Chapter 7

Chillingworth, alone._

_Roger._ The fox that robbed my roost is sly; he keeps The cover warily; and, now the scent Is cold, the curs that yelp in scandal's pack Bay loud on many faults, but cannot trace him.

_Enter DIGGORY._

_Diggory._ Doctor, the Governor will join you presently.

_Roger._ Diggory, I will await him patiently. [_Sits._

_Diggory retires, then returns._

_Diggory._ Doctor, may I beg a word with you?

_Roger._ A thousand if you will.

_Diggory._ I would speak in confidence.

_Roger._ The manner would become thee, Diggory. But speak, man! Say on.

_Diggory._ I need a philter, Doctor. For the love of mercy--

_Roger._ For the love of good liquor, Diggory, thou shalt have twenty filters. Still decanting?

_Diggory._ O, sir! not that kind of filter. I'm in love!

_Roger._ Ah! thou art in love? In love didst thou say?

_Diggory._ Aye, sir, if it please you.

_Roger._ It pleases me well enough; how doth it please the lady?

_Diggory._ She's not a lady, sir, thank God! she's but a simple maiden, and it pleaseth her not.

_Roger._ A simple maid refuses you! Ah! Diggory, Diggory, be thankful for the good things God hath sent thee.

_Diggory._ Truly, sir, I thank Him ev'ry day; but, sir, as I do desire the maiden--I--I--would have her too.

_Roger._ And so, Diggory, thou wouldst have me aid thee in this folly, and give thee a love potion?

_Diggory._ Aye, sir, begging your honor's pardon.

_Roger._ But why dost thou ask me, Diggory? Dost thou take me for an herb-doctor, or a necromancer, or what?

_Diggory._ My master, the Governor, says you are a very learned man, a what-you-call-'em--a scientist; and a scientist can do anything.

_Roger._ Humph!--Diggory, I do not deal in philters; they are out of date--but I know a charm will win her love.

_Diggory._ Tell it me for the love of--

_Roger._ Thou wilt betray it, Diggory.

_Diggory._ Never! Never!

_Roger._ Omit thou but a word of it, and the maiden's lost to thee--but con it well, and all her beauties will be thine.

_Diggory._ Oh! Doctor!

_Roger._ Take of the rendered grease of three black bears--do not fail in that--anoint thy curly locks--

_Diggory._ My hair is straight.

_Roger._ Never mind--but rub; and, as thou dost, repeat these words:

_Lady love, lady love, where e'er thou be, Think of no man but only me; Love me, and wed me, and call me thine own, Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling, Joan._

_Diggory._ What is that "Ting-a-ling, ting-a-ling"?

_Roger._ That is the chief element of the charm--don't forget it. Having done this on nine successive days--dost thou follow me?

_Diggory._ Aye, sir.

_Roger._ On the tenth go to the barber's and have thy hair cut short.

_Diggory._ But, sir, my hair is my best feature!

_Roger._ It is with many; cut it, however, or lose the worth of all of the charm. Dost thou hear, Diggory? Cut thy hair short or never win fair woman. Farewell.

_Diggory._ I thank you, sir. [_Going_] "Lady love, ting-a-ling"--nay, that's not it.

_Roger._ Diggory!

_Diggory._ Yes, sir.

_Roger._ Who are with the Governor?

_Diggory._ The worthy ministers, Master Wilson and Master Dimsdell.

_Roger._ Very well. [_Exit Diggory, trying to recall the verse._ Ah! Diggory, thou art but a dram of love in a fluid ounce of fool! And so may we label all mankind. For instance: the Governor is a wise man and a politic; Wilson a good man and a pious; Dimsdell--ah! there I pause, for what fine formula can sum the qualities of that same Arthur Dimsdell? He's not a fool; nor mad; nor truly cataleptic--yet he's moody, falls in trance, and I suspect his power as a preacher comes from ecstasy. Something he is akin to genius--yet he hath it not, for though his aim be true enough, he often flashes in the pan when genius would have hit the mark. I'll write his case in Latin! What a study that would be if I could first find out the reason why he clutches at his breast!--If once I find him in a trance, alone--ah! here they come.

_Enter GOVERNOR BELLINGHAM, REV. JOHN WILSON, REV. ARTHUR DIMSDELL, and following them, with a tray of wine, DIGGORY._

_Wilson._ Good morrow, Doctor.

_Roger._ Good morning, gentlemen.

_Governor._ [_To Diggory._] Leave the wine within the summer house. Good morning, Doctor. When Mistress Prynne doth come conduct her hither.

_Diggory._ Sir, she's coming this way now.

_Governor._ Very well. Go. [_Exit Diggory._] Doctor, we debate what disposition should be made of Hester Prynne's young child. We ask your aid--but here she is.

_Enter HESTER PRYNNE._

_Hester._ Your worship hath been pleased to summon me To bring my child before you.

_Governor._ Where is the child?

_Hester._ The babe is sick but answers by attorney. What is your will?

_Governor._ Some pious matrons, Hester, Have charged that thou art not a person fit To rear that infant immortality, And guide it unto God.

_Hester._ God gave the child In rich exchange for all things else which I, Poor sinful I, had forfeited; and now You, who have made yourselves the flails of God, Would separate the wheat from chaff before The grain is ripe, and take her from me. Oh! ye are wise! No doubt ye see beyond The purpose of Almighty God who gave The child to me!

_Governor._ Nay, take it not to heart, For, Hester, duty to the child we owe To put its soul upon the way that leads To Heaven. She will be cared for tenderly.

_Hester._ She is the last small link that binds my soul To earth, the tiny needle that doth point My way to Heaven. You shall not take her from me! Speak thou for me [_To Dimsdell_]; as my pastor speak; Speak now; and say if any harm from me Will hurt the child. I will not part with her! Say if thou canst, for thou hast sympathies Which these men lack, say what the mother's rights Are in her child; and what those rights must be When naught beside the child is left to her-- Her husband gone, her friends deserted, No reputation, no sympathy, no love-- But only those twin brands of shame, her baby And The Scarlet Letter!

_Dimsdell._ I have a dual duty to discharge; I am this woman's pastor--and her friend, And therefore she hath called me to defend her; I am, beside, a member of your council, And hence am with you in your consultation; And yet, I think, these duties may be made To yoke and draw me to a just conclusion.

_Wilson._ Thou also hast a duty to the child.

_Dimsdell._ Aye, so I have. Our aim is well enough, But let us pause before we do adopt A means that varies from the one marked out By God and Nature.

_Governor._ Is there not command To teach our children in the fear of God And guide them from impurity?

_Dimsdell._ God gave us mothers when He gave us life, And to their tender care He did entrust The mortal and immortal parts of us. What then? Would we improve upon His system; Would we now deprive this little one Of that fond mother-care which nurtures her? Or would we put, in place of mother-love, The cold, hard, formal training of a paid Instructor?

_Governor._ But is this woman, stained with sin, A mother to entrust a child to?

_Dimsdell._ That question God hath answered; and we know The stain of sin doth fade beneath the bleach Of true repentance; through it all appears The woven figure of the woman-fabric-- Her motherhood! We owe our lives to woman's suffering, We owe our health unto her temperance, We owe her all the best of us. Let God Condemn her sin, but let us not presume To punish her where He hath healed her heart.

_Wilson._ There is weight in what he says.

_Roger._ Yea, and earnestness!

_Governor._ Well, Hester, go thy way; the child is thine. Remember thou dost owe a gentle thanks Unto this pious man. Go, Hester, keep The child. Think well upon his words; be thou A mother in all righteousness, as well As in thy sin. Farewell.

_Hester._ I thank you, gentlemen. [_Exit._

_Wilson._ That woman would have been a noble wife Had not some villain robbed her of her dower.

_Governor._ Come, gentlemen, this business well is ended, And, Dimsdell, yours is all the credit of it; For one I thank you.

_Roger._ We all do thank you, sir.

_Governor._ Come, let us drain a cup of wine; and then Go in.

_Dimsdell._ I beg you to excuse me.

_Roger._ And me, I pray. I'll stay with Dimsdell.

_Governor._ Well, Wilson, you Shall not escape me. Gentlemen, the wine We leave you; keep it company.--And, Dimsdell, Forget it not, to-morrow thou must preach A grand election sermon. The people do Expect a master effort, man. Fail not. [_Exeunt Governor and Wilson._

_Roger._ He will not fail them, Governor; a tongue Of flame is his. What ails thee, Dimsdell? How now? Why man!

_Dimsdell._ I'm very weak. The pain about my heart--

_Roger._ Nay, courage, man! 'Twill leave thee soon. I'll get a cup of wine to cheer thee up.

_Dimsdell._ Do, I pray. And, Doctor, give me something to abate this agony.

_Roger._ I will. [_Exit._

_Dimsdell._ Try how I may, there's no escape from pain. I robbed the law's strong arm, and thereby put The lash in conscience' hand--and yet I thought Hypocrisy a duty to my calling! 'Twere better I were known as what I am, Than still to hide my sin beneath the garb Of outward purity! 'Twere better now, By Hester's side, to bear opprobrium, And brave what man may do, than still to nurse This misery in secret!

_Re-enter ROGER with wine-tray; places it upon a bench and, taking a vial from a pocket medicine-case, pours a few drops into a wine-glass, then fills the glass with wine._

_Roger._ A minim more would lull him into sleep. Here is the chance--and here the will--to learn His secret malady. What holds me back? Conscience? Tut, tut! It will not harm him! 'Twill do him good to sleep; 'twill do me good To know the why he clutches at his breast. I'll do it. [_Pours more from vial._ Sir, drink this off.

_Dimsdell._ I thank thee, kind physician. [_Drinks._

_Roger._ Nay, thank me not. Now, take a glass of wine. [_Giving him another glass._

_Dimsdell._ Methinks, the wine is richer than is common.

_Roger._ Thirst always gives an added age to wine. This is right Xeres. Hast been in Spain?

_Dimsdell._ Nay, but the wine hath. I feel its warmth.

_Roger._ Truly, it is a grand inquisitor; 'Twill search each petty heresy that taints Thy blood, and burn it to a cinder.

_Dimsdell._ How many leagues it came to serve my need.

_Roger._ Aye, a thousand, and a thousand more!

_Dimsdell._ I would not go so far for it just now, For through my limbs there creeps a lang'rous ease Like that which doth precede deep slumber.

_Roger._ Rest here upon this bench. [_Dimsdell sits, half reclining._ Give way unto your drowsiness; it is Not sleep, but rest and relaxation. There! I'll keep you company.

_Dimsdell._ Do.

_Roger._ [_Pouring wine and drinking._] This wine is liquid gold. I quaff to your good health and ease of mind. This is good wine. It warms my chilly blood With all the dreamy heat of Spain. I hear The clack of th' castinet and th' droning twang Of stringéd instruments; while there before Mine eyes brown, yielding beauties dance in time To the pulsing music of a saraband! And yet there is a flavor of the sea, [_Sipping wine._ The long-drawn heaving of the ocean wave, The gentle cradling of a tropic tide; Its native golden sun--I fear you sleep? Or do the travels of the wine so rock Your soul that self is lost in revery? Why, man, dream not too much of placid bliss; Nor wine, nor man, can reach this clear perfection Until they pass the rack of thunder and Of hurricane.--'Tis on us now! Awake! [_Shouting in Dimsdell's ear._ My friend, awake! Dost thou not hear the storm? Oh! how it shrieks and whistles through the shrouds! The awful guns of heaven boom in our ears-- Nay, that was the mainsail gone by the board, Flapping with cannon roar. You do not follow me. O, come, I say! This is no sermon. You cannot be asleep, Yet feign you are to cheat me of my story. Wake up, my friend. You carry the jest too far.

_Roger cautiously shakes Dimsdell._

So soon! So sound! [_Looks around._ I fear you are not easy; thus. That's better. Your pardon, sir, your collar's much too tight. Now will I steal his hidden mystery, And learn the secret of his lengthened pain; Cure him and gain great honor. To think a man Would case himself in buttons like an armour! Now, shirt---- Merciful God! what miracle is this! A stigma! Aye! a stigma! the letter "A" In blood suffused! The counterpart of that Which Hester wears, but palpitating here In life! This is beyond my skill. Ah! David! David! Thou art the man! Thou wouldst Have set me in the hot forefront of battle Hadst thou but known me as Uriah! Bah! Why, what a brainless dullard have I been, To see this pretty puff-ball of a preacher Wax large before mine eyes in righteous husk-- And think him whole within--when but a touch, But one, had aired his rottenness! Oh! dotard that I am! blind, deaf and stupid! It takes a miracle to make me see What lay before me open. He did take Her part; ever professed himself her friend; And at her trial fell in trance. What more? He is the man! He is the man! Now ends our game of hoodman blind; oh, I Was warm, so very warm at times, so hot, Did almost touch thee; yet I knew thee not For him I sought. Thou cunning hypocrite! It must be I am fitted to my state, Dull, trusting and incapable; Or else--why surely I'm a fool.-- Had I been here when Hester bore her child, I would have fondly dreamed it was mine own; Put on the unearned pride that old men wear When their young wives bear children. A pretty baby, sir! My grandchild?--No; Mine own; my very own! Nay, wrong me not; I'm not so old--not so damned old after all! A ghe! a ghoo! Are not the eyes like mine?-- Yea, would have dandled it upon my knee, And coddled each succeeding drop, as though My fires had distilled them. But--now I know--my knowledge must be hid. Back shirt! cover blazoned infamy And let the whited front still hide from man The sepulchre of crime that festers here. He will not wake within an hour. I'll go Inform the Governor he sleeps, and have Him order none disturb his pious rest. Then I'll return and calmly probe his soul. Sleep on! Sleep on! [_Exit Roger._