University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

The Market-Place, as in Act I, with view of harbor at back. A crowd of Puritan men and women, intermingled with men from forest settlements. Sailors interspersed among crowd. Chillingworth is seen at one side, conferring closely with the Bristol Shipmaster. A crowd of English Pilgrims, just arriving at the Market-Place. During their song Chillingworth leaves the Shipmaster and disappears in the crowd.
GLEE.
The new Pilgrim.

Shipmaster
(crossing stage).
But as for me—
To the ancient island lies my way,
However wild the waves may be.
I, in sooth, myself am wild;
And yet, a faithful child,
Dear mother England I long to see.

The new Pilgrims.
With a heigh for the Pilgrim, hey!

[Music of Procession heard in distance. The crowd surges off to one side, looking for the pageant to approach.
Chorus
(behind the scenes).
Hark! They are coming
In stately array.
Hear the music proud, the roll of the drumming.
Cheer, now, cheer for Election day.
The minister true and the new magistrate
Once more will ope to us liberty's gate,
And close it against all hardy sin.
Thank heaven we stand the gate within!

Enter Hester.
[Those of the people who are nearest her, shrink away.
CHORUS.
Puritans.
The sign of thy sin
A magic circle has drawn around thee;
Scorn ever shall hound thee:
Away; away!

[They leave the stage.
Hester.
Alone? ay, gladly;
For not, as once, an outcast prone
I lie at your feet.
My freedom I greet,
And move apart—no longer sadly!
No longer to you a bond-slave I moan,
Nor dark spells now my soul defile.
On the Scarlet Letter look your last!
For, yet a little while,
Your tyrant sway is past.
Tho' now I must yield,
There in the forest vast
The blight from my bosom I cast:
If here I endure it again,
To triumph is turned this outward stain—
On the joy, that throbs within me, sealed.
Soon, soon beyond your reach,
Harsh people merciless,
I fly to the whispering tide
And the loved one's caress.
Yon dark mysterious sea will hide
My wrong and my happiness
From your evil speech!
[To the Shipmaster, who has come near her.
God greet thee! All is well?

Shipmaster.
Ay, mistress; if I dare say so!
I have it on truth of a witch's word;
And witches, I've heard,
Know darkness from light.
Our barque is ready:
At anchor she rides
For a turn of the tides:
And, wind holding steady,
We sail to-night.
Good omen I deem it,
And company rare,
That you, sweet lady,
With us will fare.

Hester.
Dost thou not know
The best of omens thou canst hope
Will be his presence who goes with me?

Shipmaster.
Is it truly so?
Then darkly I grope.
Didst thou not say he flies in fear
Of hurt from the Puritan Fathers here?
If wrong he has wrought,
How can his presence with blessing be fraught?
Still—the better, say I, if saint he be!
Since thou spokest, last night,
Of passage flight,
Yon old leech came to seek a berth.
He, too, it seems, would cross the earth.
If saint and doctor together go,
Fair winds indeed must blow.

Hester
(aside).
Ah, worse than death those words presage!
[To Shipmaster
Yon leech! What mean you?

Shipmaster.
Why, he—the old chirurgeon mage:
Know you not?—Chillingworth.

Hester.
Then he, too, has seen you?
Dost tell me now, that he will sail
With us on your ship?

Shipmaster.
Ay; with a favoring gale
And gladsome weather,
To these bitter folk we'll give the slip.
Is it not well done?
He,—the hump-shouldered one—
Long has he known your friend:
They've dwelt together.
The leech will cling to him unto the end.

[He leaves her and mingles with the crowd.
Hester.
Lost, lost, then. All is lost!
Nor in this New World solitude,
Or amid-sea tossed,
Can we the black enchantment elude!
[She perceives Chillingworth at the opposite side of the market-place, smiling at her with vindictive meaning.
O devil-face and mocking smile!
Where watchful malice ever lurks!—
What serpent in that heart of guile
So sombre dwells and slyly works,—
Sharp gleaming on me from his eyes?
Our plot he unriddles; our hope forestalls,
With craft unknown.
Closer he holds us than prison-walls:
Hate is harder than stone.
Ah, if unto Arthur
One word of warning
I might but speak!
Yet, alas, 'mid the multitude scorning,
The sole one who loves me I dare not seek.
Help, help! Will God not find us,
'Mid the snares of hell that bind us?

[Music of procession heard nearer.
Chill.
(on opposite side of market-place).
In vain the wile
Of flight or turning;
And wasted all her woeful cries!
For unto my hate, like incense burning,
Her flame of agony still doth rise.
The last word is spoken;
Her last hope broken;
Her with her lover henceforth I hold
In the mesh of my net.
They shall render me yet
A heavier price of their wrong, than gold.
And what can their anguish weigh
'Gainst the hurt to my hidden pride?
Or go they or stay,
My vengeance they still must abide,
And in torture burn;—
For all entreating of pity I spurn.

Chorus
(behind the scenes).
How gayly they play!
They know the tune for Election Day.

[Enter Band of Musicians, from one side, followed by the populace.
Chorus.
The Company Ancient
Of Honored Artillery!

[Enter escort of Citizen Soldiers—the Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company—in burnished steel, with gay plumes nodding over their morions.
Chorus.
And the magistrates! Lo,
They come with fitting footsteps slow.

Enter Bellingham.
Chorus.
Thou who wast governor,—
Praised be thy skill!
But now we greet our new ruler,
The choice of the people's will.
Beat loud the drums!
John Endicott comes.
Endicott! Endicott!—
Governor elect!

[Enter, during this chorus, Governor John Endicott, accompanied by other dignitaries, and bows to the crowd, right and left. Bellingham, Endicott and the others arrange themselves near Church, at back.
Chorus.
Behold our pastor—
Dear Master Arthur.
And yet his face—how pale!
A shadow sable
Draws round him as he advances.
Nay: these are fancies;
For see how firm, erect
He steps,—as though some purpose high
His weakness were sustaining.
God-given impulse only, past all fear,
Could guide his forces frail
To bring us here
His treasure of teaching,
And bounteous preaching—
Sweet thoughts upon us raining.
Welcome, our pastor: hail—
Our hope that cannot fail!

[Enter Arthur, with Wilson.
Bellingham, Endicott and the others wait for Arthur to approach the Church, through the lane which they have formed.
Arthur, standing erect, yet apparently weak physically, pauses. Then, instead of going towards the Church, he turns; crosses the stage slowly, and beckons to Hester.
Arthur.
Hester, come hither:
My Hester—come!

[Hester, who till now has remained where she was, half crouching in despair, draws herself up and moves towards him slowly, as if spell-bound.
Chill.
(starting forth from the crowd).
Hold, madman! Hold!
What dreams distraught
Your senses benumb!
Wave back that woman!
I yet can save you:
All shall be well.

Arthur.
Ha, tempter appalling,
Thou art too late!
Thy power no longer
My life controls:
A spirit stronger
Than thine quells thy hate.
God is mighty above us. The soul of souls
My will at last sets free from thine:
I shall escape thee now!

Chorus.
What trouble does Satan for us design?
Some phantasy strange, pursuing
The blameless mind, his reason has shaken!

Arthur.
Come, Hester Prynne,
Thou who knowest my sin;
Ay, Hester, come in His name,
So terrible, yet in mercy so mild,
Who has granted me grace
At the final hour to proclaim
My wickedness here, and face to face,
The evil so long within bemoaned,
But never owned,
Aloud to speak.
Thy offered strength around me twine;
But let it obey the will divine!
Ah, Hester, I need thee;
For stricken, weary and weak,
Now at the end,
Tho' it be but with steps of a little child,—
Yon scaffold with thee will I ascend.

[He points to the Pillory, taking Hester's hand. The People murmur, but are dazed, and dare not interpose, as Arthur and Hester move towards the Pillory, and mount it. Chillingworth follows them to the steps.
Bellingham.
Some witchcraft, I fear,
Or spirit impure,
His mind doth deceive.
Thou, Father Wilson,
The devil adjure
That in peace our Arthur he leave.

Wilson.
Arthur, Arthur, this magic forsake:
To thy true self awake!

Arthur
(standing with Hester on Pillory).
O people of New England!
Ye still who love me,
And holy have deemed me!
Your pastor behold,
Not as you long have dreamed me,
But, as heaven shines high above me,—
So of all sinners the lowest.
Thou shalt reap as thou sowest!
From falsehood's seed
I garner disgrace:
But, lo, I uproot the shriveled weed,
And the flower of truth blooms here, in its place!
The Scarlet Letter that Hester wears—
Ye have shuddered at, long:
But its lurid ray
Was but as a shadow of that fierce fire
Of smothered wrong
That, night and day,
With flaming despairs
My breast has scarred, and branded my soul!
Her fellow in sin, I have won my desire
And reached my goal;
For I stand now beside her,
The debt of my guilt's confession to pay,
So long denied her.
If any here still
God's judgment deny,
Here now ere I die
Let them witness his will
In the blood-red mark revealed on my breast:
The Scarlet Letter—behold!

[Tears away the ministerial band from before his breast, and sinks backward, supported by Hester.
Chorus.
O wonder! Weird and awful sign!
Saw you the living token
Baleful blazing, over his heart
Tracing its fearful sanguine line?
If truth he has spoken—
Ah, pity accord!
Arthur we praised,
And Hester abhorred:
So far we kept them in thought apart:
Yet now, amazed,
Together we see them brought,
In the chain of justice God hath wrought.

Chill.
(crouching in despair on the Pillory steps).
Thou hast escaped me!
Hadst thou sought the whole world over,
No place or high or lowly
Couldst thou have found
Wherein to baffle me wholly,—
Save this mean scaffold's bound!

Hester.
O Arthur, look not afar from me!
Here close am I, and my love replies
To the light of thine eyes.
Turn thou not away!
Ah, whither, then, does thy spirit stray?

Arthur.
To the land of the fountain unending
Of peace my soul is wending.
Where sorrow ne'er draws breath.
Ay, far to wander we planned,
Dear Hester—thou and I—
To a foreign strand.
But now I voyage beyond the sky—
To that home I seek, the land
Of death!

Hester.
Wait, Arthur! Wait!
For dost thou not remember,
I told thee in the forest
Thou shalt not go alone?
[Arthur sighs, looks at her longingly, then dies.
Ha! Hast thou fled me,—
So swiftly gone?
My dearest one—O soul beloved?
[Takes out from her bosom the poison phial.
Thee, then, I'll follow! The poignant draught
Brewed by our enemy's fateful craft,
Will give me release.
Thou, too, dear Arthur,
Didst from it seek freedom;
And I sought to save thee.
'Twill save me from life:
And sweet to my lips its coldness comes,
As the cool winds that blow
From mountains white forever with snow.
Thou shalt not go alone!

[She drinks the poison and dies.
Chorus.
Hush, hush! Their souls are fled.
Peace unto the dead!
The flower of sacrifice
Blooms in no earthly garden.
Thou, Hester, over us triumph hast won;
Towards mercy turning our sullen hate.
Thou, Arthur, though repenting late,—
May God thee pardon!