Nathaniel Hawthorne/Nathaniel Hawthorne.iso/pc/articles/a1/t0020

Text File | 1998-01-06 | 12.7 KB | 192 lines

                                                      XVIII                                                  227
                                        A Flood of Sunshine

ARTHUR DIMMESDALE gazed into Hester's face with a look in which
hope and joy shone out, indeed, but with fear betwixt them, and a kind of
horror at her boldness, who had spoken what he vaguely hinted at, but
dared not speak.
     But Hester Prynne, with a mind of native courage and activity, and for
so long a period not merely estranged, but outlawed, from society, had
habituated herself to such latitude of speculation as was altogether foreign to
the clergyman. She had wandered, without rule or guidance, in a moral
wilderness; as vast, as intricate and shadowy, as the untamed forest, amid
the gloom of which they were now holding a colloquy that was to decide
their fate. Her intellect and heart had their home, as it were, in desert places,
where she roamed as freely as the wild Indian in his woods. For years past
she had looked from this estranged point of view at human institutions, and
whatever priests or legislators had established; criticizing all with hardly
more reverence than the Indian would feel for the clerical band, the judicial
robe, the pillory, the gallows, the fireside, or the church. The tendency of
her fate and fortunes had been to set her free. The scarlet letter was her
passport into regions where other women dared not tread. Shame, Despair,
Solitude! These had been her teachers,--stern and wild ones,--and they had
made her strong, but taught her much amiss.
     The minister, on the other hand, had never gone through an experience
calculated to lead him beyond the scope of generally received laws;
although, in a single instance, he had so fearfully transgressed one of the
                The Scarlet Letter -- XVIII. A Flood of Sunshine              228

most sacred of them. But this had been a sin of passion, not of principle,
nor even purpose. Since that wretched epoch, he had watched, with morbid
zeal and minuteness, not his acts,--for those it was easy to arrange,--but
each breath of emotion, and his every thought. At the head of the social
system, as the clergymen of that day stood, he was only the more
trammelled by its regulations, its principles, and even its prejudices. As a
priest, the framework of his order inevitably hemmed him in. As a man who
had once sinned, but who kept his conscience all alive and painfully
sensitive by the fretting of an unhealed wound, he might have been
supposed safer within the line of virtue, than if he had never sinned at all.
     Thus, we seem to see that, as regarded Hester Prynne, the whole seven
years of outlaw and ignominy had been little other than a preparation for this
very hour. But Arthur Dimmesdale! Were such a man once more to fall,
what plea could be urged in extenuation of his crime? None; unless it avail
him somewhat, that he was broken down by long and exquisite suffering;
that his mind was darkened and confused by the very remorse which
harrowed it; that, between fleeing as an avowed criminal, and remaining as
a hypocrite, conscience might find it hard to strike the balance; that it was
human to avoid the peril of death and infamy, and the inscrutable
machinations of an enemy; that, finally, to this poor pilgrim, on his dreary
and desert path, faint, sick, miserable, there appeared a glimpse of human
affection and sympathy, a new life, and a true one, in exchange for the
heavy doom which he was now expiating. And be the stern and sad truth
spoken, that the breach which guilt has once made into the human soul is
                The Scarlet Letter -- XVIII. A Flood of Sunshine              229

never, in this mortal state, repaired. It may be watched and guarded; so that
the enemy shall not force his way again into the citadel, and might even, in
his subsequent assaults, select some other avenue, in preference to that
where he had formerly succeeded. But there is still the ruined wall, and,
near it, the stealthy tread of the foe that would win over again his
unforgotten triumph.
     The struggle, if there were one, need not be described. Let it suffice, that
the clergyman resolved to flee, and not alone.
     "If, in all these past seven years," thought he, "I could recall one instant
of peace or hope, I would yet endure, for the sake of that earnest of
Heaven's mercy. But now,--since I am irrevocably doomed,--wherefore
should I not snatch the solace allowed to the condemned culprit before his
execution? Or, if this be the path to a better life, as Hester would persuade
me, I surely give up no fairer prospect by pursuing it! Neither can I any
longer live without her companionship; so powerful is she to sustain,--so
tender to soothe! O Thou to whom I dare not lift mine eyes, wilt Thou yet
pardon me!"
     "Thou wilt go!" said Hester calmly, as he met her glance.
     The decision once made, a glow of strange enjoyment threw its
flickering brightness over the trouble of his breast. It was the exhilarating
effect--upon a prisoner just escaped from the dungeon of his own heart--of
breathing the wild, free atmosphere of an unreedeemed, unchristianized,
lawless region. His spirit rose, as it were, with a bound, and attained a
nearer prospect of the sky, than throughout all the misery which had kept
                The Scarlet Letter -- XVIII. A Flood of Sunshine              230

him grovelling on the earth. Of a deeply religious temperament, there was
inevitably a tinge of the devotional in his mood.
     "Do I feel joy again?" cried he, wondering at himself. "Methought the
germ of it was dead in me! O Hester, thou art my better angel! I seem to
have flung myself--sick, sin-stained, and sorrow-blackened--down upon
these forest-leaves, and to have risen up all made anew, and with new
powers to glorify Him that hath been merciful! This is already the better life!
Why did we not find it sooner?"
     "Let us not look back," answered Hester Prynne. "The past is gone!
Wherefore should we linger upon it now? See! With this symbol, I undo it
all, and make it as it had never been!"
     So speaking, she undid the clasp that fastened the scarlet letter, and,
taking it from her bosom, threw it to a distance among the withered leaves.
The mystic token alighted on the hither verge of the stream. With a hand's
breadth farther flight it would have fallen into the water, and have given the
little brook another woe to carry onward, besides the unintelligible tale
which it still kept murmuring about. But there lay the embroidered letter,
glittering like a lost jewel, which some ill-fated wanderer might pick up, and
thenceforth be haunted by strange phantoms of guilt, sinkings of the heart,
and unaccountable misfortune.
     The stigma gone, Hester heaved a long, deep sigh, in which the burden
of shame and anguish departed from her spirit. O exquisite relief! She had
not known the weight, until she felt the freedom! By another impulse, she
took off the formal cap that confined her hair; and down it fell upon her
                The Scarlet Letter -- XVIII. A Flood of Sunshine              231

shoulders, dark and rich, with at once a shadow and a light in its
abundance, and imparting the charm of softness to her features. There
played around her mouth, and beamed out of her eyes, a radiant and tender
smile, that seemed gushing from the very heart of womanhood. A crimson
flush was glowing on her cheek, that had been long so pale. Her sex, her
youth, and the whole richness of her beauty, came back from what men call
the irrevocable past, and clustered themselves, with her maiden hope, and a
happiness before unknown, within the magic circle of this hour. And, as if
the gloom of the earth and sky had been but the effluence of these two
mortal hearts, it vanished with their sorrow. All at once, as with a sudden
smile of heaven, forth burst the sunshine, pouring a very flood into the
obscure forest, gladdening each green leaf, transmitting the yellow fallen
ones to gold, and gleaming adown the gray thinks of the solemn trees. The
objects that had made a shadow hitherto, embodied the brightness now. The
course of the little brook might be traced by its merry gleam afar into the
wood's heart of mystery, which had become a mystery of joy.
     Such was the sympathy of Nature--that wild, heathen Nature of the
forest, never subjugated by human law, nor illumined by higher truth--with
the bliss of these two spirits! Love, whether newly born, or aroused from a
deathlike slumber, must always create a sunshine, filling the heart so full of
radiance, that it overflows upon the outward world. Had the forest still kept
its gloom, it would have been bright in Hester's eyes, and bright in Arthur
Dimmesdale's!
     Hester looked at him with the thrill of another joy.
                The Scarlet Letter -- XVIII. A Flood of Sunshine              232

     "Thou must know Pearl!" said she. "Our little Pearl! Thou hast seen
her,--yes, I know it!--but thou wilt see her now with other eyes. She is a
strange child! I hardly comprehend her! But thou wilt love her dearly, as I
do, and wilt advise me how to deal with her."
     "Dost thou think the child will be glad to know me?" asked the minister,
somewhat uneasily. "I have long shrunk from children, because they often
show a distrust,--a backwardness to be familiar with me. I have even been
afraid of little Pearl!"
     "Ah, that was sad!" answered the mother. "But she will love thee dearly,
and thou her. She is not far off. I will call her! Pearl! Pearl!"
     "I see the child," observed the minister. "Yonder she is, standing in a
streak of sunshine, a good way off, on the other side of the brook. So thou
thinkest the child will love me?"
     Hester smiled, and again called to Pearl, who was visible, at some
distance, as the minister had described her, like a bright-appareled vision, in
a sunbeam, which fell down upon her through an arch of boughs. The ray
quivered to and fro, making her figure dim or distinct,--now like a real
child, now like a child's spirit,--as the splendor went and came again. She
heard her mother's voice, and approached slowly through the forest.
     Pearl had not found the hour pass wearisomely, while her mother sat
talking with the clergyman. The great black forest--stern as it showed itself
to those who brought the guilt and troubles of the world into its bosom--
became the playmate of the lonely infant, as well as it knew how. Sombre
as it was, it put on the kindest of its moods to welcome her. It offered her
                The Scarlet Letter -- XVIII. A Flood of Sunshine              233

the partridge-berries, the growth of the preceding autumn, but ripening only
in the spring, and now red as drops of blood upon the withered leaves.
These Pearl gathered, and was pleased with their wild flavor. The small
denizens of the wilderness hardly took pains to move out of her path. A
partridge, indeed, with a brood of ten behind her, ran forward
threateningly, but soon repented of her fierceness, and clucked to her young
ones not to be afraid. A pigeon, alone on a low branch, allowed Pearl to
come beneath, and uttered a sound as much of greeting as alarm. A squirrel,
from the lofty depths of his domestic tree, chattered either in anger or
merriment,--for a squirrel is such a choleric and humorous little personage
that it is hard to distinguish between his moods,--so he chattered at the
child, and flung down a nut upon her head. It was a last year's nut, and
already gnawed by his sharp tooth. A fox, startled from his sleep by her
light footstep on the leaves, looked inquisitively at Pearl, as doubting
whether it were better to steal off, or renew his nap on the same spot. A
wolf, it is said,--but here the tale has surely lapsed into the improbable,--
came up, and smelt of Pearl's robe, and offered his savage head to be patted
by her hand. The truth seems to be, however, that the mother-forest, and
these wild things which it nourished, all recognized a kindred wildness in
the human child.
     And she was gentler here than in the grassy-margined streets of the
settlement, or in her mother's cottage. The flowers appeared to know it; and
one and another whispered, as she passed, "Adorn thyself with me, thou
beautiful child, adorn thyself with me!"--and, to please them, Pearl gathered
                The Scarlet Letter -- XVIII. A Flood of Sunshine              234

the violets, and anemones, and columbines, and some twigs of the freshest
green, which the old trees held down before her eyes. With these she
decorated her hair, and her young waist, and became a nymph-child, or an
infant dryad, or whatever else was in closest sympathy with the antique
wood. In such guise had Pearl adorned herself, when she heard her
mother's voice, and came slowly back.
     Slowly; for she saw the clergyman!