o'er thy beauties, listed to one side.
Hester.Oh! pardon me!
Roger.Pardon thee? yea, why should I not? I do pardon thee; yea, more, I do applaud thine act. Thou wast no slothful servant; thou didst not fear the coming of thy lord; thou puttest all to use and gottest cent per cent. Therefore, the care I show for thee is hire and wages; it is thy due, accept it freely.
Hester.Let me and my babe depart. Receive thy money and thy house, I can take nothing from thee. Ah! if I could I would return thee every penny I have spent of thine.
Roger.Wait till I ask thee to account. What! am I so old, and yet not know the cost of dalliance? Nothing dearer. And he who eared my field during my absence, being now, in thy abasement, so chary of his presence, spent little of his gold, I'll warrant. Who is he, Hester?
Hester.Thou shalt never know.
Roger.Never's a long word, Hester; it stretches beyond the judgment into eternity. Come, I'll know him then, tell me now.
Hester.He is a scholar and can cope with thee; thou canst not find him.
top
Roger.If he do walk the earth, I'll find him out; if he be now in Hell, I'll follow him; where'er he be, his peace is forfeited and Iwill—
Hester.What wilt thou do to him?
Roger.Nothing, Hester, nothing. I merely wish to thank him for the love he showed thee during my absence, whereby thou didst mourn for me the less.
Hester.Thou wilt not kill him?
Roger.What a silly thing thou hast become, now thou hast left the path of virtue! Do I kill thee? Am I dangerous? Is there force in this withered body to harm a lusty knave, a brave seducer of ripe womanhood?
Hester.Nay, do not harm him.
Roger.At thy request, mistress.
Hester.The fault was mine.
Roger.No doubt 'twas thine alone.
Hester.Wreak vengeance then on me alone.
Roger.I have none.
Hester.I would I could believe thee.
Roger.As well give faith to me as him. But, truly, Hester, I had thought these puritans, these pilgrim fathers, had left all fleshly lusts behind them with their vanities in England. He must be a rare bird in these parts—O, I shall know him by his plumage!
Hester.He's safe enough.
Roger.Perhaps, but then these poachers, who fish in others' ponds, are proud of their achievements. They will talk. They brag in their cups and strut and ogle when they're sober.
Hester.I'll warn him of thee.
top
Roger.Thou wilt do nothing of the kind. But come, Hester, man and wife ought not to quarrel. Let us set a good example to the world in peace if not in chastity. Sit you here and listen to me.
Hester.Well?
Roger.Hester, I loved thee when thou wast a babe,A prattling child no taller than my knee,A pretty little innocent, a totThat wavered in its walk and won my heartBy tender trustfulness. Thou'dt leave thy father,Mother, all, to nestle in these armsThe whiles I told some worn out fairy tale,Or sang of Robin Hood.That was before thy mind did take its shape,And subsequent events have blotted outAll memories of thy babyhood.
Hester.Nay, but I do recall, as in a haze,Some of the incidents of infancy.
Roger.Perhaps. Hester, thou wast the dearest childThat ever blest fond parents, unfolding sweetThy mother's beauties and thy father's strength.And canst thou now remember who made himselfA child to play with thee vain, foolish games;Who taught thee out of books such lessons asThy little mind could grasp?
Hester.It was thou.
Roger.Then, as thou didst grow toward womanhood,Some fifteen springs, thy gentle mother died;A woman beautiful and pure, as sweetlyIgnorant of all her charms as isThe hyacinth.
top
Hester.Mother! Mother!
Roger.Pray God the saints see nothing here on earth:Or else that in their golden paradiseSome sleepy potion dull their sympathiesWith us: for who could look upon this world,And see mankind divested of the liesThat make our comeliness; or, with an eye undimmed,Behold the brutal tragedies of life;And yet find happiness or peace in Heaven?Hell's flames would reach unto the tree of lifeItself and singe thy mother's heart, if sheCould see that scarlet letter on thy breast.
[Hester covers her face and moans.]
Great God! what thread of continuityDoth string the whirling incidents of life?This woman was that maid whose purityExcelled imagination's greatest reach;Whose happiness sang ever like the larkArising from the earth to soar in Heaven!And now behold her dyed in scarlet sin,Branded with infamy, and moaning hereIn deepest anguish!Nay, come; let out thy grief in linkéd words,For this tooth-gated dumb remorse will herdThy thoughts until they gore each other.Hester, thy strength is greater than to yieldThus to thy misery; do not lashThy heart into a fury; never blowThe tiny sparks of painInto the flaming coals of Hell.topThat sinning soul is traitor to itselfThat leagues its bruiséd thoughts with imps of HellTo torture conscience.
Hester.Leave me, I pray you.
Roger.Not yet, else were my visit bootless.Hester, I will not dwell upon thy lifeFrom year to year, nor drag thy colliered soulBack to its days of spotless innocence.Thy father's amity for me, thou knowest,And how, upon his death, I stood toward theeIn place of parents.
Hester.Would you had remained a father to me!
Roger.I loved thee, Hester; daughter, sister, sweetheart,You were to me. And you did love me too,And as an elder brother looked on meIn gentle confidence.So did the years post by in th' dim afterglowThat comes to agéd men; while love with theeWas in the dawning; a tender sky with bothOf us, my sun already set; and thineNot yet arisen; nor did it ever riseTo shine on me, fool that I was!
Hester.I never loved you, should not have married you;Knew nothing then of love except the name.
Roger.Aye, you loved me, and you loved me not;Hester, I wronged thee when I married thee;The fault was mine, old as I was, to hopeTo still the sweet necessities of youthWith passionless love; nature demands her due,And we should know, while love may grow at home,topPassion requires some novelty.
Hester.We both have done foul wrong unto each other,And, as this world doth judge, mine is the greater.
Roger.Yet thou wast tempted by thy youth, my absence,A handsome lover's importunity:But what can be said for me, old as I was,To drive and badger thy chaste ignoranceTo marry mine infirmities?
Hester.How can I right this wrong?
Roger.And wouldst thou if thou couldst?
Hester.Aye, if I could; but yet these broken lives,Cracked by my fall, no putty will make whole.
Roger.Yet canst thou veil my ruin, and o'er me hangThe drapery of silence. Dost consent?
Hester.Aye, but how?
Roger.But swear to me thou wilt conceal my name,Nor ever claim relationship with me,Until I bid thee.
Hester.Wherefore the vow?
Roger.Because I wish it;Perhaps, because I would not bear the scorn,The petty taunts, the contumelious looks,That ever greet the cuckold husband.
Hester.Then will I take the oath.
Roger.Swear by the book, and also by the babe,Never to breathe my rightful name;Never to claim me as thy husband;Never to leave this place.
Hester.Wherefore not leave the place?
Roger.Swear, woman, swear!topNever to leave this place, until I bid thee.
Hester.I swear to all these things.
Roger.Swear once again; never to tell thy paramourThy husband lives and walks these streets.
Hester.I swear to keep thy counsel as I have keptHis and mine own.
Roger.Remember then, from this time on, my nameIs Chillingworth, no longer Prynne, for thatI will not bear. [Going] Hester, farewell.Yet ere I go, Hester, behold my mind:I love thee still; but with a chastened heartMade wise by sorrow. Day after day, as thouDost wend thy way about this mazy world,My care will shield thee and thy little babe.Do not repulse it. I have no hope that thouWilt think of me without revulsion;Then hate me if thou must; but spare the thoughtThat ever thou didst take my hateful kisses,Or clasp those soft warm arms about my thin,Cold carcass.Do not despise thy beauties that I onceDid own them. Forget it, Hester, for such a marriageWas my infamy, and I it was
Who sinned against thy youth. Farewell!
Who sinned against thy youth. Farewell!
[Exit.
Scene II.—A Churchyard. A bell ringing for service. Groups of people standing about. Persons cross stage and enter church door on extreme L.
Bronson.They say the Reverend Master Dimsdell hathRecovered from his fainting fit, and will,topGod willing, preach to us this afternoon.
Langdon.Aye, that he will.
Arnold.But hath he come?
Ward.Not yet;He's late, but, whether here or elsewhere,He's always doing good.
Bronson.A kindly man!His feet do tread th' o'ergrown path that leadsUnto the poor man's door.
Langdon.Aye, that they do!And, in the darkened hour of mortal grief,His presence like a lamp gives light and hope.
Arnold.His charity exceeds all human bounds,And, though he's blameless in himself, knows howTo pardon others.
Ward.Aye, that he doth! Didst noteHis plea for Hester Prynne upon her trial?
Langdon.Aye, that I did!
Ward.But know the goodness of it!He was her constant friend up to the timeHer wantonness declared itself, and thenHe left her lonely, as though that punishmentWere all a man of mercy could inflict.
Arnold.He takes it much to heart that wanton viceHath found a nest within his congregation.
Langdon.That grief is truly great with him; but yetHe will not hear a word against her.—Look!For here she comes.How bravely doth she wear her scarlet letter!
top
EnterHester Prynnealone; walks proudly, with slow steps, to porch and enters church; looking neither to the right nor to the left, but straight before her, with her head up. People turn to look at her, but no one speaks.
First Woman.The brazen thing!
Second Woman.Didst note the fashion of her badge of vice,And how she's turned it into ornament?
Third Woman.A handy woman with her needle.
First Woman.Let's in and stare her out of countenance.
First Woman.Let's in and stare her out of countenance.
[Exeunt Women.
EnterGovernor BellinghamandRoger Prynne, called Doctor Chillingworth.
Governor.Now, as I told you, there hath lately come,But how I know not, a change in him so rare,It baffles cure.
Roger.I think you said he isA very studious man?
Governor.Aye, that he is.Good evening, gentlemen.
All.Your worship.
Roger.I pray you, tell me more.
Governor.Nay, use your eyes,For here he is.
EnterRev. Arthur Dimsdell. People uncover as he passes. He salutes them gravely and generally.
Dimsdell, a word with you.
Dimsdell.Good evening, gentlemen.
Governor.Dimsdell, here is good Doctor Chillingworth,Who tended thee. I hope you gentlementopWill prize each other at your native worths.
Dimsdell.I shall be glad to know you better, Doctor.
Roger.And I, to see you better, sir.
Dimsdell.Pardon me, I must in; I'm late already.
Exit Dimsdell—all follow except Governor Bellingham and Roger Prynne. Bell ceases.
Governor.How weak a hold we have on health! That manIs but the standing ruin of his former self,And yet, for beauty, comeliness and grace,He still is model to the colony.What do you think, can care restore him yet,And give him to us as he used to be?
Roger.I cannot tell. I need more knowledge of him.There are no marks of curelessmalady—A faint suggestion of overwatchfulness,That oft points out the student—nothing more.
Hymn from church. (Tune: "Ein' feste Burg" or other ancient hymn used by the Puritans.)
Governor.The worship hath begun; but, ere we in,A word about the wealth you left with me.
Roger.No more. Pray use it as your own, in trade,Or howsoe'er you choose. The largest pearlAn Indian chief did give me; but sell it withThe rest, and with their worth provide for Hester.She is the widow of mine ancient friend,To whom I ever shall be much indebted,And while I would not have her know me yetAs what I am—her husband's friend andhers—As that might breed more grief in her, or waketopAn old one—yet I think it meet to careFor her and for her child.
Governor.Your goodness isYour passport, Doctor. Come, let us in.—Nay,
After you; you are my guest.
After you; you are my guest.
[Exeunt.
Scene III.—Bed room of theRev. Arthur Dimsdell. Night.Dimsdell, alone in the dark.
Dimsdell.O, she is beautiful!The memory of her lovelinessPervades my waking dreams, and, pleasant theft,Deprives my sleep of dark oblivion.And thus, while fleeing from the gentle bondsOf love, I am become the thrall of passion,And sigh my heart away in waste desire!Had I but truly loved her,Would not our joys, that then were innocent,Have moulded soul to soul and made mine takeThe form of her most dear perfections?But, now!No trait of Hester's noble purityRemains with guilty me, for I purloinedHer precious diadem and like a rogueI cast that crown away, afraid to wearWhat would have been my dearest ornament.Why can I not repent? Or is it trueRepentance is denied the hypocrite?And must it then forever be that, thoughI cast out sin, both root and branch, the seedOf evil, scattered long ago, will sprouttopAnd bloom carnation thoughts that dull the soulWith subtle sweetness!Oh! coward that I am!Bound down, as to a rock, to form and place,By iron chains of worldly precedent,While my desires like eagles tear my breast,And make of me a base Prometheus.O, God!I married all the family of sins,When I espoused the pleasantest; I amBecome a liar through my lechery,A thief of reputation through my cowardice,And—puh! the rest but follow in the trainOf my dear wedded crime!O, God! and shall this lust burn on in meStill unconsumed? Can flagellation, fasting,Nor fervent prayer itself, not cleanse my soulFrom its fond doting on her comeliness?Oh! heaven! is there no way for me to jumpMy middle age and plunge this burning heartInto the icy flood of cold decay?None? O, wretched state of luxury!This hot desire grows even in its deathAnd from its ashes doth arise full fledgedRenewed eternally!
A blinding flash of lightning, followed quickly by sharp thunder, discloses Dimsdell kneeling at his couch, and also showsSatan—an archangel with bat wings—who has just entered.
Have mercy upon me, O, my God, have mercy!topAccording to thy gentle lovingkindness,According to the multitude of allThy tender mercies, blot out my foul transgression.Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean;Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow;Hide thy face from my sins, and blot outAll mine iniquities.
Satan.You mar the psalm, Sir priest, for you omitThe saving clause. Your sin is unconfessed.
Dimsdell.Who art thou that durst interpose betweenMy soul and God?
Satan.I am the stronger part of lower nature,The worser part of all that came from HimWhom all adore. Behold me!
Satan becomes visible by light emanating from himself.
Dimsdell.Thou art Satan! The Prince of Hell!
Satan.I am so called.
Dimsdell.Get thee hence! I am a ministerOf God, a priest, and am anointed of the LordTo teach His children.
Satan.And, therefore, am I come to thee, Sir priest.I do confess a predilection forThy calling; conclaves, synods, convocations,Are never held without my guiding presence;They are my field days and my exercises,While in the study and the cell I takeMy cloistered ease. I love all priests and amThe bosom friend of many who would blushTo speak to me in public. Receive me, brother.
top
Dimsdell.Scorner, avaunt! Sink to the hell from whenceThou cam'st! I do abhor thee, Satan; yea,I tell thee to thy face that I who quailBefore the awful majesty of God,And cowardly do hide my sin from man,I tell thee, vile as I am, I do detestThy very name! I do defy thee!
Satan.These words are very brave; if more than wind,Go to the market place tomorrow, thereProclaim thy vice; or else ascend thy pulpitAnd denounce thyself as what thou art, adulterer.
Dimsdell.Recreant to my God am I; think'st thouThat I will thee obey, to whom I oweNo deep allegiance?
Satan.Then bare thy sinful breast, for here I swear,By that dread Name which mortals cannot hear,I will upon thee print a mark, the stigmaOf thy secret crime.
Dimsdell.Hold off! I charge thee by that other NameOf Him who rent thy kingdom, and will destroy it,Touch me not yet!Almighty Purity, Dread Essence Increate;Behold concentrate, in this wicked form,The universal spirit of iniquity.Come quickly in thy majesty, O Lord!Wither him here within the awful flameOf Thy bright Holiness! Shrivel his frameInto an atom, and blow the lifeless dustBeyond the farthest star.And, if in his destruction my soul should sharetopThrough close proximity, spare not!Then will Thy servants serve Thee, Gracious Lord!And mankind find its paradise!
Satan.That was well said!Perhaps, Sir priest, you now will treat me toA learned disquisition on the birthOf evil? I'd like to hear it, if it treadBeyond theology's well beaten path;But, if it stumbles in the pug-mill roundOf teleology, you must excuse me.
Dimsdell.Base siege of scorn! I curse thee!
Satan.Curses but belch foul wind, they pass beyond me.But, come; I have no time to waste with thee;This visitation had not been, nor wouldI dignify thy carnal slip by myIncarnate presence, but for thy perfidy.For thou hast reached a depth of moral basenessBelow the meanest fiend in lowest hell;Thou hast deserted her who sinned with thee,Gave up her virtue to express her love,Laid down her treasure to thy secret lust,And then took up thy burden with her own.Think not I come to draft thee of my legions,I would not have so weak, so mean a coward,To sow pale fear among them. No!Thou wilt be damned outside of Hell. I comeTo show, as in a mirror, what thou art;Not what thou shalt be. The past and present bothAre mine, the future rests with God. But now,
Hester's image appears in a cloud dressed in white.
top
Behold the woman as thou first didst know her,A loveliness to tempt or saint or devil,The rare quintessence of pure womanhood!Transparent brightness! A living crystal globe,Wherein all beauties of humanityReflect themselves with iridescent glow!Dost thou remember?Behold her now the mother of thy babe,
The image of Hester changes. She holds their babe in her arms.
Whose pretty wiles would win hard Moloch's heart;Make him forget his rites, and turn man-nurse.O, fool! I would renounce my war with Heaven,Eat up my pains in one most bitter mouthful,And sue for pardon from God's hated Throne,If such an offspring might but call me father!Where is thy manly pride?But, now, behold her shamed, bearing the badge
Hester's image wears Scarlet Letter "A."
Of thy foul infamy. Tear wide thy shirt,For as thou look'st on her I will impressUpon thy breast a stigma worse than hers.Aye, fall upon thy knees to worship herThe Lady of the Scarlet Letter.Yet while thou kneel'st thy flesh doth glow and burn
Scarlet Letter "A" glows on Dimsdell's breast.
With all the deep red heraldry befitsA coward lust: the latter "A" in gulestopUpon thy sable heart. There let it gnawForever and forever!
Hester vanishes. Satan fades. No light, save "A" on Dimsdell's breast.
And, now I go, I put this curse upon thee:Be coward still, wear outwardly the garbOf righteousness, shake in thy pious shoes,Cover the stigma on thy breast from eyesOf flesh, and be a hypocrite, till deathRelieves the world of thee. We'll meet again.
[Lightning. Exit Satan. Dimsdell lies in trance.Night. No sound, no light.
top
Scene I.—The garden of Governor Bellingham.Roger Prynne, called Chillingworth, alone.
Roger.The fox that robbed my roost is sly; he keepsThe cover warily; and, now the scentIs cold, the curs that yelp in scandal's packBay loud on many faults, but cannot trace him.
EnterDiggory.
Diggory.Doctor, the Governor will join you presently.
Roger.Diggory, I will await him patiently.
Roger.Diggory, I will await him patiently.
[Sits.
Diggory retires, then returns.
Diggory.Doctor, may I beg a word with you?
Roger.A thousand if you will.
Diggory.I would speak in confidence.
Roger.The manner would become thee, Diggory. But speak, man! Say on.
Diggory.I need a philter, Doctor. For the love ofmercy—
Roger.For the love of good liquor, Diggory, thou shalt have twenty filters. Still decanting?
Diggory.O, sir! not that kind of filter. I'm in love!
Roger.Ah! thou art in love? In love didst thou say?
Diggory.Aye, sir, if it please you.
Roger.It pleases me well enough; how doth it please the lady?
top
Diggory.She's not a lady, sir, thank God! she's but a simple maiden, and it pleaseth her not.
Roger.A simple maid refuses you! Ah! Diggory, Diggory, be thankful for the good things God hath sent thee.
Diggory.Truly, sir, I thank Him ev'ry day; but, sir, as I do desire the maiden—I—I—would have her too.
Roger.And so, Diggory, thou wouldst have me aid thee in this folly, and give thee a love potion?
Diggory.Aye, sir, begging your honor's pardon.
Roger.But why dost thou ask me, Diggory? Dost thou take me for an herb-doctor, or a necromancer, or what?
Diggory.My master, the Governor, says you are a very learned man, a what-you-call-'em—a scientist; and a scientist can do anything.
Roger.Humph!—Diggory, I do not deal in philters; they are out of date—but I know a charm will win her love.
Diggory.Tell it me for the loveof—
Roger.Thou wilt betray it, Diggory.
Diggory.Never! Never!
Roger.Omit thou but a word of it, and the maiden's lost to thee—but con it well, and all her beauties will be thine.
Diggory.Oh! Doctor!
Roger.Take of the rendered grease of three black bears—do not fail in that—anoint thy curlylocks—
Diggory.My hair is straight.
Roger.Never mind—but rub; and, as thou dost, repeat these words:
Lady love, lady love, where e'er thou be,Think of no man but only me;Love me, and wed me, and call me thine own,Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, Joan.
top
Diggory.What is that "Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling"?
Roger.That is the chief element of the charm—don't forget it. Having done this on nine successive days—dost thou follow me?
Diggory.Aye, sir.
Roger.On the tenth go to the barber's and have thy hair cut short.
Diggory.But, sir, my hair is my best feature!
Roger.It is with many; cut it, however, or lose the worth of all of the charm. Dost thou hear, Diggory? Cut thy hair short or never win fair woman. Farewell.
Diggory.I thank you, sir. [Going] "Lady love, ting-a-ling"—nay, that's not it.
Roger.Diggory!
Diggory.Yes, sir.
Roger.Who are with the Governor?
Diggory.The worthy ministers, Master Wilson and Master Dimsdell.
Roger.Very well.
Roger.Very well.
[Exit Diggory, trying to recall the verse.
Ah! Diggory, thou art but a dram of love in a fluid ounce of fool! And so may we label all mankind. For instance: the Governor is a wise man and a politic; Wilson a good man and a pious; Dimsdell—ah! there I pause, for what fine formula can sum the qualities of that same Arthur Dimsdell? He's not a fool; nor mad; nor truly cataleptic—yet he's moody, falls in trance, and I suspect his power as a preacher comes from ecstasy. Something he is akin to genius—yet he hath it not, for though his aim be true enough, he often flashes in the pan when genius would have hit the mark. I'll write his case in Latin! What a studytopthat would be if I could first find out the reason why he clutches at his breast!—If once I find him in a trance, alone—ah! here they come.
EnterGovernor Bellingham,Rev. John Wilson,Rev. Arthur Dimsdell, and following them, with a tray of wine,Diggory.
Wilson.Good morrow, Doctor.
Roger.Good morning, gentlemen.
Governor.[To Diggory.] Leave the wine within the summer house. Good morning, Doctor. When Mistress Prynne doth come conduct her hither.
Diggory.Sir, she's coming this way now.
Governor.Very well. Go. [Exit Diggory.] Doctor, we debate what disposition should be made of Hester Prynne's young child. We ask your aid—but here she is.
EnterHester Prynne.
Hester.Your worship hath been pleased to summon meTo bring my child before you.
Governor.Where is the child?
Hester.The babe is sick but answers by attorney.What is your will?
Governor.Some pious matrons, Hester,Have charged that thou art not a person fitTo rear that infant immortality,And guide it unto God.
Hester.God gave the childIn rich exchange for all things else which I,Poor sinful I, had forfeited; and nowYou, who have made yourselves the flails of God,topWould separate the wheat from chaff beforeThe grain is ripe, and take her from me.Oh! ye are wise! No doubt ye see beyondThe purpose of Almighty God who gaveThe child to me!
Governor.Nay, take it not to heart,For, Hester, duty to the child we oweTo put its soul upon the way that leadsTo Heaven. She will be cared for tenderly.
Hester.She is the last small link that binds my soulTo earth, the tiny needle that doth pointMy way to Heaven. You shall not take her from me!Speak thou for me [To Dimsdell]; as my pastor speak;Speak now; and say if any harm from meWill hurt the child. I will not part with her!Say if thou canst, for thou hast sympathiesWhich these men lack, say what the mother's rightsAre in her child; and what those rights must beWhen naught beside the child is left toher—Her husband gone, her friends deserted,No reputation, no sympathy, nolove—But only those twin brands of shame, her babyAnd The Scarlet Letter!
Dimsdell.I have a dual duty to discharge;I am this woman's pastor—and her friend,And therefore she hath called me to defend her;I am, beside, a member of your council,And hence am with you in your consultation;And yet, I think, these duties may be madeTo yoke and draw me to a just conclusion.
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Wilson.Thou also hast a duty to the child.
Dimsdell.Aye, so I have. Our aim is well enough,But let us pause before we do adoptA means that varies from the one marked outBy God and Nature.
Governor.Is there not commandTo teach our children in the fear of GodAnd guide them from impurity?
Dimsdell.God gave us mothers when He gave us life,And to their tender care He did entrustThe mortal and immortal parts of us.What then? Would we improve upon His system;Would we now deprive this little oneOf that fond mother-care which nurtures her?Or would we put, in place of mother-love,The cold, hard, formal training of a paidInstructor?
Governor.But is this woman, stained with sin,A mother to entrust a child to?
Dimsdell.That question God hath answered; and we knowThe stain of sin doth fade beneath the bleachOf true repentance; through it all appearsThe woven figure of the woman-fabric—Her motherhood!We owe our lives to woman's suffering,We owe our health unto her temperance,We owe her all the best of us. Let GodCondemn her sin, but let us not presumeTo punish her where He hath healed her heart.
Wilson.There is weight in what he says.
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Roger.Yea, and earnestness!
Governor.Well, Hester, go thy way; the child is thine.Remember thou dost owe a gentle thanksUnto this pious man. Go, Hester, keepThe child. Think well upon his words; be thouA mother in all righteousness, as wellAs in thy sin. Farewell.