XIII.
ANOTHER VIEW OF HESTER.
In her late singular interview with Mr. Dimmesdale, Hester Prynne wasshocked at the condition to which she found the clergyman reduced. Hisnerve seemed absolutely destroyed. His moral force was abased intomore than childish weakness. It grovelled helpless on the ground, evenwhile his intellectual faculties retained their pristine strength, orhad perhaps acquired a morbid energy, which disease only could havegiven them. With her knowledge of a train of circumstances hidden fromall others, she could readily infer that, besides the legitimateaction of his own conscience, a terrible machinery had been brought tobear, and was still operating, on Mr. Dimmesdale's well-being andrepose. Knowing what this poor, fallen man had once been, her wholesoul was moved by the shuddering terror with which he had appealed toher,--the outcast woman,--for support against his instinctivelydiscovered enemy. She decided, moreover, that he had a right to herutmost aid. Little accustomed, in her long seclusion from society, tomeasure her ideas of right and wrong by any standard external toherself, Hester saw--or seemed to see--that there lay a responsibilityupon her, in reference to the clergyman, which she owed to no other,nor to the whole world besides. The links that united her to the restof human kind--links of flowers, or silk, or gold, or whatever thematerial--had all been broken. Here was the iron link of mutual crime,which neither he nor she could break. Like all other ties, it broughtalong with it its obligations.
Hester Prynne did not now occupy precisely the same position in whichwe beheld her during the earlier periods of her ignominy. Years hadcome and gone. Pearl was now seven years old. Her mother, with thescarlet letter on her breast, glittering in its fantastic embroidery,had long been a familiar object to the towns-people. As is apt to bethe case when a person stands out in any prominence before thecommunity, and, at the same time, interferes neither with public norindividual interests and convenience, a species of general regard hadultimately grown up in reference to Hester Prynne. It is to the creditof human nature, that, except where its selfishness is brought intoplay, it loves more readily than it hates. Hatred, by a gradual andquiet process, will even be transformed to love, unless the change beimpeded by a continually new irritation of the original feeling ofhostility. In this matter of Hester Prynne, there was neitherirritation nor irksomeness. She never battled with the public, butsubmitted, uncomplainingly, to its worst usage; she made no claim uponit, in requital for what she suffered; she did not weigh upon itssympathies. Then, also, the blameless purity of her life during allthese years in which she had been set apart to infamy, was reckonedlargely in her favor. With nothing now to lose, in the sight ofmankind, and with no hope, and seemingly no wish, of gaining anything,it could only be a genuine regard for virtue that had brought back thepoor wanderer to its paths.
Hester in the House of Mourning]
It was perceived, too, that while Hester never put forward even thehumblest title to share in the world's privileges,--further than tobreathe the common air, and earn daily bread for little Pearl andherself by the faithful labor of her hands,--she was quick toacknowledge her sisterhood with the race of man, whenever benefitswere to be conferred. None so ready as she to give of her littlesubstance to every demand of poverty; even though the bitter-heartedpauper threw back a gibe in requital of the food brought regularly tohis door, or the garments wrought for him by the fingers that couldhave embroidered a monarch's robe. None so self-devoted as Hester,when pestilence stalked through the town. In all seasons of calamity,indeed, whether general or of individuals, the outcast of society atonce found her place. She came, not as a guest, but as a rightfulinmate, into the household that was darkened by trouble; as if itsgloomy twilight were a medium in which she was entitled to holdintercourse with her fellow-creatures. There glimmered the embroideredletter, with comfort in its unearthly ray. Elsewhere the token of sin,it was the taper of the sick-chamber. It had even thrown its gleam, inthe sufferer's hard extremity, across the verge of time. It had shownhim where to set his foot, while the light of earth was fast becomingdim, and ere the light of futurity could reach him. In suchemergencies, Hester's nature showed itself warm and rich; awell-spring of human tenderness, unfailing to every real demand, andinexhaustible by the largest. Her breast, with its badge of shame, wasbut the softer pillow for the head that needed one. She wasself-ordained a Sister of Mercy; or, we may rather say, the world'sheavy hand had so ordained her, when neither the world nor she lookedforward to this result. The letter was the symbol of her calling. Suchhelpfulness was found in her,--so much power to do, and power tosympathize,--that many people refused to interpret the scarlet A byits original signification. They said that it meant Able; so strongwas Hester Prynne, with a woman's strength.
It was only the darkened house that could contain her. When sunshinecame again, she was not there. Her shadow had faded across thethreshold. The helpful inmate had departed, without one backwardglance to gather up the meed of gratitude, if any were in the heartsof those whom she had served so zealously. Meeting them in thestreet, she never raised her head to receive their greeting. If theywere resolute to accost her, she laid her finger on the scarletletter, and passed on. This might be pride, but was so like humility,that it produced all the softening influence of the latter quality onthe public mind. The public is despotic in its temper; it is capableof denying common justice, when too strenuously demanded as a right;but quite as frequently it awards more than justice, when the appealis made, as despots love to have it made, entirely to its generosity.Interpreting Hester Prynne's deportment as an appeal of this nature,society was inclined to show its former victim a more benigncountenance than she cared to be favored with, or, perchance, than shedeserved.
The rulers, and the wise and learned men of the community, were longerin acknowledging the influence of Hester's good qualities than thepeople. The prejudices which they shared in common with the latterwere fortified in themselves by an iron framework of reasoning, thatmade it a far tougher labor to expel them. Day by day, nevertheless,their sour and rigid wrinkles were relaxing into something which, inthe due course of years, might grow to be an expression of almostbenevolence. Thus it was with the men of rank, on whom their eminentposition imposed the guardianship of the public morals. Individuals inprivate life, meanwhile, had quite forgiven Hester Prynne for herfrailty; nay, more, they had begun to look upon the scarlet letter asthe token, not of that one sin, for which she had borne so long anddreary a penance, but of her many good deeds since. "Do you see thatwoman with the embroidered badge?" they would say to strangers. "It isour Hester,--the town's own Hester, who is so kind to the poor, sohelpful to the sick, so comfortable to the afflicted!" Then, it istrue, the propensity of human nature to tell the very worst of itself,when embodied in the person of another, would constrain them towhisper the black scandal of bygone years. It was none the less afact, however, that, in the eyes of the very men who spoke thus, thescarlet letter had the effect of the cross on a nun's bosom. Itimparted to the wearer a kind of sacredness, which enabled her to walksecurely amid all peril. Had she fallen among thieves, it would havekept her safe. It was reported, and believed by many, that an Indianhad drawn his arrow against the badge, and that the missile struck it,but fell harmless to the ground.
The effect of the symbol--or, rather, of the position in respect tosociety that was indicated by it--on the mind of Hester Prynneherself, was powerful and peculiar. All the light and graceful foliageof her character had been withered up by this red-hot brand, and hadlong ago fallen away, leaving a bare and harsh outline, which mighthave been repulsive, had she possessed friends or companions to berepelled by it. Even the attractiveness of her person had undergone asimilar change. It might be partly owing to the studied austerity ofher dress, and partly to the lack of demonstration in her manners. Itwas a sad transformation, too, that her rich and luxuriant hair hadeither been cut off, or was so completely hidden by a cap, that no
t ashining lock of it ever once gushed into the sunshine. It was due inpart to all these causes, but still more to something else, that thereseemed to be no longer anything in Hester's face for Love to dwellupon; nothing in Hester's form, though majestic and statue-like, thatPassion would ever dream of clasping in its embrace; nothing inHester's bosom, to make it ever again the pillow of Affection. Someattribute had departed from her, the permanence of which had beenessential to keep her a woman. Such is frequently the fate, and suchthe stern development, of the feminine character and person, when thewoman has encountered, and lived through, an experience of peculiarseverity. If she be all tenderness, she will die. If she survive, thetenderness will either be crushed out of her, or--and the outwardsemblance is the same--crushed so deeply into her heart that it cannever show itself more. The latter is perhaps the truest theory. Shewho has once been woman, and ceased to be so, might at any momentbecome a woman again if there were only the magic touch to effect thetransfiguration. We shall see whether Hester Prynne were everafterwards so touched, and so transfigured.
Much of the marble coldness of Hester's impression was to beattributed to the circumstance, that her life had turned, in a greatmeasure, from passion and feeling, to thought. Standing alone in theworld,--alone, as to any dependence on society, and with little Pearlto be guided and protected,--alone, and hopeless of retrieving herposition, even had she not scorned to consider it desirable,--she castaway the fragments of a broken chain. The world's law was no law forher mind. It was an age in which the human intellect, newlyemancipated, had taken a more active and a wider range than for manycenturies before. Men of the sword had overthrown nobles and kings.Men bolder than these had overthrown and rearranged--not actually, butwithin the sphere of theory, which was their most real abode--thewhole system of ancient prejudice, wherewith was linked much ofancient principle. Hester Prynne imbibed this spirit. She assumed afreedom of speculation, then common enough on the other side of theAtlantic, but which our forefathers, had they known it, would haveheld to be a deadlier crime than that stigmatized by the scarletletter. In her lonesome cottage, by the sea-shore, thoughts visitedher, such as dared to enter no other dwelling in New England; shadowyguests, that would have been as perilous as demons to theirentertainer, could they have been seen so much as knocking at herdoor.
It is remarkable, that persons who speculate the most boldly oftenconform with the most perfect quietude to the external regulations ofsociety. The thought suffices them, without investing itself in theflesh and blood of action. So it seemed to be with Hester. Yet, hadlittle Pearl never come to her from the spiritual world, it might havebeen far otherwise. Then, she might have come down to us in history,hand in hand with Ann Hutchinson, as the foundress of a religioussect. She might, in one of her phases, have been a prophetess. Shemight, and not improbably would, have suffered death from the sterntribunals of the period, for attempting to undermine the foundationsof the Puritan establishment. But, in the education of her child, themother's enthusiasm of thought had something to wreak itself upon.Providence, in the person of this little girl, had assigned toHester's charge the germ and blossom of womanhood, to be cherished anddeveloped amid a host of difficulties. Everything was against her. Theworld was hostile. The child's own nature had something wrong in it,which continually betokened that she had been born amiss,--theeffluence of her mother's lawless passion,--and often impelled Hesterto ask, in bitterness of heart, whether it were for ill or good thatthe poor little creature had been born at all.
Indeed, the same dark question often rose into her mind, withreference to the whole race of womanhood. Was existence worthaccepting, even to the happiest among them? As concerned her ownindividual existence, she had long ago decided in the negative, anddismissed the point as settled. A tendency to speculation, though itmay keep woman quiet, as it does man, yet makes her sad. She discerns,it may be, such a hopeless task before her. As a first step, the wholesystem of society is to be torn down, and built up anew. Then, thevery nature of the opposite sex, or its long hereditary habit, whichhas become like nature, is to be essentially modified, before womancan be allowed to assume what seems a fair and suitable position.Finally, all other difficulties being obviated, woman cannot takeadvantage of these preliminary reforms, until she herself shall haveundergone a still mightier change; in which, perhaps, the etherealessence, wherein she has her truest life, will be found to haveevaporated. A woman never overcomes these problems by any exercise ofthought. They are not to be solved, or only in one way. If her heartchance to come uppermost, they vanish. Thus, Hester Prynne, whoseheart had lost its regular and healthy throb, wandered without a clewin the dark labyrinth of mind; now turned aside by an insurmountableprecipice; now starting back from a deep chasm. There was wild andghastly scenery all around her, and a home and comfort nowhere. Attimes, a fearful doubt strove to possess her soul, whether it were notbetter to send Pearl at once to heaven, and go herself to suchfuturity as Eternal Justice should provide.
The scarlet letter had not done its office.
Now, however, her interview with the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale, on thenight of his vigil, had given her a new theme of reflection, and heldup to her an object that appeared worthy of any exertion and sacrificefor its attainment. She had witnessed the intense misery beneathwhich the minister struggled, or, to speak more accurately, had ceasedto struggle. She saw that he stood on the verge of lunacy, if he hadnot already stepped across it. It was impossible to doubt, that,whatever painful efficacy there might be in the secret sting ofremorse, a deadlier venom had been infused into it by the hand thatproffered relief. A secret enemy had been continually by his side,under the semblance of a friend and helper, and had availed himself ofthe opportunities thus afforded for tampering with the delicatesprings of Mr. Dimmesdale's nature. Hester could not but ask herself,whether there had not originally been a defect of truth, courage, andloyalty, on her own part, in allowing the minister to be thrown into aposition where so much evil was to be foreboded, and nothingauspicious to be hoped. Her only justification lay in the fact, thatshe had been able to discern no method of rescuing him from a blackerruin than had overwhelmed herself, except by acquiescing in RogerChillingworth's scheme of disguise. Under that impulse, she had madeher choice, and had chosen, as it now appeared, the more wretchedalternative of the two. She determined to redeem her error, so far asit might yet be possible. Strengthened by years of hard and solemntrial, she felt herself no longer so inadequate to cope with RogerChillingworth as on that night, abased by sin, and half maddened bythe ignominy that was still new, when they had talked together in theprison-chamber. She had climbed her way, since then, to a higherpoint. The old man, on the other hand, had brought himself nearer toher level, or perhaps below it, by the revenge which he had stoopedfor.
In fine, Hester Prynne resolved to meet her former husband, and dowhat might be in her power for the rescue of the victim on whom hehad so evidently set his gripe. The occasion was not long to seek. Oneafternoon, walking with Pearl in a retired part of the peninsula, shebeheld the old physician, with a basket on one arm, and a staff in theother hand, stooping along the ground, in quest of roots and herbs toconcoct his medicines withal.