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diff --git a/31112.txt b/31112.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..92c9a25 --- /dev/null +++ b/31112.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3338 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Scarlet Stigma, by James Edgar Smith + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Scarlet Stigma + A Drama in Four Acts + +Author: James Edgar Smith + +Release Date: January 28, 2010 [EBook #31112] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCARLET STIGMA *** + + + + +Produced by Sigal Alon and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + + + + + + + + + The Scarlet Stigma + + + A Drama + In Four Acts + + + By + + JAMES EDGAR SMITH. + + + Founded upon Nathaniel Hawthorne's Novel, + "The Scarlet Letter." + + + WASHINGTON, D.C. + JAMES J. CHAPMAN, + 1899. + + + + + Copyright, 1899, by JAMES EDGAR SMITH. + + All rights reserved. + + + Press of George S. Krouse. Bindery of Edwin F. Price. + + WASHINGTON, D.C. + + + + +Stigmatization is a rare incident of ecstasy. Not many well +authenticated cases have been reported by competent medical +authorities, and yet there can be no doubt of its occasional +occurrence. See Encyclopaedia Britannica, article on Stigmatization +by Dr. Macalister, and references therein cited; also the work on +Nervous and Mental Diseases by Dr. Landon Carter Gray, page 511. +That it may occur in men of a high order of ability is instanced by +the case of St. Francis of Assisi. + +It ought not to be necessary to point out that the entire third +scene in the second act of this play is a dramatic transcript from +the diseased consciousness of Mr. Dimsdell, that the Satan of the +play is an hallucination, and that the impress of the stigma upon +Dimsdell's breast is merely the culmination of his auto-hypnotic +ecstasy, or trance. + + + + +PERSONS REPRESENTED. + + + ROGER PRYNNE, called _Chillingworth_, a physician. + ARTHUR DIMSDELL, a youthful divine. + JOHN WILSON, a good old minister. + BELLINGHAM, Governor of the Colony. + BUTTS, a sea captain. + SATAN, an hallucination of Dimsdell's. + BRONSON, } + WARD, } + LANGDON, } Members of the Governor's Council. + ARNOLD, } + DIGGORY, a servant to Governor Bellingham. + + HESTER PRYNNE, wife of Roger Prynne. + MARTHA WILSON, daughter of Rev. John Wilson. + URSULA, a nurse. + BETSEY, a milkmaid. + MOTHER CAREY, keeper of a sailor's inn. + + _A Clerk, a Crier, a Jailer, Councilors, Citizens, Soldiers, + Sailors, Indians, Servants._ + + SCENE--_Boston_. TIME--_June, 1668_. + + + + +THE SCARLET STIGMA. + + + + +ACT I. + + +SCENE I.--_A tavern and a street in front of it. Settles on porch. +SAILORS smoking and drinking. Enter CAPTAIN BUTTS, singing._ + +_Butts._ _The Margery D. was a trim little ship, + The men they could man, and the skipper could skip; + She sailed from her haven one fine summer day, + And she foundered at sea in the following way,-- + To-wit:_ + +_All._ _A-rinkety, clinkety, clink, clank, clank, + The liquor they bathed in, the spirits they drank; + A sailor at sea with three sheets in the wind + Can hardly be called, sirs, quite sober._ + +_Enter MOTHER CAREY, from Tavern._ + +_Carey._ Cap'n! Cap'n Butts! Gen'le gen'lemen! would ye rune a pore +widdy woman by a singing of sech filthy tunes? And me up for my +license again nex' Tuesday! + +_Butts._ Peace! Peace, Mother Carey, hear your chickens screech! +Come, boys! [_Singing._ + + _The captain was thirsty, and so was each man, + They ladled the grog out by cup and by can, + The night it was stormy, they knew not the place, + And they sang as they sank the following grace,-- + To-wit:_ + +_All._ _A-sinkety, sinkety, sink, sank, sunk, + Our captain is tipsy, our mate is quite drunk, + Our widows we leave to the world's tender care, + And we don't give a damn for the Devil!_ + + Ha! Ha! Ha! + +_Carey._ O, Lord! O, Lord! If the magistrates should hear that song, +they'd close my place! + +_Butts._ There, there now. [_Chucks her under the chin._] The +magistrates are not as quick to hear a sailor sing as thou art to +take his orders. Bring us a pint apiece. + +_Carey._ Thou naughty man! [_Slaps his jaws._] A pint apiece? [_Exit._ + +_Butts._ Aye. Now, lads, bargain out your time; ye'll not see a +petticoat for many a day. [_Lights pipe and sits._ + +_Sailors._ Aye, aye, sir. + +_CITIZENS cross stage, singly and in groups, all going in the same +direction. Enter MOTHER CAREY from house with ale, serves it, looks +up and down street as in expectation of some one, then goes in._ + +_Butts._ Mother Carey's lost one of her chicks. Here lads! here's +to the mousey Puritan lassies! They won't dance, they can't +sing--Ah! well! here's to them till we come again! [_All drink._ + +_Enter along the street two COUNCILORS._ + +_Arnold._ 'Tis very true; but, sir, though many break this law and +go unpunished, our godly Company should not wink at known adultery. + +_Langdon._ In other words, we must find scape-goats to bear our +sins. + +_Arnold._ Nay, not exactly that. We vindicate God's laws, and---- + [_Exeunt Councilors._ + +_Butts._ He must be Privy Councilor to the Lord Himself! + +_Enter a group of WOMEN._ + +_First Woman._ Her beauty, say'st thou? Pretty is as pretty does, +say I. I'd beauty her! Go to! Who knows the father of her brat; can +any tell? + +_Second Woman._ Thou dost not doubt thy goodman? + +_First Woman._ Trust none of them. I know mine own; dost thou know +thine? As for her she hath shamed our sex, and I would-- + [_Exeunt Women._ + +_Butts._ God's-my-life, there's more poison in their tongues than in +a nest of rattlesnakes? What's all this pother, lads? + +_Sailor._ There's a trial, sir, on a charge of bastardy. + +_Butts._ Ha! ha! ha! You rogues had better ship elsewhere; if the +wind sits in that quarter, you'll find foul weather here. + +_Sailors._ Ha! ha! ha! + +_More people cross the stage._ + +_Butts._ Cheapside on a holiday! + +_Re-enter MOTHER CAREY, dressed for walking._ + +_Carey._ O, dear! O, dear! I'll be late; I'm sure I'll be late. Oh! +dear, dear, dear! why will that Ursula still lag? + +_Butts._ What's the matter, Mother? + +_Carey._ Matter? Matter enough! a gentlewoman tried for adultery and +me sure to miss it all! [_Looks around._] Why doesn't Ursula come? +O, dear! O, dear!--why, here she is! + +_Enter URSULA._ + + What kept thee, Ursula? + +_Ursula._ Such a crowd! Whew! I'm out o' breath. [_Sits; one or two +pass over._] The town's run mad to look upon a gentlewoman shamed. +[_Citizens still pass._] Ah! there's no room for me now, but when +her labor came God knows there was no press! I had room enough then, +not one would lend a hand--fie! they are serpents, all of them; they +have double tongues to hiss, but ne'er a hand to help. + +_Carey._ Still talking to herself. Here, Ursula, take the keys and +wait upon the gentlemen. [_Hands keys to Ursula and exit up street._ + +_Ursula._ Let the gentlemen wait on me awhile. + +_Butts._ Would you have us die of thirst, Ursula? + +_Ursula._ What will you have, Captain? + +_Butts._ Stingo, Ursula, stingo! [_Exit Ursula in tavern._ + + What say you, lads, shall we see this trial? + +_Sailor._ Aye, aye, sir, the woman's fair to look upon. + +_Butts._ Then let us get our ballast in, hoist sail and tack away. + +_Re-enter URSULA with ale._ + + Who is it, Ursula, they try? + +_Ursula._ A gentle lady, sir. God's-my-life, had no man tempted +her--but, that's your ways, you tempt us, blame us when we yield, +and then make laws to punish us. + +_Butts._ But, what's her name? + +_Ursula._ What should it be but Hester Prynne? + +_Butts._ Hester Prynne? The gentle Mistress Prynne I brought from +Amsterdam three years ago? + +_Ursula._ The same, God bless her. + +_Butts._ My lads, don't wait for me. [_Exeunt Sailors._ + I knew her husband, Ursula; a man + Well versed in all the wisdom of the time; + Somewhat well gone in years, but lovable + Beyond the shallowness of youth, and rich + In mellow charity. Oft hath he sailed + With me from port to port where learning drew him, + And still came richer home. One day he shipped + For Amsterdam and brought his bride, who, like + A hawthorn in its pink of youth that blushes + 'Neath the shadow of an ancient elm, + Shed spring-time sweetness round his green old age. + I've seen them often in their Holland home, + Where wisdom laid its treasures at the feet + Of love, and beauty crowned the offering. + She was a lovely lady, Ursula, + And when her lord, still bent on learning more, + Resolved to come out to America-- + His own affairs then calling him to England-- + He placed her in my care, intending soon + To follow her. He did, but cursed fate! + His ship was lost--no one knows where! + +_Ursula._ Alack + The day! She had not sinned had he been here. + +_Butts._ But, didst thou know her, Ursula, as I + Have known her, wisely good and true, thou wouldst + Have wondered more. + +_Ursula._ Know her, sir! I nursed her! + +_Butts._ Thou, Ursula? + +_Ursula._ None but I! + +_Butts._ Where were her friends? + +_Ursula._ Where, but at home! Dear heart, + They shunned her like the plague--though if the truth + Were known, many that shun her now would keep + Her company perforce. None came near + But pious Master Dimsdell, and even he + Came only out of duty to her soul; + He told me so. + +_Butts._ The Reverend Master Dimsdell + And thou her only comforters? + +_Ursula._ Nay, + The little bairn was her greatest comfort, sir. + +_Butts._ How doth she bear her trouble, Ursula? + +_Ursula._ Like a good woman, sir. + +_Butts._ She yet is that! + But have you never learned her lover's name? + +_Ursula._ Nay, I never have. + +_Butts._ 'Tis strange that she + Should fall; and then endeavor to conceal + Her lover! Noble, wise and beautiful, + No other than a man of mark could win her! + +_Ursula._ A three years widow, baby three months old, + A coward run-a-gate of a lover, sir-- + Tell me, is there no exception made + By law for widows? + +_Butts._ None, of which I know. + +_Ursula._ The law is hard indeed! + +_Butts._ I wonder if + A rough sea-dog like me might speak a word + For her? + +_Ursula._ Aye, that you might! Go seek the good + Old Doctor Wilson, mercy dwells with him, + And he will aid you, sir. + +_Butts._ I'll go at once. + + [_Exeunt severally, Butts up street, Ursula in tavern._ + +_Enter ROGER PRYNNE, travel stained._ + +_Roger._ We are not masters of our paths, although + Our wills do seem to guide our faltering steps: + Ship voyagers are we, and roam at will + Within the narrow confines of the deck, + But neither plot nor steer the destined course. + I may have passed her house--I'll ask my way + Here at the inn. Long live King Boniface! + What ho! some wine! + +_Ursula._ [_Within_] Your patience, Captain, I'll be there anon. + +_Roger._ At your leisure, hostess; I've learned to wait. [_Sits._ + A bachelor at sixty, I found myself + Encumbered with a ward--nay, not that-- + Enriched with female loveliness and grace + Bequeathed unto me by a dying friend. + Volition had no part in that, nor in + My sudden recrudescency of love. + I willed our marriage; but 'twas fate bestowed + The joys I long had fled. Then came our life + In Amsterdam; each day so filled with bliss + It overflowed into the next, and days + Of joy grew into weeks and months of happiness-- + Let me have wine, I say! + +_Ursula._ [_Within_] Coming, sir! + +_Roger._ Anon the traveling itch--was't fate or will-- + Possessed my soul to see America, + And money matters calling me to London, + Where raged the plague, I sent my wife before me + To America with Captain Butts, then bound + For Boston. Ah! well-a-day, the parting!-- + I hurried up my business; fled London town; + Shipped for America; was wrecked far South; + Captured by Indians; escaping, wandered North + Until I found the white man's colonies; + And now footsore and old I've reached the place + I first intended. What next, O, Fate? + +_Enter URSULA._ + + Good morrow, hostess. + +_Ursula._ Good morrow, sir. [_Surprised._ + +_Roger._ Look not + Askance upon my way-worn clothes; there's gold + To pay my reckoning. [_Throwing money down._ + +_Ursula._ Your pardon, sir; I marveled, sir, so fine a gentleman + Should be so travel-stained. What will you have? + +_Roger._ Bring me a cup of sherris-sack. + +_Ursula._ [_Aside_] I knew he was a gentleman! [_Exit._ + +_Roger._ How will my Hester greet me? Will she know me? + She never saw me with a beard, nor in + Such rags. Perhaps she thinks me dead-- + If so, the shock might kill her--Let me see-- + Putative widows have before my time + Bought second husbands with their beauty, wealth, + Or wit--and she hath all. 'Tis probable-- + And when the long-supposed defunct returned, + He found his amorous relict the bride + Of a bright-eyed youth! What worse, ye harpy fates? + She may be dead! Oh! this is madness! + Sweet Heaven, let her live! and, if I find + Her married, I'll depart unknown to her + And bury in my heart's deep sepulchre + My widowed grief. Bah! I'm a fool! + This weakness comes from my long wandering! + Misfortunes, though we think we conquer them, + Ever pursue, hang on our rear, and give + Such rankling wounds as teach our souls to dread + What else may lie in wait invincible. + +_Re-enter URSULA with wine._ + +_Ursula._ I beg your pardon, sir. I could not find the wine at +first. + +_Roger._ Why, how was that? + +_Ursula._ I'm not the hostess, sir, she is away; I merely take her +place till she comes back. + +_Roger._ You fill it rarely. + +_Ursula._ God bless thee, sir, I'm cook, nurse, or hostess, as +people need me. Ursula Cook, Ursula Nurse, or Ursula Goodale, at +your service, sir. + +_Roger._ Ah, indeed, Ursula! Then I presume thou knowest many of the +citizens? + +_Ursula._ I know them everyone. + +_Roger._ This wine is excellent. [_Drinking_] Dost know one Roger +Prynne? + +_Ursula._ The husband of our Hester Prynne? + +_Roger._ The same. [_Aside_] Thank God, she lives. + +_Ursula._ He's dead, sir, rest his soul, a more than thirty months +ago. + +_Roger._ Poor fellow! He was a friend of mine. Where did they bury +him? + +_Ursula._ His ship was wrecked, he had no burial. + +_Roger._ Here's to his memory! You know his wife? + +_Ursula._ Alas; I do, sweet lady! + +_Roger._ And why alas? The loss of a husband is no great calamity in +a colony. There can be no dearth here of husband-material, I fancy. + +_Ursula._ Whence come you that you know so little of the doings +here? + +_Roger._ From the far South, where for two long years and more I've +lived among the savages. What do you mean? + +_Ursula._ I mean her trial by the magistrates. + +_Roger._ Tried by magistrates? For what? + +_Ursula._ Adultery. + +_Roger._ Tried for adultery? + +_Ursula._ Aye, sir, that she is. + +_Roger._ It is a lie, a damned lie! Tried for adultery! A likely +thing! So pure a woman! A purer creature never lived! + +_Ursula._ Sir, you are her friend? You know her? + +_Roger._ I am--I am her husband--her husband's friend. I knew her in +Old England. Adultery! A pretty word! Who doth accuse her? Damned +detractors! + +_Ursula._ Her child. + +_Roger._ Her what? + +_Ursula._ Her child. + +_Roger._ Hath Hester Prynne a child? Well, well; that is news +indeed! God bless the little thing! it can't be quite as much as +three years old; nay, not so old. Why, such a tot can give no +testimony. I'll go to this trial; I may be able yet to aid her. +Adultery! Bah! + +_Ursula._ God bless your heart, sir. + +_Roger._ Is't a boy or girl, how old? + +_Ursula._ A girl and three months old. + +_Roger._ Three months? Three years you mean. + +_Ursula._ Three months, I said. + +_Roger._ Thou dost not mean that Hester Prynne hath borne a child +within the last two years? + +_Ursula._ I do. [_Aside_] A strange man, truly. This news hath +troubled him; but that's not strange, it troubles all her friends. +He seemed glad enough she had a child, but when I said it was a girl +it seemed to sting him. Well, well! God help the women; we are +unwelcome when we come, abused while we stay, and driven hence with +ill-usage. + +_Roger._ Adulteress! That cannot be! There's some + Mistake, or some deceit in this. Her great + Nobility of heart would take upon + Herself another's wrong. I'll take an oath + The babe they say is hers she never bore! + +_Ursula._ 'Tis surely hers, for I delivered her. + +_Roger._ Hester! Hester! O, my God! My Hester! + Woman, didst thou say that she is married? + +_Ursula._ Nay, I said she is a widow, sir. + +_Roger._ Who is her paramour? + +_Ursula._ I do not know. [_Busies herself removing tankards._ + +_Roger._ [_Aside_] Now is my honored name dragged in the dust + By her to whom I did confide its keeping; + And she herself, my cherished wife, upraised + Upon a pedestal of shameful guilt + For filthy mouths to spit their venom at. + Slowly now. Whatever haps I'll be + Cornelius Tacitus for the nonce, nor brave + My state with that true name which marks me out + As Publius Cornutus. I must have time to think. + [_To Ursula_] Get me more wine. Prepare a room for me. + +_Ursula._ Aye, sir. [_Going._] + +_Roger._ Where is this trial held? + +_Ursula._ Sir, at the Market place, three crossings up + The street and to the left. + +_Roger._ I thank thee. Go. [_Exit Ursula._ + Why was the banishment of tyrant fate + Annulled by vigorous will? and why should I, + For whom the jaws of death unhinged themselves, + Escape from shipwreck, war, and pestilence, + And here attain my journey's end at last, + But that such evil deaths were much too mild + To gratify the fury that pursues me! + I was reserved for this last ignominy + As in despite of human purposes; + Robbed of mine honor where most I placed my trust + And reap this pain where most I sowed for peace. + Was it for this that I did marry her? + Was it for this I sent her here before me? + For this I nursed the holy purposes + Of wedded purity, o'ercame the shocks + Of human destiny, and held in check + The inward passions of the baser man? + For this--to be cornuted in mine age + And die a by-word? + My purposes! My purposes! O, God! + Our purposes are little nine-pins + Which fate's sure aim bowls down incessantly: + As fast as we can set them up, events + Roll down the narrow alleys of our lives, + Rumbling like distant thunder as they speed, + Till crash! our king-intent is down, and in + His fall share all his puny retinue! + She an adulteress! My Hester, whom + I cherished as my soul! How I loved her! + Forgotten, like the meat of yesterday, + Let it pass! + Henceforth, for me there's nothing on this side + Of Hell, but study of revenge on him + Who wrought her shame. He must have used foul means; + For she was ever chaste in thought and deed. + Hell fiend! Now, under an assumed name, + I'll ferret out her lusty paramour; + Contrive some means to deeply punish him, + And satisfy my fathomless revenge. [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II.--_Another street. Enter REV. ARTHUR DIMSDELL, alone._ + +_Dimsdell._ 'Twould do no good.--The Governor is late, + Or I have missed him.--Confess?--Disgrace for me; + No help to her; and all the blasphemies + That evil minds could cast on sacred calling + Would be my blame. Whereas, I now can make + My pleas take on the color of mine office + And yet reflect on it a purer glow.-- + Why comes he not?--The path of righteousness, + Though straight, leads on thro' pleasant fields to Heaven, + Whereas the broad and easy road of sin + Splits in its downward way, and then the will + Stands at a halt which fork to take, though both + Lead on to Hell! Now--why, here he comes! + +_Enter GOVERNOR, attended._ + +_Governor._ Nay, Dimsdell, plead no more; she must be tried. + I know what thou wouldst say, and like thee for it; + But think, my friend, the law would mock itself + If pardon did precede the penalty. + +_Dimsdell._ Our Lord did pardon one was taken in + The very act. O, think of Him! + +_Governor._ Enough! + What! wouldst thou have our laws contemned + As feeble nets to catch the smaller fry + And let the great break through? I tell thee, sir, + Her wealth, her beauty, her hitherto fair fame, + Blacken her crime and make its punishment + A signal warning to the baser sort. + +_Dimsdell._ Hath she not suffered pains and imprisonment? + Enough to answer all the decalogue? + +_Governor._ I stand for law; and you, I think, do think + You stand for gospel.--Come, we tarry.-- + Plead with the Council for the woman, and, while + I think her death were well deserved, I'll not + Oppose their mercy if you win it. + My hand upon it. [_Going._ + +_Dimsdell._ If that she be condemned, + Suspend her sentence till her paramour + Be found; and let them die together. + +_Governor._ Agreed. Come, we're late. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_The Market Place.--Church with Portico, L.--A pillory +on a raised Platform, R.--The GOVERNOR and COUNCIL seated in +portico.--A crowd of TOWNSFOLK._ + +_Governor._ Now that our other business is dispatched, +Call Hester Prynne. + +_Wilson._ Wise Governor, and you, + My brethren: dried as I am with age, + The tendrils of my heart are pliable; + Nor have the tangles of this thicket-world + So twisted all my grain as not to bend + Before another's misery. Wherefore, + I do beseech you, call her not. + +_Governor._ Yet must + We try the woman, though we pity her; + And though the scion mercy grafts upon + The stock of justice, the stock is justice still. + +_Wilson._ I plead for justice! even-handed justice! + As blind and cold as death--but with a sword, + Sharp on one side to reach the woman's heart + And on the other keener for the man's! + You call the woman; where's her paramour? + +_Governor._ We do not know. + +_Wilson._ Then grant a stay to Hester + Till he's known. + +_Governor._ Too late; nor were it good + To let the woman slap the face of law, + And not resent it quickly. Once again, + Call Hester Prynne. The man she may discover. + +_Enter Rev. ARTHUR DIMSDELL through crowd and goes to Portico._ + +_Crier._ Hester Prynne! Hester Prynne! [_Exit._ + +_Dimsdell._ Most worthy Governor, I am like one + Who waking hears the village clock toll time, + Yet, having missed the first few strokes, the hour + He cannot tell: and so stand I and hear + Fair Hester called. Is it for trial, or + For punishment? + +_Governor._ For both. + +_Dimsdell._ I am her pastor and I speak for her; + I would to God that I could plead "Not guilty," + Or in her stead could offer up myself + To satisfy the law! + +_Crowd._ How good he is! + +_Dimsdell._ Gentle and wise she is, grave councilors, + And with a modest meekness goes about + The daily duties of her household care; + Oh! I am sure no vulgar palate-bait + Did lure her to this shame, but some enticement + That took the form of higher nature did + Invest the hook. For she is modesty + Itself. + +_Governor._ Can modesty, then, fall like this? + +_Dimsdell._ The modesty of woman is like the blush + Upon a tender rose; it is her treasure + And her ornament: you cannot touch it, + But it fades away; or breathe upon it, + But it loses perfume; or bring it to the light, + Unwilted. + +_Governor._ True, but when the roses fade + We cast them forth, nor treasure them again. + +_Dimsdell._ 'Tis thus I own; but we have higher teaching. + Our Lord, who knew temptation's mighty power, + Yet was himself without sin's damning stain, + Did pass upon a case like this. "Let him + Who hath no sin first cast a stone at her." + And then He said, "Go, woman, sin no more." + Oh! wondrous grace that pardoned frailty + Which had not sunk to vice! + +_Re-enter CRIER with HESTER PRYNNE._ + +_Governor._ Enough! Here comes the woman. + Hester, thou art accused before this court + Of that which blushing virtue shrinks to name, + Adultery. + +_Hester._ I pray you spare me. + +_Governor._ Thou art the widow of a man of whom + Report spake only praise: no act of thine + Hath openly offended decency, + But that young life which draws its sustenance + From thy round breast avows thy hidden shame. + +_Hester._ Have mercy on the babe, O, God! + +_Governor._ That thou shouldst sin, and thereby, Hester, bring + Dishonor on the name thy spouse did give thee, + Is worse than in a meaner woman. If thou + Hast aught to say to mitigate the wrath + Of justice, speak. And, Hester, bear in mind + The penalty is death or banishment. + +_Hester._ I would not gloze my crime, nor do I know + How to address your worships. + Yet since you bid me I will plead my cause + As best I can. + That I have sinned is true; and well I know + Henceforth for me there's nothing left from all + My kind but scorn and hate. + For me hath life no charm to cheat my hope, + Or make me wish to linger here; yet I + While lives the child would shelter her, the one + Sweet flower that lovely grows above the soil + Of my most foul debasement. + Although the blossom of iniquity, + She takes no tinct from whence she springs, but rather + Of the sky toward which she doth unfold. + Believe me, sirs, + But for my babe's dear love, I'd ask for death + To rid me quickly of my misery: + For love itself, dishonored in my being, + Turns all the gentle cords that bind affection + Into hard-knotted thongs to whip me hence. + Therefore, if I do plead for life, think not + I do beseech a favor for myself, + But rather, that I beg a lingering pain, + Than expiate in one quick-ending pang + The sum of all my loathed wickedness. + Thus, for my tender babe, I ask my life, + And, for myself, I do implore you now, + Banish me not. + As for my crime, I have repented it + Most bitterly; yea, I've suffered anguish + From the very hour when, as the spring + Of nature dragged my anchors loose, the soft + Entreaty of a lover's sigh did blow + Concurrent with my tide, and swept me out + Into a troubled sea. + Now, battered on the rocks of hard opinions, + My most untimely wreck is quite complete; + Yet spare the hulk for that dear freight it bore. + +_Governor._ Woman, I pity thee; now, while our laws + Are strict, yet may our mercy show itself + In staving off the penalty, if thou + Wilt aid us. + +_Hester._ Your mercy comes with hard condition; + For how can I, who stand here helpless, + Aid you who have all power? + +_Governor._ Tell us who is thy paramour? + +_Hester._ That I will not do. + +_Governor._ Thou art most obstinate. What say you now, + Grave councilors? Need we delay the sentence? + +_Bronson._ Quick to forgive and slow in condemnation, + Would be our wisest course in such a case. + The life she hath God gave; we should not take it; + Nor should we banish her, for she is useful, + And with her needle doth assist the poor. + There is provision in our law to fit + This crime when neither death nor banishment + Is proper. It is: [_Reading_] "Th' adulteress shall stand + Upon the pillory; and on her breast + Shall wear a scarlet letter A, to mark + Her criminal incontinence." + +_Governor._ A good + Suggestion truly; we had forgot the clause + From long disuse. What say you? + +_Ward._ I think it wise. + +_Arnold._ 'Twill be more merciful. + +_Langdon._ A living warning 'gainst adultery. + +_All._ It is our suffrage. + +_Governor._ So be it then. + Hester, thou art to stand upon the pillory + A little while, and wear upon thy breast + The Scarlet Letter "A" forever; + This see thou do on pain of instant death + Or banishment. Hath anyone a piece + Of scarlet cloth? + +_Bronson._ I have the letter here prepared. + +_Governor._ Clerk, affix the letter to her breast. + +_Enter ROGER PRYNNE, clad as in Scene I.--He keeps to the rear of +Hester._ + + Now, Jailer, lead her to the pillory, + There let her stand unbound. + +_Hester ascends steps to pillory platform._ + + Dimsdell, you are her pastor, speak to her. + Hold up her sin before her eyes, and warn + The multitude by her example. + +_Dimsdell._ I beg you, sir, let Dr. Wilson speak. + +_Wilson._ Nay, Dimsdell. Nay, the charge is yours. + Speak on. And plead that she disclose the man + Who was her paramour. + +_Dimsdell._ I pray you pardon me. I am not well. + +_Governor._ Not well? 'Tis but compassion weakens thee. + Speak man! thy words are gentlest and will draw + Her secret from her, though ours do seal her lips. + Proceed, Dimsdell. + +_Dimsdell._ We wrong her nature when we seek to know + That which her heart doth teach her to conceal; + Yet at your bidding will I plead with her. + +_Goes over to pillory._ + + Hester, look down upon me; let thine ear + Receive my meaning with the sound I make; + Behold in me the body of the Council, + Not me alone; and hear my words as though + The general voice, speaking in concert true, + Did intone them. + For it were vain presumption to expect + That, what the Governor could not extract, + My words alone could move thee to disclose. + +_Roger._ A modest gentleman, truly! + +_Dimsdell._ Upon thy sin I dwell not; the penalty + Which thou dost suffer preaches repentance; + And in thy nature there is naught to lead thee + Twice astray. + There's not an eye that now doth look upon thee + But pities thee, and doubt thou not, if he + Who wronged thee is present here, his heart is wrung + With bitterest remorse. Wilt speak his name? + +_Hester._ I will not. + +_Dimsdell._ I do command thee by the Commonwealth, + I do entreat thee for thy reputation, + I do implore thee for thy soul's salvation, + Give up his name. + +_Hester._ I would not breathe his name to anyone; + Nay, not to him who was my husband, though + The sea should cast him up to question me. + +_Roger._ Woman, who did seduce thee? + +_Hester._ I keep my vow. + +_Dimsdell._ Hester, deceive thyself no more; look down + Upon me once again. Believe me, Hester, + No pain the world could now inflict would harm + Thy recreant lover. To see thee here set up + The target of a thousand curious eyes, + Thy beauties blistered in the noonday sun, + Thy gentle breast seared with yon scarlet letter, + Would burn that image on his soul. Have mercy, + Hester, forgive his cowardice, do thou + Act for him; pronounce his name and let him die + To satisfy his crime. + +_Hester._ I will not drag him down with me. + +_Roger._ Oh! glorious generosity misplaced! + +_Dimsdell._ Your generosity hath led you once + Astray; do not allow it now to aid + Him in hypocrisy. For, Hester, you, + Who know his weaknesses and aspirations, + His station in his calling, his place in life + Among us, will be a party to deception + If now you hide his name. + +_Hester._ I answer to my God. No man shall know + That which is only known to me and him. + But speak thou on his crime! + +_Dimsdell._ Ho! all ye people of the commonwealth! + Behold!--let him confess!--O, Hester! speak!-- + I see--no more-- [_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! [_Exeunt._ + + + + +ACT II. + + +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. HESTER discovered 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 beat + Within the tender compass of her arms, + I had not prayed she might not be. But now, + Although unasked she came, unasked she brought + A 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, + Knit in a maze of fearful intricacy, + Wherein we see no meaning. Nor can we know + The hidden shuttles of Eternity, + That weave the endless web of living, loving, + And begetting, whereby a filament + Of 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 race + And all its natural ills, yet still our fellows, + Who proudly call themselves our lords and masters, + Do heap upon us petty wrongs, and load + Us down with their oppressions. I cannot tell + What rich reward my suffering may bring, + But bide the piercing, like this patient cloth, + In hope the needle carries golden thread. + +_Enter a_ Maid-Servant. + + What is it? + +_Servant._ Madam, a gentleman would speak with you. + +_Hester._ Bid him enter. [_Exit Servant._ + Methought I heard my husband's dreaded voice + Speak to me on the pillory. What + If he lives, or hath arisen from the dead + To reckon with me now? Well, let him come; + For this strong heart outcast from sympathy + Hath 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. + +_Enter ROGER 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 my energy-- + +_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? Nay, 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. + +_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 I +will-- + +_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. + +_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 tot + That wavered in its walk and won my heart + By tender trustfulness. Thou'dt leave thy father, + Mother, all, to nestle in these arms + The 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 out + All 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 child + That ever blest fond parents, unfolding sweet + Thy mother's beauties and thy father's strength. + And canst thou now remember who made himself + A child to play with thee vain, foolish games; + Who taught thee out of books such lessons as + Thy 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 sweetly + Ignorant of all her charms as is + The hyacinth. + +_Hester._ Mother! Mother! + +_Roger._ Pray God the saints see nothing here on earth: + Or else that in their golden paradise + Some sleepy potion dull their sympathies + With us: for who could look upon this world, + And see mankind divested of the lies + That 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 life + Itself and singe thy mother's heart, if she + Could see that scarlet letter on thy breast. + +[_Hester covers her face and moans._] + + Great God! what thread of continuity + Doth string the whirling incidents of life? + This woman was that maid whose purity + Excelled imagination's greatest reach; + Whose happiness sang ever like the lark + Arising from the earth to soar in Heaven! + And now behold her dyed in scarlet sin, + Branded with infamy, and moaning here + In deepest anguish! + Nay, come; let out thy grief in linked words, + For this tooth-gated dumb remorse will herd + Thy thoughts until they gore each other. + Hester, thy strength is greater than to yield + Thus to thy misery; do not lash + Thy heart into a fury; never blow + The tiny sparks of pain + Into the flaming coals of Hell. + That sinning soul is traitor to itself + That leagues its bruised thoughts with imps of Hell + To torture conscience. + +_Hester._ Leave me, I pray you. + +_Roger._ Not yet, else were my visit bootless. + Hester, I will not dwell upon thy life + From year to year, nor drag thy colliered soul + Back to its days of spotless innocence. + Thy father's amity for me, thou knowest, + And how, upon his death, I stood toward thee + In 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 me + In gentle confidence. + So did the years post by in th' dim afterglow + That comes to aged men; while love with thee + Was in the dawning; a tender sky with both + Of us, my sun already set; and thine + Not yet arisen; nor did it ever rise + To 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 hope + To still the sweet necessities of youth + With passionless love; nature demands her due, + And we should know, while love may grow at home, + Passion 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 ignorance + To 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 hang + The 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! + Never to leave this place, until I bid thee. + +_Hester._ I swear to all these things. + +_Roger._ Swear once again; never to tell thy paramour + Thy husband lives and walks these streets. + +_Hester._ I swear to keep thy counsel as I have kept + His and mine own. + +_Roger._ Remember then, from this time on, my name + Is Chillingworth, no longer Prynne, for that + I will not bear. [_Going_] Hester, farewell. + Yet ere I go, Hester, behold my mind: + I love thee still; but with a chastened heart + Made wise by sorrow. Day after day, as thou + Dost 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 thou + Wilt think of me without revulsion; + Then hate me if thou must; but spare the thought + That 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 once + Did own them. Forget it, Hester, for such a marriage + Was my infamy, and I it was + 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 hath + Recovered from his fainting fit, and will, + God 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 leads + Unto 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 how + To pardon others. + +_Ward._ Aye, that he doth! Didst note + His 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 time + Her wantonness declared itself, and then + He left her lonely, as though that punishment + Were all a man of mercy could inflict. + +_Arnold._ He takes it much to heart that wanton vice + Hath found a nest within his congregation. + +_Langdon._ That grief is truly great with him; but yet + He will not hear a word against her.--Look! + For here she comes. + How bravely doth she wear her scarlet letter! + +_Enter HESTER PRYNNE alone; 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. + [_Exeunt Women._ + +_Enter GOVERNOR BELLINGHAM and ROGER 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 is + A 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. + +_Enter REV. 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 gentlemen + Will 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 man + Is 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 cureless malady-- + 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 pearl + An Indian chief did give me; but sell it with + The 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 yet + As what I am--her husband's friend and hers-- + As that might breed more grief in her, or wake + An old one--yet I think it meet to care + For her and for her child. + +_Governor._ Your goodness is + Your passport, Doctor. Come, let us in.--Nay, + After you; you are my guest. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_Bed room of the REV. ARTHUR DIMSDELL. Night. DIMSDELL, +alone in the dark._ + +_Dimsdell._ O, she is beautiful! + The memory of her loveliness + Pervades my waking dreams, and, pleasant theft, + Deprives my sleep of dark oblivion. + And thus, while fleeing from the gentle bonds + Of 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 take + The form of her most dear perfections? + But, now! + No trait of Hester's noble purity + Remains with guilty me, for I purloined + Her precious diadem and like a rogue + I cast that crown away, afraid to wear + What would have been my dearest ornament. + Why can I not repent? Or is it true + Repentance is denied the hypocrite? + And must it then forever be that, though + I cast out sin, both root and branch, the seed + Of evil, scattered long ago, will sprout + And bloom carnation thoughts that dull the soul + With 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 am + Become a liar through my lechery, + A thief of reputation through my cowardice, + And--puh! the rest but follow in the train + Of my dear wedded crime! + O, God! and shall this lust burn on in me + Still unconsumed? Can flagellation, fasting, + Nor fervent prayer itself, not cleanse my soul + From its fond doting on her comeliness? + Oh! heaven! is there no way for me to jump + My middle age and plunge this burning heart + Into the icy flood of cold decay? + None? O, wretched state of luxury! + This hot desire grows even in its death + And from its ashes doth arise full fledged + Renewed eternally! + +_A blinding flash of lightning, followed quickly by sharp thunder, +discloses Dimsdell kneeling at his couch, and also shows SATAN--an +archangel with bat wings--who has just entered._ + + Have mercy upon me, O, my God, have mercy! + According to thy gentle lovingkindness, + According to the multitude of all + Thy 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 out + All mine iniquities. + +_Satan._ You mar the psalm, Sir priest, for you omit + The saving clause. Your sin is unconfessed. + +_Dimsdell._ Who art thou that durst interpose between + My soul and God? + +_Satan._ I am the stronger part of lower nature, + The worser part of all that came from Him + Whom 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 minister + Of God, a priest, and am anointed of the Lord + To teach His children. + +_Satan._ And, therefore, am I come to thee, Sir priest. + I do confess a predilection for + Thy 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 take + My cloistered ease. I love all priests and am + The bosom friend of many who would blush + To speak to me in public. Receive me, brother. + +_Dimsdell._ Scorner, avaunt! Sink to the hell from whence + Thou cam'st! I do abhor thee, Satan; yea, + I tell thee to thy face that I who quail + Before the awful majesty of God, + And cowardly do hide my sin from man, + I tell thee, vile as I am, I do detest + Thy very name! I do defy thee! + +_Satan._ These words are very brave; if more than wind, + Go to the market place tomorrow, there + Proclaim thy vice; or else ascend thy pulpit + And denounce thyself as what thou art, adulterer. + +_Dimsdell._ Recreant to my God am I; think'st thou + That I will thee obey, to whom I owe + No 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 stigma + Of thy secret crime. + +_Dimsdell._ Hold off! I charge thee by that other Name + Of 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 flame + Of Thy bright Holiness! Shrivel his frame + Into an atom, and blow the lifeless dust + Beyond the farthest star. + And, if in his destruction my soul should share + Through 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 to + A learned disquisition on the birth + Of evil? I'd like to hear it, if it tread + Beyond theology's well beaten path; + But, if it stumbles in the pug-mill round + Of 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 would + I dignify thy carnal slip by my + Incarnate presence, but for thy perfidy. + For thou hast reached a depth of moral baseness + Below 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 come + To show, as in a mirror, what thou art; + Not what thou shalt be. The past and present both + Are mine, the future rests with God. But now, + +_Hester's image appears in a cloud dressed in white._ + + 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 humanity + Reflect 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 impress + Upon thy breast a stigma worse than hers. + Aye, fall upon thy knees to worship her + The 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 befits + A coward lust: the latter "A" in gules + Upon thy sable heart. There let it gnaw + Forever 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 garb + Of righteousness, shake in thy pious shoes, + Cover the stigma on thy breast from eyes + Of flesh, and be a hypocrite, till death + Relieves the world of thee. We'll meet again. + + [_Lightning. Exit Satan. Dimsdell lies in trance. + Night. No sound, no light._ + + + + +ACT III. + + +SCENE I.--_The garden of Governor Bellingham. ROGER PRYNNE, called +Chillingworth, alone._ + +_Roger._ The fox that robbed my roost is sly; he keeps + The cover warily; and, now the scent + Is cold, the curs that yelp in scandal's pack + Bay loud on many faults, but cannot trace him. + +_Enter DIGGORY._ + +_Diggory._ Doctor, the Governor will join you presently. + +_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 of mercy-- + +_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? + +_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 love of-- + +_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 curly locks-- + +_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._ + +_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. [_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 study that 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. + +_Enter GOVERNOR 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. + +_Enter HESTER PRYNNE._ + +_Hester._ Your worship hath been pleased to summon me + To 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 fit + To rear that infant immortality, + And guide it unto God. + +_Hester._ God gave the child + In rich exchange for all things else which I, + Poor sinful I, had forfeited; and now + You, who have made yourselves the flails of God, + Would separate the wheat from chaff before + The grain is ripe, and take her from me. + Oh! ye are wise! No doubt ye see beyond + The purpose of Almighty God who gave + The child to me! + +_Governor._ Nay, take it not to heart, + For, Hester, duty to the child we owe + To put its soul upon the way that leads + To Heaven. She will be cared for tenderly. + +_Hester._ She is the last small link that binds my soul + To earth, the tiny needle that doth point + My 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 me + Will hurt the child. I will not part with her! + Say if thou canst, for thou hast sympathies + Which these men lack, say what the mother's rights + Are in her child; and what those rights must be + When naught beside the child is left to her-- + Her husband gone, her friends deserted, + No reputation, no sympathy, no love-- + But only those twin brands of shame, her baby + And 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 made + To yoke and draw me to a just conclusion. + +_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 adopt + A means that varies from the one marked out + By God and Nature. + +_Governor._ Is there not command + To teach our children in the fear of God + And guide them from impurity? + +_Dimsdell._ God gave us mothers when He gave us life, + And to their tender care He did entrust + The mortal and immortal parts of us. + What then? Would we improve upon His system; + Would we now deprive this little one + Of that fond mother-care which nurtures her? + Or would we put, in place of mother-love, + The cold, hard, formal training of a paid + Instructor? + +_Governor._ But is this woman, stained with sin, + A mother to entrust a child to? + +_Dimsdell._ That question God hath answered; and we know + The stain of sin doth fade beneath the bleach + Of true repentance; through it all appears + The 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 God + Condemn her sin, but let us not presume + To punish her where He hath healed her heart. + +_Wilson._ There is weight in what he says. + +_Roger._ Yea, and earnestness! + +_Governor._ Well, Hester, go thy way; the child is thine. + Remember thou dost owe a gentle thanks + Unto this pious man. Go, Hester, keep + The child. Think well upon his words; be thou + A mother in all righteousness, as well + As in thy sin. Farewell. + +_Hester._ I thank you, gentlemen. [_Exit._ + +_Wilson._ That woman would have been a noble wife + Had not some villain robbed her of her dower. + +_Governor._ Come, gentlemen, this business well is ended, + And, Dimsdell, yours is all the credit of it; + For one I thank you. + +_Roger._ We all do thank you, sir. + +_Governor._ Come, let us drain a cup of wine; and then + Go in. + +_Dimsdell._ I beg you to excuse me. + +_Roger._ And me, + I pray. I'll stay with Dimsdell. + +_Governor._ Well, Wilson, you + Shall not escape me. Gentlemen, the wine + We leave you; keep it company.--And, Dimsdell, + Forget it not, to-morrow thou must preach + A grand election sermon. The people do + Expect a master effort, man. Fail not. [_Exeunt Governor and Wilson._ + +_Roger._ He will not fail them, Governor; a tongue + Of flame is his. What ails thee, Dimsdell? + How now? Why man! + +_Dimsdell._ I'm very weak. The pain about my heart-- + +_Roger._ Nay, courage, man! 'Twill leave thee soon. I'll get a cup of +wine to cheer thee up. + +_Dimsdell._ Do, I pray. And, Doctor, give me something to abate this +agony. + +_Roger._ I will. [_Exit._ + +_Dimsdell._ Try how I may, there's no escape from pain. + I robbed the law's strong arm, and thereby put + The lash in conscience' hand--and yet I thought + Hypocrisy a duty to my calling! + 'Twere better I were known as what I am, + Than still to hide my sin beneath the garb + Of outward purity! 'Twere better now, + By Hester's side, to bear opprobrium, + And brave what man may do, than still to nurse + This misery in secret! + +_Re-enter ROGER with wine-tray; places it upon a bench and, taking a +vial from a pocket medicine-case, pours a few drops into a +wine-glass, then fills the glass with wine._ + +_Roger._ A minim more would lull him into sleep. + Here is the chance--and here the will--to learn + His secret malady. What holds me back? + Conscience? Tut, tut! It will not harm him! + 'Twill do him good to sleep; 'twill do me good + To know the why he clutches at his breast. + I'll do it. [_Pours more from vial._ + Sir, drink this off. + +_Dimsdell._ I thank thee, kind physician. [_Drinks._ + +_Roger._ Nay, thank me not. Now, take a glass of wine. + [_Giving him another glass._ + +_Dimsdell._ Methinks, the wine is richer than is common. + +_Roger._ Thirst always gives an added age to wine. + This is right Xeres. Hast been in Spain? + +_Dimsdell._ Nay, but the wine hath. I feel its warmth. + +_Roger._ Truly, it is a grand inquisitor; + 'Twill search each petty heresy that taints + Thy blood, and burn it to a cinder. + +_Dimsdell._ How many leagues it came to serve my need. + +_Roger._ Aye, a thousand, and a thousand more! + +_Dimsdell._ I would not go so far for it just now, + For through my limbs there creeps a lang'rous ease + Like that which doth precede deep slumber. + +_Roger._ Rest here upon this bench. [_Dimsdell sits, half reclining._ + Give way unto your drowsiness; it is + Not sleep, but rest and relaxation. There! + I'll keep you company. + +_Dimsdell._ Do. + +_Roger._ [_Pouring wine and drinking._] This wine is liquid gold. + I quaff to your good health and ease of mind. + This is good wine. It warms my chilly blood + With all the dreamy heat of Spain. I hear + The clack of th' castinet and th' droning twang + Of stringed instruments; while there before + Mine eyes brown, yielding beauties dance in time + To the pulsing music of a saraband! + And yet there is a flavor of the sea, [_Sipping wine._ + The long-drawn heaving of the ocean wave, + The gentle cradling of a tropic tide; + Its native golden sun--I fear you sleep? + Or do the travels of the wine so rock + Your soul that self is lost in revery? + Why, man, dream not too much of placid bliss; + Nor wine, nor man, can reach this clear perfection + Until they pass the rack of thunder and + Of hurricane.--'Tis on us now! Awake! [_Shouting in Dimsdell's ear._ + My friend, awake! Dost thou not hear the storm? + Oh! how it shrieks and whistles through the shrouds! + The awful guns of heaven boom in our ears-- + Nay, that was the mainsail gone by the board, + Flapping with cannon roar. + You do not follow me. O, come, I say! + This is no sermon. You cannot be asleep, + Yet feign you are to cheat me of my story. + Wake up, my friend. You carry the jest too far. + +_Roger cautiously shakes Dimsdell._ + + So soon! So sound! [_Looks around._ + I fear you are not easy; thus. That's better. + Your pardon, sir, your collar's much too tight. + Now will I steal his hidden mystery, + And learn the secret of his lengthened pain; + Cure him and gain great honor. To think a man + Would case himself in buttons like an armour! + Now, shirt---- + Merciful God! what miracle is this! + A stigma! Aye! a stigma! the letter "A" + In blood suffused! The counterpart of that + Which Hester wears, but palpitating here + In life! This is beyond my skill. + Ah! David! David! Thou art the man! Thou wouldst + Have set me in the hot forefront of battle + Hadst thou but known me as Uriah! + Bah! + Why, what a brainless dullard have I been, + To see this pretty puff-ball of a preacher + Wax large before mine eyes in righteous husk-- + And think him whole within--when but a touch, + But one, had aired his rottenness! + Oh! dotard that I am! blind, deaf and stupid! + It takes a miracle to make me see + What lay before me open. He did take + Her part; ever professed himself her friend; + And at her trial fell in trance. What more? + He is the man! He is the man! + Now ends our game of hoodman blind; oh, I + Was warm, so very warm at times, so hot, + Did almost touch thee; yet I knew thee not + For him I sought. Thou cunning hypocrite! + It must be I am fitted to my state, + Dull, trusting and incapable; + Or else--why surely I'm a fool.-- + Had I been here when Hester bore her child, + I would have fondly dreamed it was mine own; + Put on the unearned pride that old men wear + When their young wives bear children. + A pretty baby, sir! My grandchild?--No; + Mine own; my very own! Nay, wrong me not; + I'm not so old--not so damned old after all! + A ghe! a ghoo! Are not the eyes like mine?-- + Yea, would have dandled it upon my knee, + And coddled each succeeding drop, as though + My fires had distilled them. + But--now I know--my knowledge must be hid. + Back shirt! cover blazoned infamy + And let the whited front still hide from man + The sepulchre of crime that festers here. + He will not wake within an hour. I'll go + Inform the Governor he sleeps, and have + Him order none disturb his pious rest. + Then I'll return and calmly probe his soul. + Sleep on! Sleep on! [_Exit Roger._ + + +SCENE II.--_Another part of the garden. Enter alone, DIGGORY._ + +_Diggory._ If there be no true charm but it hath a touch of folly in +it, this one must be most potent. Now a wise man would not think +there's that virtue in a bit of grease, a jingling rhyme, and a hair +cut, that one might thereby win a woman's love--but the wise are +fools in love. I have here the lard of three bears--one more than +the old adage of "bear and forbear"--and with it I am to anoint my +head as an enchantment to bring about my marriage to Betsey--marry, +I'll temper the strength of the charm with a little bergamot, for in +truth two of the bears have been dead over-long. Whew!--Aha! +enchantment is the only highway to success in love! Now let me see: +"Lady love, lady love, where'er you be"-- + +_Betsey._ [_Singing behind the scenes_] + + _Little bird, little bird, come tell me true; + If I love my love, as your love loves you, + And if he loves me, as you love your mate; + How long, little bird, should I make him wait?_ + +_Diggory._ That's Betsey singing now! If the charm works like this, +bear fat will be worth its weight in gold. But perhaps my features +may have pleased her after all--I'm not bad to look upon; and truly +I would save my hair; it's the best part about me. Singing again. + +_Betsey._ [_Singing behind the scenes_] + + _In Summer-tide, sweet Summer-tide, + O, what can a maiden do, + If, while he walks close by her side, + Her lover begins to woo?_ + +_Diggory._ Now I wonder where she learnt all those profane songs? +From some liberal folk in the old country, no doubt; they ill become +a puritan. If she were a little slower in her speech, what an angel +she would be! As it is, she is a very good woman, tongue and all. + +_Betsey._ [_Singing again, behind the scenes._] + + _For her, of buttercups and violets, + A circlet for her hair he makes; + And sings, in roundelays and triolets, + A song that soon her fancy takes. + In Summer-tide, sweet Summer-tide, + O, what can a maiden do, + If, while he walks close by her side, + Her lover begins to woo?_ + +_Diggory._ I'm not a judge of songs, but if she means half she +says--and a woman sometimes does--some one is about to be the top +feather in Fortune's cap; it may be me. I'll try my luck once more. +[_Going toward R. wing_] Why, here she comes. + +_Enter BETSEY, with a pair of butter paddles._ + +_Betsey._ [_Entering._] + + _Adown the moonlit path they walk, + Through all the world called lover's lane, + And hand in hand they sigh and talk + Of the love that binds them, happy twain!_ + + What are you gaping like a great gaby for? + +_Diggory._ For Fortune to drop the plum into my mouth. + +_Betsey._ Where is the plum? + +_Diggory._ There. [_Pointing at her._] + +_Betsey._ You silly fellow! yesterday I was a peach; the day before +strawberries and cream; the day before that a rose; and last week a +dove--marry, I don't coo for you! Can I be all these things at once +and still be Betsey Tomkins? + +_Diggory._ O, Betsey, thou art all the world to me! + +_Betsey._ O, Diggory, thou art a great fool to me! Why, man, thy +head is as soft as a pat of butter; I could take it between my +paddles, like this, and mold it into any shape I chose. + +_Diggory._ So you may, Betsey; so you may. And, Betsey, for the love +of mercy, mold it into the head of thy future husband. + +_Betsey._ 'Twould take a pair of shears to do that. + +_Diggory._ Wouldst thou marry me, Betsey, if I should lose my pretty +locks? + +_Betsey._ I would not marry you with them, that's flat. + +_Diggory._ Shall I shave my head or only clip it close? + +_Betsey._ Cut it off, Diggory, cut it off. + +_Diggory._ Kiss me but once, Betsey, and I'll cut my head off; 'tis +of little use to me now, and if thou dost marry me--well, thy head +shall rest upon my shoulder, like this, and one head is enough for +any pair of shoulders. + +_Betsey._ _In Summer-tide, sweet Summer-tide, + O, what can a maiden do_, etc. [_Exeunt._ + + +SCENE III.--_The same as in Scene I of this act. Dimsdell asleep +upon a garden bench, half reclining. Enter ROGER PRYNNE, called +Chillingworth._ + +_Roger._ To kill were easy; aye, but--to stretch his life + As on a rack--were that not better still? + Dead, I'd bury with him my revenge; + But while he lives the old account will stand + At daily usury. + I'll tent his agony, prolong it here, + Even here where I may feed upon it; + Not send him hence beyond my reach. Aye! + I'll fight with death to keep him for mine own. + But, now-- + O, I must calm myself or miss my aim! + For, like a hunter when first he sees the buck, + My nerves are all unstrung. This weakling trick + Of overearnestness betrays the fool + In me; and yet we know it, though we profit not, + The eager hand doth ever spill the cup + That lifted carefully would quench our thirst. + I must assume a wise placidity; + As he puts on--Ah! damned hypocrite!-- + The air of purity. (_Approaches Dimsdell._) + I'll drink dissimulation at the source; + I'll study him.--Thus might an angel look + When, wearied with the music of the spheres, + He laid him down upon a roseate bank + To dream of holiness!--He hath not stirred.-- + 'Twas well I did not speak to Bellingham, + For we have not been noted. Good, so far. + All eyes are busy with their own affairs; + I'll wake him now and foil discovery. + +_Takes vial from pocket medicine case._ + + Our native drugs are balanced well; one plant + Sucks in the beams the sleepy moon sends down, + Another drinks the waking draught of dawn. + That made him sleep, but this--Ah! + A mouldy mummied corse that in the tomb + A thousand years had lain, would wake once more, + If but three drops of this should touch its lips. + I'll give you, sir, but two. + +_Drops liquid into glass and fills with wine._ + + There, swallow it. + +_Administering to Dimsdell._ + + Now, let me see--he must not know how long + He slept,--and by the sun it is not long-- + I have't; I'll make him think he merely lost + Himself while I was talking. + +_Dimsdell stirs. Roger pours a glass of wine and takes position he +occupied when Dimsdell fell asleep. Speaks as in continuation of +former speech._ + + Mellow wine + Is Nature's golden bounty unto man. + And it hath well been said: Dame Nature is + A gentle mother if we follow her; + But if she drives our steps no fury wields + A fiercer lash; yet all her punishments + Are kindly meant; our puny faculties + Would nest forever fledgeling in our minds, + Did not her wise austerity compel + Their flight. + +_Dimsdell wakes with a start and recovers himself as one who would +not seem rude._ + + Or, put the same in other words: + That man is noble who doth fear no fate + Which may afflict humanity; but, like + A gallant soldier, meets the charge half way, + And takes his wounds a-jesting. + Now ev'ry one of us, whom Nature whips, + Must take it meekly; for she means our good; + And learn to go along with her. + +_Dimsdell._ I fear + I dozed and lost the thread of argument. + I pray you, pardon me. + +_Roger._ I did not note it. + But, be it so, come sun yourself; drive out + The fog and vapor that becloud your mind, + And let the warmth of nature take their place. + Nature retrieves our losses, or charges them + Against us; all things do rest, even the plants + Do slumber as they grow. + +_Dimsdell._ How greedily + The flow'rs drink up the wine our golden sun + Pours down on them, yet blush to own their drinking! + +_Roger._ This is the New World, man; and Nature here + Is lusty; drink in thy dole of heat and light; + For even I, drenched in the golden rain, + Feel pulsings of lost paradise that make + My blood leap with th' quick-step bound of youth. + This is the very show'r of gold in which + Jove comes to fill the longing world with life. + And as he kisses her with ling'ring lips, + All Nature lies wide open to th' warm embrace + And quickens in his arms.--All, all, but thou! + For thou art single as the northern pole; + As cold, as distant, and unreachable + To what hath passion's warmth; and, though + Thy life be at its summer solstice--bright + With day--thy heart still turns to barren ice, + More bleak than many a wintry age. + +_Dimsdell._ How can I change my disposition, Doctor? + +_Roger._ Widen the thin ecliptic of thy life; + Revolve upon another axis, man; + Let love, the sun of life, beam meltingly + Upon thy heart and thaw it into happiness. + Marry, man, marry. + +_Dimsdell._ I cannot marry: I have my work to do. + +_Roger._ If work precedent were to love, the world + Would be unpeopled. This is the month of June, + And now the locust and the linden tree + Do wed the zephyrs as they blow, and weight + The air with oversweetness.--What song is that? + +[_Voice of Betsey singing behind scenes._] + + _For her, of buttercups and violets, + A circlet for her hair he makes; + And sings, in roundelays and triolets, + A song that soon her fancy takes. + In Summer-tide, sweet Summer-tide, + O, what can a maiden do, + If, while he walks close by her side, + Her lover begins to woo?_ + +_Roger._ That maid is innocent and happy too. + You may have noticed that--when the heart + Is pure--love overflows the lips in song + As sweet and limpid as a mountain spring; + But--when it's bitter with base treachery-- + It dams itself against all utterance, + And either mines the soul, or, breaking forth, + Sweeps downward to destruction. Oh! 'tis true, + Love is the lyric happiness of youth; + And they, who sing its perfect melody, + Do from the honest parish register + Still take their tune. And so must you. For you + Are now in the very period of youth + When myriads of unborn beings knock loud and long + Upon the willing portals of the heart + For entrance into life. Deny it not; + I say but truth--I once was young myself. + Behold the means! + +_Enter MARTHA WILSON, carrying a bunch of roses._ + +_Dimsdell._ Oh! Oh! [_Clasps his breast._] + +_Roger._ Whither so fast, Martha, that thou canst not speak to us? + +_Martha._ Oh! I beg your pardon, Doctor. Good morning, sir. I seek +my father; is he with the Governor? + +_Roger._ Knowledge is costly, Martha; yet thou art rich enough to +buy more than information. For one of those sweet roses, I'll tell +you he is well and with the Governor. + +_Martha._ You beg it prettily. [_Giving Roger a rose._ + +_Roger._ Pure and fragrant as the giver--marry, the blush becomes it +not so well; it does not come and go. Martha, thy father and the +Governor are in the library. Is that not worth another rose? + +_Martha._ Nay, only a very little one; for when he talks of books +he's always loath to come with me. + +_Roger._ Nay, slander him not. But, Martha, books or no books, for +two more roses I will bring him here; and, truly, fathers were cheap +at three roses apiece. What say you? + +_Martha._ Nay, I'll go myself; but do not think I grudge the roses; +here they are. You have not begged of me [_To Dimsdell_]. May I beg +you to accept this? Gentlemen, farewell. [_Exit Martha._ + +_Roger._ Roses, and you asked her not! + In love! in love! up to the eyes in love! + She'll drown in love unless you marry her! + +_Dimsdell._ Oh! that I were worthy of her! + +_Roger._ Dost love her, Dimsdell? Ah! she's worthy love. + She's fair and young; of gentle birth and rich; + And warm and pure and spirit-like as flame + That floats above new brandy. + +_Dimsdell._ Out upon thee, satyr! Thou dishonorest her. + +_Roger._ Not a whit. Is't dishonor to her purity + To urge thy smoky flame to brightness worthy + Of her? 'Tis what she wishes most; witness + Her confusion and her telltale blushes. + Do me justice, man; my thoughts are pure + And dwell on lawful marriage only. Thou, thou + Alone, couldst see impurity in that. + I spoke of thee, man, of thee; and who + Beside thyself would think a mottled thought + Could touch a maiden linked to thee in words + Or fact? + +_Dimsdell._ Oh! Oh! [_Clutching at his breast._ + +_Roger._ Had I young daughters by the score, each fair + As Hebe, as voluptuous as Venus, + All thinly clad as in the golden age, + I could not wish a chaster keeper of them. + Nay, had I wives in droves like Solomon, + I'd make thee Kislah Aga of my harem, + Chief eunuch and sole security--What! + Call me satyr when I urge in bounds + The boundless beauties of pure maidenhood, + And bid thee wed them! Thus best advices are + Construed amiss, and what we kindly mean + Turned into scorn and filthiness! + +_Dimsdell._ Forgive me, Doctor; I'm ill at ease. This pain + Is like a stick thrust in a spring; it muddies + All my thoughts. Oh! Oh! [_Pressing his hands to his breast._ + +_Roger._ Come, Dimsdell, listen to a bit of reason. + Thy body is as sound as a red apple + In November. The pain's imaginary. + Marry, man, marry; thy wife will prove + A counter-irritant and drive the pain away. + +_Dimsdell._ No more of that, I pray you. + +_Roger._ Not enough of it, not enough of it! + +_Dimsdell._ No more, no more! I must not marry. + +_Roger._ Think once again, man; if that thy mind + Can pardon the suggestion--and, mark, I urge it + With all diffidence--there is a way, + Wherein the low opinion thou doth hold + Of thine own virtues--not held by any else-- + May wed with beauty all unspeakable, + Raise up a noble lady, and show thy christian + Spirit to the world. + +_Dimsdell._ And what is that? + +_Roger._ Wed Hester Prynne. + +_Dimsdell._ Wed Hester Prynne? + +_Roger._ Aye! 'twas that I said. + She is a paragon--nay, beauty's self. + All other women are but kitchen-maids + Beside her loveliness. + +_Dimsdell._ Wed Hester Prynne! + +_Roger._ I hear her husband left her well to do; + And as for that small blot that sullies her + 'Twill fade when covered by thy name. + +_Dimsdell._ Hester Prynne! + +_Roger._ What act more merciful, more christianlike? + Redeem the reputation of her child, + And to the jeers of fools stop up thine ears; + Enwrap thee in her gentle arms, lay down + Thine aching head upon her tender breast, + And dream thyself in paradise. + +_Dimsdell._ Thou fiend of Hell! I know thee now; thou cam'st + But once in thine own form, and ever since + Hast been too near me in a worser one. + Back to the pit, I say! No more of tempting! + +_Roger._ Art mad? I'm man as thou dost seem to be; + I'm not a fiend. + +_Dimsdell._ What dost thou know? [_Shaking Roger by the shoulders._ + +_Roger._ Only this--thou art as cowardly + As thou art lecherous. What! betray + A woman! Desert her in her misery! + Refuse to marry her! + And all the while, cloaked in thy ministry, + Dispense the sacraments of God to children-- + How canst thou do it? + +_Dimsdell._ If thou be not Satan, why raise this cloud? + Why vanish from my sight? Yet I did touch him even now-- + I'll kill him--Kill, kill, kill--now, now, now-- + +_Roger._ In trance again! Help! Help! Help! + +_Dimsdell becomes rigid; with arm uplifted as if to strike a death +blow. His speech thickens, and he stands motionless. Roger supports +him._ + + + + +ACT IV. + + +SCENE I.--_A room. DIMSDELL upon a couch in a cataleptic trance. +ROGER PRYNNE watching him. Two chairs; other furniture heavy and +immovable._ + +_Roger._ [_Feeling Dimsdell's pulse_] There's been no change. + A very long trance. + At times he mumbles; at other times, as now, + He lies like death. If ev'ry murderer + Were stricken with the image of the thing + Which he would deal, 'twould be a blessing! Yet + When consciousness returns, with it will come + The murderous disposition; for in these cases + The mind, although it wanders while the trance + Is on, always comes back upon its path + Where first it left It. Therefore, 'twere wise in me + To be on guard. Well, so I am; but what-- + What fear should drive me hence, or make me leave + The study of his case? He hath no arms + But such as both of us were born with; + And despite my age I am his equal that way. + Ah! a chair swung by a furious man + Might make an omelet of my brain; + Therefore, one chair will do--and that for me. [_Removes chair._ + +_Enter GOVERNOR BELLINGHAM in robes of office._ + +_Governor._ Good morning, Doctor. + +_Roger._ Good morning, Governor. I wish you, sir, + As happy and as prosperous a term + In office, as that just closing. + +_Governor._ I thank you, sir. + Has Dimsdell recovered from his trance? + +_Roger._ Not yet. There he lies. + +_Governor._ Wonderful! + Can you account for his condition, Doctor? + +_Roger._ There's no accounting for it, Governor. + This is the second trance I've seen him in; + How many more he's had, God only knows. + +_Governor._ 'Tis most unfortunate that we must lack + His eloquence to-day. The people, who + Always love high-sounding words more than + Wise thoughts, prefer the music of his voice + To good old Wilson's drone. Why isn't he in bed? + +_Roger._ Oh! there are many reasons; 'twould take too long + To tell you now; but at another time + I'll ask your patience for a tale more strange + Than ever made your flesh to creep. + +_Governor._ Is there mystery in the case? + +_Roger._ Mystery! aye, and miracle, too! + You know him, Governor--a man whose nerves + Are gossamers, too fine to sift the music + Of the blasts that blow about our burly world, + And only fit for harps whereon Zephyrus + In Elysium might breathe.--And yet this man-- + Oh! you'd not believe it if I told you. + +_Enter_ Servant. + +_Servant._ Your worship is asked for at the door. + +_Governor._ Say I am coming. We'll speak again of this. [_Exit Servant._ + I must be gone. We servants of the State + Are slaves to show, and serve the people best + When most we trick them. The pageant of the day + Goes much against my better judgment, but + The crowd will have it so, and so farewell. + +_Roger._ One moment, if you please. If he revives + He'll pick the thread of life up where he dropt it; + He may desire to preach, as he hath promised you, + And, if he doth, 'twere better not to thwart him. + +_Governor._ Very well. I'll speak to Wilson. + +_Roger._ I'm sorry I cannot go with you. Farewell. + +_Exit Governor. Dimsdell moves. Roger goes to his side and examines +him._ + + The pulse hath quickened. He moves his lips. + +_Dimsdell mumbles indistinctly._ + + I cannot catch it.-- + +_Dimsdell._ Think of it no more, my love.-- + Our troubles now are ended, Hester; + The gentle current of our mingled lives, + Long parted by the barren, rocky isle + Of hard necessity, flows reunited on. + +_Roger._ Indeed! + +_Dimsdell._ How sweet it is, in the afternoon of life, + To walk thus, hand in hand, Hester. And as + The golden sun of love falls gently down + Into the purple glory of the West, + We'll follow it. + +_Roger._ A lengthy jump--from sinning youth + Plump into the middle of an honored age! + Yet thus the mind, in trance or dream, achieves + Without an effort what it wills. Again? + +_Dimsdell._ Sir, take my daughter and my blessing, too; + Cherish her as the apple of thine eye; + Still shield her from the buffets of the world; + Let thy tenderness breathe gentle love + Like an Italian air sung at twilight, + When the melody without tunes that within + Until the soul arising on the wings + Of music soars into Heaven. + +_Roger._ Is there nothing in heredity? Or will + The orange-blossom take its fragrance from + The Heaven above; its origin forgot? + +_Dimsdell._ Hester, although the snow upon thy head + Be white as that on yonder distant mount, + Thine eyes are blue and deep as Leman's lake + That lies before us. + +_Roger._ Thus in our dreams we picture what we wish; + Not held to time or place; and while the body, + Like an anchor, sinks in mud, the winged craft + Swings with the tide of thought. + He's in Geneva now; Hester with him; + His daughter honorably married; + And all the pains of yesterday forgot. + I'll write it down. [_Roger makes notes._ + +_Dimsdell._ Good night, dear wife, good night. + The stars of Heaven melt into angel forms + Which stoop to lift me to the gates of bliss. + Farewell, farewell! Nay, weep not, Hester; + Our sins are now forgiven. + Yea, though I walk through the valley of th' shadow of death, + I will fear no evil.--Say it with me, Hester. + +_Roger._ Will he die thus? [_Examines Dimsdell._ + The pulse is weak--a clammy sweat-- + 'Tis but the culmination of the trance. + 'Tis but a dream. A dream! Yet one must die; + And to our human thought that death were best + That came preceded by a flag of truce + To parley peace. To pass away in dreams-- + Without the vain regret for work undone; + Without a load of sin to weight the soul; + With all the argentry of honored age + To frost our past; with all the fiercer heats + Of life burnt out into the cold, gray ash-- + That were peace! Then might a man yield up + The willing ghost as calmly as a child + That falls asleep upon its mother's breast + To wake in paradise. + +_Dimsdell starts up._ + +_Dimsdell._ I see thee now--and now I'll kill, kill, kill-- + If thou be Satan I cannot harm thee-- + But if a man-- + +_Dimsdell attempts to reach Roger, who keeps the one chair of the +room in front of him and thus wards off Dimsdell._ + +_Roger._ Madman, listen! Thou canst not harm me, yet I am not Satan. +My name is Roger Prynne. I am the husband of the woman you have +wronged. + +_Dimsdell._ Thou Roger Prynne? + +_Roger._ Aye, Roger Prynne and thine accuser. + +_Dimsdell looks about the room as though dazed._ + +_Dimsdell._ Why, how is this?--But now, the Governor's garden--and +now, my room!--But now, just now, old Doctor Chillingworth--and now, +mine enemy, Roger Prynne! Thou art the Devil himself!--Thou shalt +not trick me thus. + +_Band music in distance._ + +_Roger._ Trick thee? Why, madman, thou hast been in trance since +yester noon. Trick thee! I like the word! 'Tis now the time of day +when thou shouldst preach the great Election Sermon, the one event +that makes or mars you preachers. Dost hear the music? A day hath +passed since thou wast in the garden. They are marching even now to +the market place. + +_Dimsdell._ What shall I do? [_Aloud, but to himself._ + +_Roger._ Do? Stay here and settle our account; or else go on and +publish thyself as what thou art--a hypocrite. + +_Dimsdell._ I see it now!--Ah! Satan! Satan!--thou wouldst affright +my soul and make me lose my well earned honors. Why, Roger Prynne is +dead--dead. 'Twas told on good report two years ago. And now--oh! +try it if thou wilt--I'll have thee burnt, burnt--burnt at the +stake, if thou accusest me! Who would believe thee? Stand aside, I +say! Let me pass! + +_Roger._ How came the stigma on thy breast? + +_Dimsdell._ Thou knowest!--Make way, I tell thee!--Thou didst place +it there!--Make way! + +_They struggle. Roger interposes the chair between himself and +Dimsdell. Finally, Dimsdell wrenches the chair from Roger, flings it +aside, and, grappling him, chokes Roger to death._ + +_Dimsdell._ [_Panting_] A man! A man! A man!--Dead! dead! +dead!--Nay--like a man!--Like a dead man!--A trick!--A devilish +trick!--Did he not come in angel form--and then as Doctor +Chillingworth--and then as Roger Prynne--and now,--and now, as a +dead body? + +_Spurning Roger with his foot._ + +O, Devil, I'll avoid thee yet!--I'll confess my crime and thus +unslip the noose about my soul! + +_Hurriedly prepares to depart._ + +He said we'd meet again! We have, and 'tis the last time! [_Exit._ + + +SCENE II.--_Plain curtain, down. Music. Music ceases; subdued sounds +as of a multitude back of curtain. Then the voice of Dimsdell rises +as quiet returns._ + +_Dimsdell._ And now, good friends, Electors and Elected, + Although my speech hath run a lengthened course, + And what I purposed hath been said in full, + There's more comes to me now. + What is our purpose and our destiny? + +_Curtain rises rapidly, disclosing stage set as in Act I, Scene III. +Dimsdell upon a rostrum on church steps. Militia standing at rest. +Citizens and officials in gala attire._ + + We call us English, Anglo-Saxon; + And from the Old we come to build the New, + The equal England of our expectation. + Here in the wilderness, the first small germs + Of man's long-promised freedom find their soil; + Here hidden will they rot a little while; + Anon, the sprouts will break our troubled land, + Thrust forth the first red blades, and thence grow on, + Forever and forever! + I see this vast expanse of continent, + That dwarfs the noble states of cultured Europe, + Spread out before me like a map, from pole + To pole, and from the rising to the setting sun. + I see it teem with myriads; I see + Its densely peopled towns and villages; + I see its ports, greater than any known, + Send forth their riches to the hungry world. + I see, O blessed, wondrous sight! the strength + Of Anglo-Saxondom--our mighty England + And our great America, as one-- + The Lion and the Eagle side by side,-- + Leading the vanguard of humanity! + And more I see; I see the rise of man + Merely as man! + Let the day come, O Lord, when man, without + Addition to that noble title--man-- + Can stand erect before his fellow-man, + Outface Oppression with his flashing eye, + And stamp and grind proud Tyranny to dust. + Put in our hearts, O, Gracious God, the yeast + Of freedom; let it work our natures free, + Although it break to recombine again + The atoms of each state. + Send down thy pulsing tongues of burning truth; + Fire our souls with love of human kind; + Let hate consume itself; let war thresh out + The brutal part of man, and fit us for + The last long period of peace. + +_A pause, then cries severally._ + +_First Citizen._ Is he an angel or a man? Sure Gabriel himself. + +_Second Citizen._ Look! He faints. + +_Third Citizen._ Poor minister! + +_Dimsdell._ [_Rallying himself_] I will speak on. + +_Governor._ My pious friend, wear not thy body out + To please our willing ears. Thou hast exceeded + Thy feeble strength already. Cease, man; + Demosthenes himself could not have stood + The strain which thou hast undergone. Prithee,-- + +_Dimsdell._ I thank you; reason not my wastefulness, + For, if you make me answer you, you cause + More waste. My taper's burnt already. + It flickers even now, and, ere I leave + This place, my light, my life will go. + Question me not, + For, now I have fulfilled my public function, + There hurries on a duty of a private kind + I must perform at once or not at all; + Too long delayed already. + My friends, my life is flowing fast away, + I, that should be at full or on the turn, + Am near my lowest ebb. + This gnawing at my heart hath eaten through, + And now my soul releasing body bondage + Will take its flight--but where? + +_First Citizen._ It goes to Heaven when it flies; + But go not now. + +_Dimsdell._ Behold yon woman with The Scarlet Letter. + +_Citizens._ Oh, shame upon her! Fie! + +_Dimsdell._ Nay, shame on me; her sufferings have made + Her pure, but mine, beneath this lying robe, + Have eaten up my heart. Hypocrisy + Lie there [_Taking off gown_]. Now, while I do descend these steps + I leave my former life behind. + +_Descends and goes toward pillory._ + + Come, Hester, come! + Come take my hand, although it be unworthy. + +_Second Citizen._ Is the man mad, my masters? + +_Dimsdell._ Not mad, friend, not mad; but newly sane. + Come, my victim, come; assist me up + The pillory, there let us stand together-- + The woman of The Scarlet Letter, + And he who did this wrong. + +_First Citizen._ That holy man is mad. He an adulterer! + I'll believe it when th' Devil grows blind. + +_Dimsdell._ Support me, Hester. + +_Dimsdell and Hester ascend pillory together._ + + Ho! all ye people of the Commonwealth, + Behold the man for whom you oft have sought, + The man who should have borne The Scarlet Letter; + For I am he. + If that the last words of one sinful man + May warn a multitude from sin, who knows + But that his errors tend toward good at last. + Let me not think my suffering in vain, + Or that my crime confessed will lead on others + Unto their downfall. + Behold me as I am--O, what a pang + [_He clutches his breast from now on._ + Was that--a hypocritical adulterer. + Oh!--aye, a base, a low adulterer! + O, God, prolong my breath for this confession!-- + I wronged this woman who did fondly love me, + I did neglect her in my cowardice, + I shunned the public scorn.-- + O, but a little while!--I stood not with her; + I was a coward; and did deny my child. + Delay! Delay! + Now I avow my crime, I do confess it, + [_Kneels_] And here I beg you friends, as I have begged + My God, forgive me. Oh, I must be brief-- + If any think that while I walked these streets + In seeming honor I lacked my punishment, + Look here.-- [_Tearing shirt open and disclosing stigma._ + O--h! + This cancer did begin to gnaw my breast + When Hester first put on The Scarlet Letter + And never since hath once abated. + +_Voices._ O, wonderful! wonderful! He faints! Help! Help! + +_Hester._ Arthur! Arthur! one word for me! Only one! + +_Dimsdell._ I must say more. [_Falls._ + +_Hester._ Forgive him, Father! O, God, have mercy now; + Give him but breath to speak to me! + Arthur! Arthur! + +_Dimsdell._ Hester, my Hester, forgive-- [_Dies._ + +_Hester._ Farewell, farewell--dead, dead! + Nay, you shall not take him from me! + My breast shall be his pillow; and, that he may + Rest easy, I here cast off your Scarlet Letter. + +_Governor._ Captain, command your men to bear the body. + +_A solemn march._ + + +_THE END._ + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + +Archaic language and usage +have been faithfully preserved for this etext. +The only change was from "dramatic transscript" +to "dramatic transcript." + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Scarlet Stigma, by James Edgar Smith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCARLET STIGMA *** + +***** This file should be named 31112.txt or 31112.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/1/1/1/31112/ + +Produced by Sigal Alon and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive/American Libraries.) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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