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,
top 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.

[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.

top

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? top 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.

top

Roger. If he do walk the earth, I'll find him out; if he be now in Hell, I'll follow him; where'er he be, his peace is forfeited and 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.

top

Roger. Thou wilt do nothing of the kind. But come, Hester, man and wife ought not to quarrel. Let us set a good example to the world in peace if not in chastity. Sit you here and listen to me.

Hester. Well?

Roger. Hester, I loved thee when thou wast a babe,
A prattling child no taller than my knee,
A pretty little innocent, a 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.

top

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 linkÉd 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.
top That sinning soul is traitor to itself
That leagues its bruisÉd 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 agÉd 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,
top 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!
top 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

[Exit.

Bronson. They say the Reverend Master Dimsdell hath
Recovered from his fainting fit, and will,
top 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!

top

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.

[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
top 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
top 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,

[Exeunt.

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
top 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!
top 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.

top

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
top 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.

top

Behold the woman as thou first didst know her,
A loveliness to tempt or saint or devil,
The rare quintessence of pure womanhood!
Transparent brightness! A living crystal globe,
Wherein all beauties of 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
top 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.

top

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