III.-THE RECOGNITION.

rom this intense consciousness of being the
object of severe and universal observation,
the wearer of the scarlet letter was at length
relieved, by discerning, on the outskirts of the
crowd, a figure which irresistibly took possession
of her thoughts. An Indian, in his native
garb, was standing there; but the red men were not so infrequent
visitors of the English settlements, that one of them would have
attracted any notice from Hester Prynne, at such a time; much
less would he have excluded all other objects and ideas from
her mind. By the Indian’s side, and evidently sustaining a
companionship with him, stood a white man, clad in a strange
disarray of civilized and savage costume.romHe was small in stature, with a furrowed visage, which, as yet,
could hardly be termed aged. There was a remarkable intelligence
in his features, as of a person who had so cultivated his mental
part that it could not fail to mould the physical to itself, and
become manifest by unmistakable tokens. Although, by a seemingly
careless arrangement of his heterogeneous garb, he had
endeavored to conceal or abate the peculiarity, it was sufficiently
evident to Hester Prynne, that one of this man’s shoulders rose
higher than the other. Again, at the first instant of perceiving
that thin visage, and the slight deformity of the figure, she
pressed her infant to her bosom with so convulsive a force that
the poor babe uttered another cry of pain. But the mother did
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, at first, like a man chiefly accustomed to look
inward, and to whom external matters are of little value and
import, unless they bear relation to something within his mind.
Very soon, however, his look became keen and penetrative. A
writhing horror twisted itself across his features, like a snake
gliding swiftly over them, and making one little pause, with all
its wreathed intervolutions in open sight. His face darkened
with some powerful emotion, which, nevertheless, he so instantaneously
controlled by an effort of his will, that, save at a
single moment, its expression might have passed for calmness.
After a brief space, the convulsion grew almost imperceptible,
and finally subsided into the depths of his nature. When he
found the eyes of Hester Prynne fastened on his own, and saw
that she appeared to recognize him, he slowly and calmly raised
his finger, made a gesture with it in the air, and laid it on his
lips.Then, touching the shoulder of a townsman who stood next
to him, he addressed him, in a formal and courteous manner.“I pray you, good Sir,” said he, “who is this woman?—and
wherefore is she here set up to public shame?”“You must needs be a stranger in this region, friend,” answered
the townsman, looking curiously at the questioner and
his savage companion, “else you would surely have heard of
Mistress Hester Prynne, and her evil doings. She hath raised
a great scandal, I promise you, in godly Master Dimmesdale’s
church.”“You say truly,” replied the other. “I am a stranger, and
have been a wanderer, sorely against my will. I have met with
grievous mishaps by sea 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 be redeemed out of my captivity.
Will it please you, therefore, to tell me of Hester
Prynne’s,—have I her name rightly?—of this woman’s offences,
and what has brought her to yonder scaffold?”“Truly, friend; and methinks it must gladden your heart, after
your troubles and sojourn in the wilderness,” said the townsman,
“to find yourself, at length, in a land where iniquity is searched
out, and punished in the sight of rulers and people; as here in
our godly New England. Yonder woman, Sir, you must know,
was the wife of a certain learned man, English by birth, but who
had long dwelt in Amsterdam, whence, some good time agone,
he was minded to cross over and cast in his lot with us of the
Massachusetts. To this purpose, he sent his wife before him,
remaining himself to look after some necessary affairs. Marry,
good Sir, in some two years, or less, that the woman has been
a dweller here in Boston, no tidings have come of this learned
gentleman, Master Prynne; and his young wife, look you, being
left 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 his books. And who, by your favor, Sir, may be the
father of yonder babe—it is some three or four months old, I
should judge—which Mistress Prynne is holding in her arms?”“Of a truth, friend, that matter remaineth a riddle; and the
Daniel who shall expound it is yet a-wanting,” answered the townsman.
“Madam Hester absolutely refuseth to speak, and the
magistrates have laid their heads together in vain. Peradventure
the guilty one stands looking on at this sad spectacle, unknown
of man, and forgetting that God sees him.”“The learned man,” observed the stranger, with another smile,
“should come himself, to look into the mystery.”“It behooves him well, if he be still in life,” responded the
townsman. “Now, good Sir, our Massachusetts magistracy,
bethinking themselves that this woman is youthful and fair, and
doubtless was strongly 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 bold to put in force the extremity of our
righteous law against her. The penalty thereof is death. But
in their great mercy and tenderness of heart, they have doomed
Mistress Prynne to stand only a space of three hours on the
platform of the pillory, and then and thereafter, for the remainder
of her natural life, to wear a mark of shame upon her bosom.”“A wise sentence!” remarked the stranger, gravely bowing his
head. “Thus she will be a living sermon against sin, until the
ignominious letter be engraved upon her tombstone. It irks me,
nevertheless, that the partner of her iniquity should not, at least,
stand on the scaffold by her side. But he will be known!—he
will be known!—he will be known!”He bowed courteously to the communicative townsman, and,
whispering a few words to his Indian attendant, they both made
their way through the 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 visible world seemed to vanish, leaving only him and her.
Such an interview, perhaps, would have been more terrible than
even to meet him as she now did, with the hot, mid-day sun
burning down upon her face, and lighting 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 forth as to a
festival, staring at the features that should have been seen only
in the quiet gleam of the fireside, in the happy shadow of a
home, or beneath a matronly veil, at church. Dreadful as it
was, she was conscious of a shelter in the presence of these
thousand witnesses. It was better to stand thus, with so many
betwixt him and her, than to greet him, face to face, they two
alone. She fled for refuge, as it were, to the public exposure,
and dreaded the moment when its protection should be withdrawn
from her. Involved in these thoughts, she scarcely heard
a voice behind her, until it had repeated her name more than
once, in a loud and solemn tone, audible to the whole multitude.“Hearken unto me, Hester Prynne!” said the voice.It has already been noticed, that directly over the platform
on which Hester Prynne stood was a kind of balcony, or open
gallery, appended to the meeting-house. It was the place whence
proclamations were wont to be made, amidst an assemblage of
the magistracy, with all the ceremonial that attended such public
observances in those days. Here, to witness the scene which
we are describing, sat Governor Bellingham himself, with four
sergeants about his chair, bearing halberds, as a guard of honor.
He wore a dark feather in his hat, a border of embroidery on
his cloak, and a black velvet tunic beneath; a gentleman advanced
in years, with a hard experience written in his wrinkles.
He was not ill fitted to be the head and representative of a community,
which owed its origin and progress, and its present
state of development, not to the impulses of youth, but to the
stern and tempered energies of manhood, and the sombre sagacity
of age; accomplishing so much, precisely because it imagined
and hoped so little. The other eminent characters, by whom
the chief ruler was surrounded, were distinguished by a dignity
of mien, belonging to a period when the forms of authority were
felt to possess the sacredness of Divine institutions. They were,
doubtless, good men, just and sage. But, out of the whole
human family, it would not have been easy to select the same
number of wise and virtuous persons, who should be less capable
of sitting in judgment on an erring woman’s heart, and disentangling
its mesh of good and evil, than the sages of rigid aspect
towards whom Hester Prynne now turned her face. She seemed
conscious, indeed, that whatever sympathy she might expect lay
in the larger and warmer heart of the multitude; for, as she
lifted her eyes towards the balcony, the unhappy woman grew
pale and trembled.The voice which had called her attention was that of the
reverend and famous John Wilson, the eldest clergyman of Boston,
a great scholar, like most of his contemporaries in the profession,
and withal a man of kind and genial spirit. This last
attribute, however, had been less carefully developed than his
intellectual gifts, and was, in truth, rather a matter of shame
than self-congratulation with him. There he stood, with a border
of grizzled locks beneath his skull-cap; while his gray eyes,
accustomed to the shaded light of his study, were winking, like
those of Hester’s infant, in the unadulterated sunshine. He looked
like the darkly engraved portraits which we see prefixed to old
volumes of sermons; and had no more right than one of those
portraits would have, to step forth, as he now did, and meddle
with a question of human guilt, passion, and anguish.“Hester Prynne,” said the clergyman, “I have striven with
my young brother here, under whose preaching of the word you
have been privileged to sit,”—here Mr. Wilson laid his hand
on the shoulder of a pale young man beside him,—“I have
sought, I say, to persuade this godly 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 the people, as touching
the vileness and blackness of your sin. Knowing your natural
temper better than I, he could the better judge what arguments
to use, whether of tenderness or terror, such as might prevail
over your hardness and obstinacy; insomuch that you should
no longer hide the name of him who tempted you to this grievous
fall. But he opposes to me (with a young man’s over-softness,
albeit wise beyond his years), that it were wronging the
very nature of woman to force her to lay open her heart’s secrets
in such broad daylight, and in presence 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 of it forth. What
say you to it, once again, Brother Dimmesdale? Must it be
thou, or I, that shall deal with this poor sinner’s soul?”There was a murmur among the dignified and reverend occupants
of the balcony; and Governor Bellingham gave expression
to its purport, speaking in an authoritative voice, although tempered
with respect towards the youthful clergyman whom he
addressed.“Good Master Dimmesdale,” said he, “the responsibility of
this woman’s soul lies greatly with you. It behooves you, therefore,
to exhort her to repentance, and to confession, as a proof
and consequence thereof.”The directness of this appeal drew the eyes of the whole crowd
upon the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale; a young clergyman, who
had come from one of the great English universities, bringing
all the learning of the age into our wild forest-land. His eloquence
and religious fervor had already given the earnest of
high eminence in his profession. He was a person of very striking
aspect, with a white, lofty, and impending brow, large brown,
melancholy eyes, and a mouth which, unless when he forcibly
compressed it, was apt to be tremulous, expressing both nervous
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, a startled, a
half-frightened look,—as of a being who felt himself quite
astray and at a loss in the pathway of human existence, and
could only be at ease in some seclusion of his own. Therefore,
so far as his duties would permit, he trod in the shadowy by-paths,
and thus kept himself simple and childlike; coming forth,
when occasion was, with a freshness, and fragrance, and dewy
purity of thought, which, as many people said, affected them
like the speech of an angel.Such was the young man whom the Reverend Mr. Wilson
and the Governor had introduced so openly to the public notice,
bidding him speak, in the hearing of all men, to that mystery
of a woman’s soul, so sacred even in its pollution. The trying
nature of his position drove the blood from his cheek, and made
his lips tremulous.“Speak to the woman, my brother,” said Mr. Wilson. “It
is of moment to her soul, and therefore, as the worshipful Governor
says, momentous to thine own, in whose charge hers is.
Exhort her to confess the truth!”The Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale bent his head, in silent prayer,
as it seemed, and then came forward.“Hester Prynne,” said he, leaning over the balcony and looking
down steadfastly into her eyes, “thou hearest what this good
man says, and seest the accountability under which I labor. If
thou feelest it to be for thy soul’s peace, and that thy earthly
punishment will thereby be made more effectual to salvation, I
charge thee to speak out the name of thy fellow-sinner and fellow-sufferer!
Be not silent from any mistaken pity and tenderness
for him; for, believe me, Hester, though he 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 guilty heart through
life. What can thy silence do for him, except it tempt him—yea,
compel him, as it were—to add hypocrisy to sin? Heaven
hath granted thee an open ignominy, that thereby thou mayest
work out an open triumph over the evil within thee, and the
sorrow without. Take heed how thou deniest to him—who,
perchance, hath not the courage to grasp it for himself—the
bitter, but wholesome, cup that is now presented to thy lips!”The young pastor’s voice was tremulously sweet, rich, deep,
and broken. The feeling that it so evidently manifested, rather
than the direct purport of the words, caused it to vibrate within
all hearts, and brought the listeners into one accord of sympathy.
Even the poor baby, at Hester’s bosom, was affected by
the same influence; for it directed its hitherto vacant gaze
towards Mr. Dimmesdale, and held up its little arms, with a
half-pleased, half-plaintive murmur. So powerful seemed the
minister’s appeal, that the people could not believe but that
Hester Prynne would speak out the guilty name; or else that
the guilty one himself, in whatever high or lowly place he stood,
would be drawn forth by an inward and inevitable necessity,
and compelled to ascend to the scaffold.Hester shook her head.“Woman, transgress not beyond the limits of Heaven’s
mercy!” cried the Reverend Mr. Wilson, more harshly than
before. “That little babe hath been gifted with a voice, to second
and confirm the counsel which thou hast heard. Speak out
the name! That, and thy repentance, may avail to take the
scarlet letter off thy breast.”“Never!” replied Hester Prynne, looking, not at Mr. Wilson,
but into the deep and troubled eyes of the younger clergyman.
“It is too deeply branded. Ye cannot take it off. And
would that I might endure his agony, as well as mine!”“Speak, woman!” said another voice, coldly and sternly,
proceeding from the crowd about the scaffold. “Speak; and
give your child a father!”

“I will not speak!” answered Hester, turning pale as death,
but responding to this voice, which she too surely recognized.
“And my child must seek a heavenly Father; she shall never
know an earthly one!”
“She will not speak!” murmured Mr. Dimmesdale, who,
leaning over the balcony, with his hand upon his heart, had
awaited the result of his appeal. He now drew back, with a
long respiration. “Wondrous strength and generosity of a woman’s
heart! She will not speak!”
Discerning the impracticable state of the poor culprit’s mind,
the elder 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 forcibly did he dwell upon this symbol, for the hour
or more during which his periods were rolling over the people’s
heads, that it
assumed new
terrors in
their imagination,
and
seemed to derive
its scarlet
hue from
the flames of
the infernal pit. Hester
Prynne, meanwhile,
kept her place upon the
pedestal of shame, with
glazed eyes, and an air
of weary indifference.
She had borne, that
morning, all that nature
could endure; and as
her temperament was
not of the order that
escapes from too intense suffering by a swoon, her spirit could
only shelter itself beneath a stony crust of insensibility, while
the faculties of animal life remained entire. In this state, the
voice of the preacher thundered remorselessly, but unavailingly,
upon her ears. The infant, during the latter portion of her
ordeal, pierced the air with its wailings and screams; she strove
to hush it, mechanically, but seemed scarcely to sympathize with
its trouble. With the same hard demeanor, she was led back to
prison, and vanished from the public gaze within its iron-clamped
portal. It was whispered, by those who peered after her, that
the scarlet letter threw a lurid gleam along the dark passage-way
of the interior.
“I will not speak!” answered Hester, turning pale as death,
but responding to this voice, which she too surely recognized.
“And my child must seek a heavenly Father; she shall never
know an earthly one!”“She will not speak!” murmured Mr. Dimmesdale, who,
leaning over the balcony, with his hand upon his heart, had
awaited the result of his appeal. He now drew back, with a
long respiration. “Wondrous strength and generosity of a woman’s
heart! She will not speak!”Discerning the impracticable state of the poor culprit’s mind,
the elder 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 forcibly did he dwell upon this symbol, for the hour
or more during which his periods were rolling over the people’s
heads, that it
assumed new
terrors in
their imagination,
and
seemed to derive
its scarlet
hue from
the flames of
the infernal pit. Hester
Prynne, meanwhile,
kept her place upon the
pedestal of shame, with
glazed eyes, and an air
of weary indifference.
She had borne, that
morning, all that nature
could endure; and as
her temperament was
not of the order that
escapes from too intense suffering by a swoon, her spirit could
only shelter itself beneath a stony crust of insensibility, while
the faculties of animal life remained entire. In this state, the
voice of the preacher thundered remorselessly, but unavailingly,
upon her ears. The infant, during the latter portion of her
ordeal, pierced the air with its wailings and screams; she strove
to hush it, mechanically, but seemed scarcely to sympathize with
its trouble. With the same hard demeanor, she was led back to
prison, and vanished from the public gaze within its iron-clamped
portal. It was whispered, by those who peered after her, that
the scarlet letter threw a lurid gleam along the dark passage-way
of the interior.