 | The scarlet letter |  |
ACT I.
The Market-Place, Boston, with Prison at L., a rosebush in bloom growing by the door. At back, a Church or Meeting-House. At R., the Town Hall, and near it the Pillory, R. C. Openings on either side of the Meeting-House, giving a view of Boston Harbor.Puritan men and women, entering through these streets and at sides, assemble in excitement.
Master Brackett, the Jailer, with a company of Soldiers, stands near the Prison door.
CHORUS OF PURITAN MEN AND WOMEN.
Chorus.
How boldly shines the sun!
Yet outer darkness
Enfolds yon wicked woman: while, within her,
The wrong that she hath done
Gleams bold as bale-fire 'gainst the light of day.
O child of error, fair,
Caught in her beauty's own unhallowed snare;—
How boldly shines the sun
To flare upon her shame!
But she, with soul that burns in angry flame,
Stays close in her prison.
There, there she lurks—the sinner,
Hiding herself away.
Quick! Bring her forth.
6
Who dares here command?
The Governor cometh:
He only hath power to condemn.
Wait justice, then, at his hand.
[Pushing aside the people.
Aside, there, stand;—
Aside, I say!
You bluster like the wind,
For your will is the wind's rough way.
Chorus.
The woman hath foully sinned,
Yet vengeance slumbers.
To our folk she must expiate
The shame she hath bro't on them.
[They surge towards the jail as if to attack it.
Brackett.
Be silent. Hearken!
Chorus.
Hester, the sinner!
Bring forth the offender.
If she stood here before us,
For pity or pardon
To sue and implore us.
No mercy would lighten her burden;
For judgment stern we would render.
To crime give its guerdon:
Her sin is abhorrent:—
Death's doom we would award her,
Since the law gives us warrant.
To judgment! Condemn her!
[They make another rush at the jail, but are beaten back by the soldiers.
Brackett
(to the soldiers)
Guard the gate!
Enter Chillingworth, unobserved.
Chill.
What wrathful sound is this that rises loud?
How fierce their anger 'gainst an erring woman!
O strange! Tho' oft I've heard the hungry storm
Roar for its prey;—sharp winds of ocean moaning;—
More dreadful is this cry of human hearts
That know not mercy.
Brackett.
Behold, she comes!
7
She comes!
[The prison door opens. Crowd subsides into momentary hush. In the dark shadow of the corridor within the prison door a red glow is seen proceeding from a lantern hanging there. The soldiers form a lane through the crowd from the prison door to the pillory.
Chorus.
Hush, hush! Behold
From the prison gleams
A glowing flame.
See you not? See you not?
[Enter from prison door a jailer, followed after a brief pause by Hester. She stands for a moment on the door-step, silent, dignified, yet woe-begone. Hester, accompanied by Brackett, crosses stage towards the Pillory. Some of the crowd point at the Scarlet Letter on her breast. Others turn away or shield their eyes as though horror-stricken and blinded by it.
[Chillingworth, roused by their cries, moves to where he can see Hester, and gazes at her, at first curiously.
Chill.
This creature—who?
Nay, what horror! 'Tis Hester—
My wife! My wife!
Chorus.
Jezebel! Jezebel!
Daughter of hell!
See how serpent-like it twines,
Yon letter, with its coiling lines;
As though it were clutching her breast,
Of her soul in quest.
Lo, she sports with her shame,
And hath woven the letter
With gaudy splendor of scarlet.
The token that should be her fetter
She turns to a mocking flame
Of adornment. Down with the cursèd harlot:
Punish her evil doing;—
Banish her shadow, that darkens
Each true Puritan dwelling.
Staining us all with dishonor;
8
Far into hell-fire cast her.
Down with the cursèd harlot!
[Brackett and the Soldiers protect Hester from crowd. Reaching Pillory, she ascends it, and stands alone there, defiant.
Chill.
O blasting mockery! O bleak despair!
All mercy withers now in fires of hate;
And from my heart, like a black smoke, rolls up Revenge!
[Drum roll heard.
[Enter, on the balcony of the Town Hall, Arthur Dimmesdale, with his senior colleague, Rev. John Wilson; Gov. Bellingham and other dignitaries, attended by four sergeants.
Wilson.
Hester Prynne, hearken!
Thy husband absent,
Far beyond sea—
A child to thee here was born,
Bringing disgrace and scorn.
Heaven's wise decree
Hath taken thy daughter away,
Wafted on wings of death.
If with her thou wouldst feel
Heaven's holy breath,—
No longer thy secret conceal,
But thy fellow-offender accuse.
[Pause.
Hast thou no word to say?
[Hester remains silent.
Dost thou refuse?
[Hester is still silent.
[To Hester, laying his hand on Arthur's shoulder.
With my brother I've striven,
My colleague pastor—
This godly youth;—
That here in the face of heaven
He deal with you, touching the truth:
That no longer you hide
His name who wrought you this wrong
And led to your grievous falling
Guilt-burdened, bow your pride
Of sin: Hear conscience calling!
9
(to Arthur).
Yes, worthy sir.
You are her pastor and preacher.
Speak with her; plead—
Exhort her; beseech her.
(To Hester.)
Tho' thou hast wandered,
Far from the true path straying;—
The evil is in the deed,
Not in the saying.
Therefore take heed:
Confess! Confess!
And the powers of heaven may bless
Your late relenting.
(To Arthur.)
But you, O gentle brother,
Alone can prove
If she have grace for repenting;
This hapless mother.—
Lost wife beguiled
By alien love,—
Whom fate holds far from her husband,
And death despoils of her child.
Chorus.
Yea, worthy one, deal with this woman's soul.
Arthur.
Thou hearest them, Hester Prynne,
And, alas, thou seest
The maze of grief wherein
I walk, the least
Of those who dare sinners upbraid.
Thy welfare was in my keeping;
And so thy sin must be mine.
Fully thou hadst faith in thy guide:
All the more, therefore,
Imploring—yea, weeping—
My prayer must ascend for pardon.
Why, then, dost thou make no sign?
Nay, think; if thy lips thou harden,
Then I,—for thy poor soul's sake
That I so care for,
And even death would dare for—
Thy burden of silence upon me take.
10
O wise and child-like,
Simple and pure;—
With words of an angel he speaks!
Arthur
(to Hester).
Not so; but of one who seeks
To save thee from dole.
If peace to thee it would give,
And thy spirit make whole,
Or hope of salvation insure,—
Tell his name who with thee now suffers,
Though hiding his guilty heart.
High or low, spare him not from the ban.
Be not too tender,
Nor pity render
To him who, so, may be tempted
To play the dissembler's part.
Remember, he is not exempted
From the doom that shadows thee.
Think, ere thou repliest;
For if the truth thou deniest,
O Hester, Hester!—
His soul with thine condemned may be.
[Arthur sinks back, exhausted, with hand over heart. Bellingham and Wilson, anxious, support him.
Chorus.
Look, look! He reels
And trembles. Too sharp the stress
Of grief that he feels
For the wanton's woe.
Though fallen low,
Base woman, thou shouldst be proud
Of the wretchedness
His pity deigns to bless.
Answer him, aloud.
Arthur
(rousing himself to fresh effort).
Ay. Tell them who tempted thee.
Hester
(gently).
From me the world shall never know his name.
Wilson.
Confession and repentance may avail
To take the scarlet letter off thy breast.
Hester
(looking at Arthur.)
It is too deeply branded.
Ye cannot take it off!
11
Speak out the name:
Chorus.
Speak, speak!
Chill.
(from crowd).
Ay, woman; speak,
And give thy child a father!
Hester
(startled and agitated).
Ha; that voice—
No, no; thrice no, to thee! My child hath found
A heavenly father. Ye shall never know
Its earthly one.
ENSEMBLE.
ARTHUR, CHILLINGWORTH, BELLINGHAM, WILSON, HESTER, CHORUS.
Arthur.
O marvel! She will not speak.
O wondrous kindness of a woman's heart!
Reproach to my soul,
And agony deep!
For while I keep
My secret apart,
She, alas, undefended,
This open scorn
Alone must endure.
Maddening silence,
Torture accurst,
That burns the soul
Like lips athirst
Where hell-fires roll:
Ah, would the torture were ended!
Yet, ah, though humbly
I here were to kneel,
My guilt to unfold,—
Fair fame and falsehood spurning—
Too late for her weal
The truth would be told:
For the flowering dawn
Of her womanhood pure
Is lost in the hot noon's burning.
Chill.
Then, if she will not speak,
Hell close her lips, but open her heart to me
He who has betrayed
My sacred trust,
12
Ay; vengeance is just,
And in vain all concealing.
The traitor unknown
At my feet shall be laid.
Himself to me revealing.
But thou, who hast broken
Thy vow in disgrace,—
May the governor spare thee!
For thee I would rule
By thy shattered heart
And truth forsworn.
Till I ensnare thee,
And make thee mourn
Thine evil part,
And his, poor fool,—
With double woe contending.
Chorus.
She will not speak:
O devil-bound spirit!
What! here among us
Shall we then cherish
Satan's own seed?
Nay, from the land let her perish!
Ay; give her death!
Worshipful governor,
Dally not long
With her stubborn wrong,
Who shows no repentance;
But swift unto death
Give thou her sentence!
To death!
Hearken, all hearken!
What may he declare,—
Our ruler undaunted?
The doom in his face
By compassion is haunted:
Would he grant her a grace,
And will he so dare?
Nay, then, we demand
That the woman, banned
By law, shall have death,—
The wage of her dark offending!
13
She will not speak:
'Tis death within her soul that makes her dumb.
Yet not in vain
May pity seek
To wake again
The soul from trance,
Its slumber imbuing
With eager breath.
Let mercy be ours,—
Her life renewing.
O powers of heaven,
Give judgment wise
To thy servants here,—
That we to this woman
Your will may truly make known!
Let your light on us rise,
And your glory appear
In the words of the just;—
Or be it with death or life she atone.
Hester.
Maddening silence,
Torture accurst,
That burns the soul
Like lips athirst
Where hell-fires roll!
Almighty Father,
End thou this woe!
Whatever doom to me shall come,
Spare not my sin;
But lay me low,
Despised, accurst;
And save him, first,—
That he may win
The boon of thy pardon descending!
To guard his honor
He, too, must be dumb;
But alas for the grief
In his bosom pent as a prison!
May mercy, like rain
On the withering leaf,
His spirit renew,
Till his life upspring,
As a flower when dawn has arisen.
14
Tho' we slay her, still lives the father
We vainly have sought.
Young, fair, of her husband forsaken,—
So was her honor shaken,
Her ruin wrought.
Defiant, unbending,
She will not speak?
Yet loth am I to array,
The law's last power to say,
Her life shall now have ending.
I dare not condemn her!
For may it not be
That slow, sad time
And penance profound
Her heart will subdue?—
Till the truth of her prime
She seek to renew?
Hear, then! I decree
Not death. She is free—
(End of Ensemble.)
Chorus.
She is free!
Bellingham.
But henceforth apart
From other folk she must tarry;
And there on her heart,
Her life long, carry
Yon Scarlet Letter!
[Hester clutches at her bosom convulsively, and bows her head.
Chorus
(mocking her).
The scarlet woman
And Scarlet Letter!
What retribution better!
Ha, ha! Ha, ha!
All her life hereafter
Round her shall ring scorn and laughter.
Bellingham
(to Wilson).
Now, worthy minister,
For prayer and sermon!
Pour on the multitude
The dew of Hermon—
Thy balmy eloquence;—
That in union we dwell together.
[To the crowd.
15
Good people, repair.
[Wilson and the others enter the Meeting House. As Arthur passes the Pillory his glance meets Hester's. He turns away with bowed head, his hand clutching his breast, and hurriedly enters the Meeting House. Hester remains standing on the Pillory, and Chillingworth lingers near her.
Hester.
My heart is broken.
O shame and sorrow!
How shall I face the morrow,—
Wearing this token?
[Sinks down, fainting.
Chill.
(rushing up Pillory steps).
What has chanced here?
She must not die.
Now, necromancy,
Come to my aid!
[He mixes a potion in a leathern cup, which, with case bottles, he takes from his girdle; and pours the draught within her lips.
Hester
(partly recovering).
To mine anguish leave me:—
I am not afraid
To perish alone!
Chill.
Nay, look. It is I.
Dost thou not know me?
Hester
(starting up).
Thou! Thou?—
Roger Prynne, of the darkling brow!
Whence comest thou here?
Chill.
Hush, Hester. Have no fear.
Hester
(trying to conceal the Scarlet Letter).
But if thou know'st—
Chill.
The worst I know!
[A pause.
Far over ocean straying
Thee still—tho' long delaying—
I came to find.
But, lo, the unfaithful sea,
Wrecking us, cast me ashore
16
Whence, wandering long,
Through the silent forest,
Thee still to find, I came;—
Till here in the market-place
I beheld thy face
And thine open shame—
My wife!
Hester,
(in agony growing faint again).
Oh! I can bear no more!
[She droops, and is supported by Chill.
CHORAL.
(Heard within the church.)
Praise God, from whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below!
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host,
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Chill.
(proffering cup anew).
Drink this. Be strong.
Hester.
Will it bring me death?
Then gladly I drink it,
To win release.
[Chill. presses the cup upon her, and she drains it.
Chill.
(after she has drunk).
No; it gives thee life,
And keeps thee living,
That so thine infamy's mark
Still may burn on thy bosom.
Hester.
O pitiless, thou! and strange
The charm thy potion has wrought;
As though all my thought
Were artfully lulled, by thy soothing,
To some dark spell.
Chill.
Yea;—never to tell
Thy secret, save to me.
I ask not wherefore
Nor how you fell.
17
The fault was mine
To dream you loved me.
(Choral ends.)
Hester.
Love I felt not, nor feigned.
Chill.
Yet thou hast wronged me,
And the man still is living
Who wronged us both.
For him there can be no forgiving.
Speak, Hester. Who is he?
Hester.
Nay, ask me not! No power
Can wring from me his name.
Chill.
As in books I've sought truth,
Or, in alchemy, gold;
Him I'll hunt without ruth
Till his secret I hold.
Hester
(shuddering).
And then—you would kill?
Chill.
Nay. Let the man live!
I obey heaven's will.
Hester.
If its mercy should give
That in honor he bide?
Chill.
Like a star let him shine!
Yet, wherever he hide,
He is mine! He is mine!
Hester.
Thy deeds feign mercy,—but thy words are terror.
Chill.
Thou'st kept the mystery of thy paramour;
One thing I ask: that thou keep, also, mine.
None know me in this land; yet here's my home,
Near thee—near him. But thou—betray me not!
Hester.
Why dost thou lay upon me this command?
Chill.
Thy husband, to the world, is as one dead:
Henceforth the name of “Chillingworth” I wear.
Thou, recognize me not by word or sign,
Nor breathe our secret to the man thou knowest;
For if thou dost, his fame, his life will be
Mine to destroy. Hester, beware! beware!
Hester.
I will be secret, then, for thee—for him.
Chill.
(smiles grimly).
Ay; dwell in darkness, ever.
18
How strange thy smile!
Oh! art thou like the Black Man of the forest?
Hast thou enticed my soul into a bond
Of ruin?
Chill.
Thy soul, Hester? No; not thine!
(Choral begins again within Church.)
“God's voice breaks cedars; yea, God breaks cedars of Lebanus.”
[Tumult and cries heard within church. The people troop forth in confusion, excited, with Bellingham, etc. Some of them carry Arthur in their arms.
Chorus.
He has fainted. Air!
Help, help for our saintly pastor!
Hester.
Arthur! Arthur!
How ghostly pale!
[She runs to him swiftly; drops on her knees by him, anxious. The crowd angrily drive her away.
Chorus.
Back, woman! Thy touch
To his white soul is pollution.
Chill.
'Tis he. O wonder of darkness,—
I have found the man!
[Curtain.]
| The scarlet letter | |