SMALL | MEDIUM
to arrange their thoughts in reference to the foregoing
scene, there was more than one account of what had
been witnessed on the scaffold.
Most of the spectators testified to having seen, on the
breast of the unhappy minister, a SCARLET LETTER --
the very semblance of that worn by Hester Prynne --
imprinted in the flesh. As regarded its origin, there
were various explanations, all of which must necessa-
rily have been conjectural. Some affirmed that the
Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale, on the very day when
Hester Prynne first wore her ignominious badge, had
begun a course of penance, -- which he afterwards, in
so many futile methods, followed out, -- by inflicting a
hideous torture on himself. Others contended that the
stigma had not been produced until a long time subse-
quent, when old Roger Chillingworth, being a potent
necromancer, had caused it to appear, through the
agency of magic and poisonous drugs. Others, again,
-- and those best able to appreciate the minister's
peculiar sensibility, and the wonderful operation of his
spirit upon the body, -- whispered their belief, that the
awful symbol was the effect of the ever active tooth of
It is singular, nevertheless, that certain persons, who
were spectators of the whole scene, and professed
never once to have removed their eyes from the Rev-
erend Mr. Dimmesdale, denied that there was any mark
whatever on his breast, more than on a new-born
infant's. Neither, by their report, had his dying words
acknowledged, nor even remotely implied, any, the
slightest connection, on his part, with the guilt for
which Hester Prynne had so long worn the scarlet
letter. According to these highly respectable witnesses,
the minister, conscious that he was dying, -- conscious,
also, that the reverence of the multitude placed him
already among saints and angels, -- had desired, by
yielding up his breath in the arms of that fallen woman,
to express to the world how utterly nugatory is the
choicest of man's own righteousness. After exhaust-
ing life in his efforts for mankind's spiritual good, he
had made the manner of his death a parable, in order
to impress on his admirers the mighty and mournful
lesson, that, in the view of Infinite Purity, we are sin-
ners all alike. It was to teach them, that the holiest
among us has but attained so far above his fellows as
to discern more clearly the Mercy which looks down,
The authority which we have chiefly followed -- a
manuscript of old date, drawn up from the verbal testi-
mony of individuals, some of whom had known Hester
Prynne, while others had heard the tale from contem-
porary witnesses -- fully confirms the view taken in
the foregoing pages. Among many morals which
press upon us from the poor minister's miserable ex-
perience, we put only this into a sentence: -- "Be
true! Be true! Be true! Show freely to the world,
if not your worst, yet some trait whereby the worst
may be inferred!"
Nothing was more remarkable than the change which
took place, almost immediately after Mr. Dimmesdale's
death, in the appearance and demeanour of the old man
known as Roger Chillingworth. All his strength and
energy -- all his vital and intellectual force -- seemed
at once to desert him; insomuch that he positively
withered up, shrivelled away, and almost vanished from
mortal sight, like an uprooted weed that lies wilting in
the sun. This unhappy man had made the very prin-
ciple of his life to consist in the pursuit and systematic
exercise of revenge; and when, by its completest tri-
Leaving this discussion apart, we have a matter of
business to communicate to the reader. At old Roger
Chillingworth's decease (which took place within the
year), and by his last will and testament, of which
Governor Bellingham and the Reverend Mr. Wilson
were executors, he bequeathed a very considerable
So Pearl -- the elf-child, -- the demon offspring, as
some people, up to that epoch, persisted in considering
her -- became the richest heiress of her day, in the New
World. Not improbably, this circumstance wrought
a very material change in the public estimation; and,
had the mother and child remained here, little Pearl, at
a marriageable period of life, might have mingled her
wild blood with the lineage of the devoutest Puritan
among them all. But, in no long time after the physi-
cian's death, the wearer of the scarlet letter disap-
peared, and Pearl along with her. For many years,
though a vague report would now and then find its way
across the sea, -- like a shapeless piece of driftwood tost
ashore, with the initials of a name upon it, -- yet no
tidings of them unquestionably authentic were re-
ceived. The story of the scarlet letter grew into a
legend. Its spell, however, was still potent, and kept
the scaffold awful where the poor minister had died,
and likewise the cottage by the sea-shore, where Hester
Prynne had dwelt. Near this latter spot, one after-
noon, some children were at play, when they beheld a
tall woman, in a gray robe, approach the cottage-door.
In all those years it had never once been opened; but
either she unlocked it, or the decaying wood and iron
yielded to her hand, or she glided shadow-like through
these impediments, -- and, at all events, went in.
On the threshold she paused, -- turned partly round,
-- for, perchance, the idea of entering, all alone, and
And Hester Prynne had returned, and taken up her
long-forsaken shame. But where was little Pearl? If
still alive, she must now have been in the flush and
bloom of early womanhood. None knew -- nor ever
learned, with the fulness of perfect certainty -- whether
the elf-child had gone thus untimely to a maiden grave;
or whether her wild, rich nature had been softened and
subdued, and made capable of a woman's gentle hap-
piness. But, through the remainder of Hester's life,
there were indications that the recluse of the scarlet
letter was the object of love and interest with some in-
habitant of another land. Letters came, with armorial
seals upon them, though of bearings unknown to Eng-
lish heraldry. In the cottage there were articles of
comfort and luxury, such as Hester never cared to use,
but which only wealth could have purchased, and affec-
tion have imagined for her. There were trifles, too,
little ornaments, beautiful tokens of a continual re-
membrance, that must have been wrought by delicate
fingers, at the impulse of a fond heart. And, once,
Hester was seen embroidering a baby-garment, with
such a lavish richness of golden fancy as would have
raised a public tumult, had any infant, thus apparelled,
been shown to our sobre-hued community.
In fine, the gossips of that day believed, -- and Mr.
But there was a more real life for Hester Prynne,
here, in New England, than in that unknown region
where Pearl had found a home. Here had been her
sin; here, her sorrow; and here was yet to be her pen-
itence. She had returned, therefore, and resumed, --
of her own free will, for not the sternest magistrate of
that iron period would have imposed it, -- resumed the
symbol of which we have related so dark a tale.
Never afterwards did it quit her bosom. But, in the
lapse of the toilsome, thoughtful, and self-devoted
years that made up Hester's life, the scarlet letter
ceased to be a stigma which attracted the world's scorn
and bitterness, and became a type of something to be
sorrowed over, and looked upon with awe, yet with
reverence too. And, as Hester Prynne had no selfish
ends, nor lived in any measure for her own profit
and enjoyment, people brought all their sorrows and
perplexities, and besought her counsel, as one who
had herself gone through a mighty trouble. Women,
more especially, -- in the continually recurring trials of
wounded, wasted, wronged, misplaced, or erring and
sinful passion, -- or with the dreary burden of a heart
unyielded, because unvalued and unsought, -- came to
Hester's cottage, demanding why they were so wretch-
So said Hester Prynne, and glanced her sad eyes
downward at the scarlet letter. And, after many,
many years, a new grave was delved, near an old and
sunken one, in that burial-ground beside which King's
Chapel has since been built. It was near that old and
sunken grave, yet with a space between, as if the dust
of the two sleepers had no right to mingle. Yet
one tombstone served for both. All around, there
were monuments carved with armorial bearings; and
on this simple slab of slate -- as the curious inves-
tigator may still discern, and perplex himself with
the purport -- there appeared the semblance of an en-
"
On A field, sable, the letter A, gules."