III.
THE RECOGNITION.
From this intense consciousness of being the object of severe anduniversal observation, the wearer of the scarlet letter was at lengthrelieved, by discerning, on the outskirts of the crowd, a figure whichirresistibly took possession of her thoughts. An Indian, in his nativegarb, was standing there; but the red men were not so infrequentvisitors of the English settlements, that one of them would haveattracted any notice from Hester Prynne, at such a time; much lesswould he have excluded all other objects and ideas from her mind. Bythe Indian's side, and evidently sustaining a companionship with him,stood a white man, clad in a strange disarray of civilized and savagecostume.
He was small in stature, with a furrowed visage, which, as yet, couldhardly be termed aged. There was a remarkable intelligence in hisfeatures, as of a person who had so cultivated his mental part that itcould not fail to mould the physical to itself, and become manifest byunmistakable tokens. Although, by a seemingly careless arrangement ofhis heterogeneous garb, he had endeavored to conceal or abate thepeculiarity, it was sufficiently evident to Hester Prynne, that one ofthis man's shoulders rose higher than the other. Again, at the firstinstant of perceiving that thin visage, and the slight deformity ofthe figure, she pressed her infant to her bosom with so convulsive aforce that the poor babe uttered another cry of pain. But the motherdid not seem to hear it.
At his arrival in the market-place, and some time before she saw him,the stranger had bent his eyes on Hester Prynne. It was carelessly, atfirst, like a man chiefly accustomed to look inward, and to whomexternal matters are of little value and import, unless they bearrelation to something within his mind. Very soon, however, his lookbecame keen and penetrative. A writhing horror twisted itself acrosshis features, like a snake gliding swiftly over them, and making onelittle pause, with all its wreathed intervolutions in open sight. Hisface darkened with some powerful emotion, which, nevertheless, he soinstantaneously controlled by an effort of his will, that, save at asingle moment, its expression might have passed for calmness. After abrief space, the convulsion grew almost imperceptible, and finallysubsided into the depths of his nature. When he found the eyes ofHester Prynne fastened on his own, and saw that she appeared torecognize him, he slowly and calmly raised his finger, made a gesturewith it in the air, and laid it on his lips.
Then, touching the shoulder of a townsman who stood next to him, headdressed him, in a formal and courteous manner.
"I pray you, good Sir," said he, "who is this woman?--and wherefore isshe here set up to public shame?"
"You must needs be a stranger in this region, friend," answered thetownsman, looking curiously at the questioner and his savagecompanion, "else you would surely have heard of Mistress HesterPrynne, and her evil doings. She hath raised a great scandal, Ipromise you, in godly Master Dimmesdale's church."
"You say truly," replied the other. "I am a stranger, and have been awanderer, sorely against my will. I have met with grievous mishaps bysea and land, and have been long held in bonds among the heathen-folk,to the southward; and am now brought hither by this Indian, to beredeemed out of my captivity. Will it please you, therefore, to tellme of Hester Prynne's,--have I her name rightly?--of this woman'soffences, and what has brought her to yonder scaffold?"
"Truly, friend; and methinks it must gladden your heart, after yourtroubles and sojourn in the wilderness," said the townsman, "to findyourself, at length, in a land where iniquity is searched out, andpunished in the sight of rulers and people; as here in our godly NewEngland. Yonder woman, Sir, you must know, was the wife of a certainlearned man, English by birth, but who had long dwelt in Amsterdam,whence, some good time agone, he was minded to cross over and cast inhis lot with us of the Massachusetts. To this purpose, he sent hiswife before him, remaining himself to look after some necessaryaffairs. Marry, good Sir, in some two years, or less, that the womanhas been a dweller here in Boston, no tidings have come of thislearned gentleman, Master Prynne; and his young wife, look you, beingleft to her own misguidance--"
"Ah!--aha!--I conceive you," said the stranger, with a bitter smile."So learned a man as you speak of should have learned this too in hisbooks. And who, by your favor, Sir, may be the father of yonderbabe--it is some three or four months old, I should judge--whichMistress Prynne is holding in her arms?"
"Of a truth, friend, that matter remaineth a riddle; and the Danielwho shall expound it is yet a-wanting," answered the townsman. "MadamHester absolutely refuseth to speak, and the magistrates have laidtheir heads together in vain. Peradventure the guilty one standslooking on at this sad spectacle, unknown of man, and forgetting thatGod sees him."
"The learned man," observed the stranger, with another smile, "shouldcome himself, to look into the mystery."
"It behooves him well, if he be still in life," responded thetownsman. "Now, good Sir, our Massachusetts magistracy, bethinkingthemselves that this woman is youthful and fair, and doubtless wasstrongly tempted to her fall,--and that, moreover, as is most likely,her husband may be at the bottom of the sea,--they have not been boldto put in force the extremity of our righteous law against her. Thepenalty thereof is death. But in their great mercy and tenderness ofheart, they have doomed Mistress Prynne to stand only a space of threehours on the platform of the pillory, and then and thereafter, for theremainder of her natural life, to wear a mark of shame upon herbosom."
"A wise sentence!" remarked the stranger, gravely bowing his head."Thus she will be a living sermon against sin, until the ignominiousletter be engraved upon her tombstone. It irks me, nevertheless, thatthe partner of her iniquity should not, at least, stand on thescaffold by her side. But he will be known!--he will be known!--hewill be known!"
He bowed courteously to the communicative townsman, and, whispering afew words to his Indian attendant, they both made their way throughthe crowd.
While this passed, Hester Prynne had been standing on her pedestal,still with a fixed gaze towards the stranger; so fixed a gaze, that,at moments of intense absorption, all other objects in the visibleworld seemed to vanish, leaving only him and her. Such an interview,perhaps, would have been more terrible than even to meet him as shenow did, with the hot, mid-day sun burning down upon her face, andlighting up its shame; with the scarlet token of infamy on her breast;with the sin-born infant in her arms; with a whole people, drawn forthas to a festival, staring at the features that should have been seenonly in the quiet gleam of the fireside, in the happy shadow of ahome, or beneath a matronly veil, at church. Dreadful as it was, shewas conscious of a shelter in the presence of these thousandwitnesses. It was better to stand thus, with so many betwixt him andher, than to greet him, face to face, they two alone. She fled forrefuge, as it were, to the public exposure, and dreaded the momentwhen its protection should be withdrawn from her. Involved in thesethoughts, she scarcely heard a voice behind her, until it had repeatedher name more than once, in a loud and solemn tone, audible to thewhole multitude.
"Hearken unto me, Hester Prynne!" said the voice.
It has already been noticed, that directly over the platform on whichHester Prynne stood was a kind of balcony, or open gallery, appendedto the meeting-house. It was the place whence proclamations were wontto be made, amidst an assemblage of the magistracy, with all theceremonial that attended such public observances in those days. Here,to witness the scene which we are describing, sat Governor Bellinghamhimself, with four sergeants about his chair, bearing halberds, as aguard of honor. He wore a dark feather in his hat, a border ofembroidery on his cloak, and a black velvet tunic beneath; agentleman advanced in years, with a hard experience written in hiswrinkles. He was not ill fitted to be the head and representative of acommunity, which owed its origin and progress, and its present stateof development, not to the impulses of youth, but to the stern andtempered energies of manhood, and the sombre sagacity of age;accomplishing so much, precisely because
it imagined and hoped solittle. The other eminent characters, by whom the chief ruler wassurrounded, were distinguished by a dignity of mien, belonging to aperiod when the forms of authority were felt to possess the sacrednessof Divine institutions. They were, doubtless, good men, just and sage.But, out of the whole human family, it would not have been easy toselect the same number of wise and virtuous persons, who should beless capable of sitting in judgment on an erring woman's heart, anddisentangling its mesh of good and evil, than the sages of rigidaspect towards whom Hester Prynne now turned her face. She seemedconscious, indeed, that whatever sympathy she might expect lay in thelarger and warmer heart of the multitude; for, as she lifted her eyestowards the balcony, the unhappy woman grew pale and trembled.
The voice which had called her attention was that of the reverend andfamous John Wilson, the eldest clergyman of Boston, a great scholar,like most of his contemporaries in the profession, and withal a man ofkind and genial spirit. This last attribute, however, had been lesscarefully developed than his intellectual gifts, and was, in truth,rather a matter of shame than self-congratulation with him. There hestood, with a border of grizzled locks beneath his skull-cap; whilehis gray eyes, accustomed to the shaded light of his study, werewinking, like those of Hester's infant, in the unadulteratedsunshine. He looked like the darkly engraved portraits which we seeprefixed to old volumes of sermons; and had no more right than one ofthose portraits would have, to step forth, as he now did, and meddlewith a question of human guilt, passion, and anguish.
"Hester Prynne," said the clergyman, "I have striven with my youngbrother here, under whose preaching of the word you have beenprivileged to sit,"--here Mr. Wilson laid his hand on the shoulder ofa pale young man beside him,--"I have sought, I say, to persuade thisgodly youth, that he should deal with you, here in the face of Heaven,and before these wise and upright rulers, and in hearing of all thepeople, as touching the vileness and blackness of your sin. Knowingyour natural temper better than I, he could the better judge whatarguments to use, whether of tenderness or terror, such as mightprevail over your hardness and obstinacy; insomuch that you should nolonger hide the name of him who tempted you to this grievous fall. Buthe opposes to me (with a young man's over-softness, albeit wise beyondhis years), that it were wronging the very nature of woman to forceher to lay open her heart's secrets in such broad daylight, and inpresence of so great a multitude. Truly, as I sought to convince him,the shame lay in the commission of the sin, and not in the showing ofit forth. What say you to it, once again, Brother Dimmesdale? Must itbe thou, or I, that shall deal with this poor sinner's soul?"
There was a murmur among the dignified and reverend occupants of thebalcony; and Governor Bellingham gave expression to its purport,speaking in an authoritative voice, although tempered with respecttowards the youthful clergyman whom he addressed.
"Good Master Dimmesdale," said he, "the responsibility of this woman'ssoul lies greatly with you. It behooves you, therefore, to exhort herto repentance, and to confession, as a proof and consequence thereof."
The directness of this appeal drew the eyes of the whole crowd uponthe Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale; a young clergyman, who had come from oneof the great English universities, bringing all the learning of theage into our wild forest-land. His eloquence and religious fervor hadalready given the earnest of high eminence in his profession. He was aperson of very striking aspect, with a white, lofty, and impendingbrow, large brown, melancholy eyes, and a mouth which, unless when heforcibly compressed it, was apt to be tremulous, expressing bothnervous sensibility and a vast power of self-restraint.Notwithstanding his high native gifts and scholar-like attainments,there was an air about this young minister,--an apprehensive, astartled, a half-frightened look,--as of a being who felt himselfquite astray and at a loss in the pathway of human existence, andcould only be at ease in some seclusion of his own. Therefore, so faras his duties would permit, he trod in the shadowy by-paths, and thuskept himself simple and childlike; coming forth, when occasion was,with a freshness, and fragrance, and dewy purity of thought, which, asmany people said, affected them like the speech of an angel.
Such was the young man whom the Reverend Mr. Wilson and the Governorhad introduced so openly to the public notice, bidding him speak, inthe hearing of all men, to that mystery of a woman's soul, so sacredeven in its pollution. The trying nature of his position drove theblood from his cheek, and made his lips tremulous.
"Speak to the woman, my brother," said Mr. Wilson. "It is of moment toher soul, and therefore, as the worshipful Governor says, momentous tothine own, in whose charge hers is. Exhort her to confess the truth!"
The Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale bent his head, in silent prayer, as itseemed, and then came forward.
"Hester Prynne," said he, leaning over the balcony and looking downsteadfastly into her eyes, "thou hearest what this good man says, andseest the accountability under which I labor. If thou feelest it to befor thy soul's peace, and that thy earthly punishment will thereby bemade more effectual to salvation, I charge thee to speak out the nameof thy fellow-sinner and fellow-sufferer! Be not silent from anymistaken pity and tenderness for him; for, believe me, Hester, thoughhe were to step down from a high place, and stand there beside thee,on thy pedestal of shame, yet better were it so than to hide a guiltyheart through life. What can thy silence do for him, except it tempthim--yea, compel him, as it were--to add hypocrisy to sin? Heaven hathgranted thee an open ignominy, that thereby thou mayest work out anopen triumph over the evil within thee, and the sorrow without. Takeheed how thou deniest to him--who, perchance, hath not the courage tograsp it for himself--the bitter, but wholesome, cup that is nowpresented to thy lips!"
The young pastor's voice was tremulously sweet, rich, deep, andbroken. The feeling that it so evidently manifested, rather than thedirect purport of the words, caused it to vibrate within all hearts,and brought the listeners into one accord of sympathy. Even the poorbaby, at Hester's bosom, was affected by the same influence; for itdirected its hitherto vacant gaze towards Mr. Dimmesdale, and held upits little arms, with a half-pleased, half-plaintive murmur. Sopowerful seemed the minister's appeal, that the people could notbelieve but that Hester Prynne would speak out the guilty name; orelse that the guilty one himself, in whatever high or lowly place hestood, would be drawn forth by an inward and inevitable necessity, andcompelled to ascend to the scaffold.
Hester shook her head.
"Woman, transgress not beyond the limits of Heaven's mercy!" cried theReverend Mr. Wilson, more harshly than before. "That little babe hathbeen gifted with a voice, to second and confirm the counsel which thouhast heard. Speak out the name! That, and thy repentance, may avail totake the scarlet letter off thy breast."
"Never!" replied Hester Prynne, looking, not at Mr. Wilson, but intothe deep and troubled eyes of the younger clergyman. "It is too deeplybranded. Ye cannot take it off. And would that I might endure hisagony, as well as mine!"
"Speak, woman!" said another voice, coldly and sternly, proceedingfrom the crowd about the scaffold. "Speak; and give your child afather!"
"I will not speak!" answered Hester, turning pale as death, butresponding to this voice, which she too surely recognized. "And mychild must seek a heavenly Father; she shall never know an earthlyone!"
"She will not speak!" murmured Mr. Dimmesdale, who, leaning over thebalcony, with his hand upon his heart, had awaited the result of hisappeal. He now drew back, with a long respiration. "Wondrous strengthand generosity of a woman's heart! She will not speak!"
"She was led back to Prison"]
Discerning the impracticable state of the poor culprit's mind, theelder clergyman, who had carefully prepared himself for the occasion,addressed to the multitude a discourse on sin, in all its branches,but with continual reference to the ignominious letter. So forciblydid he dwell upon this symbol, for the hour or more during which hisperiods were rolling over the people's heads, that it assumed newterrors in their imagination, and seemed to derive its scarlet huefr
om the flames of the infernal pit. Hester Prynne, meanwhile, kepther place upon the pedestal of shame, with glazed eyes, and an air ofweary indifference. She had borne, that morning, all that nature couldendure; and as her temperament was not of the order that escapes fromtoo intense suffering by a swoon, her spirit could only shelter itselfbeneath a stony crust of insensibility, while the faculties of animallife remained entire. In this state, the voice of the preacherthundered remorselessly, but unavailingly, upon her ears. The infant,during the latter portion of her ordeal, pierced the air with itswailings and screams; she strove to hush it, mechanically, but seemedscarcely to sympathize with its trouble. With the same hard demeanor,she was led back to prison, and vanished from the public gaze withinits iron-clamped portal. It was whispered, by those who peered afterher, that the scarlet letter threw a lurid gleam along the darkpassage-way of the interior.
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