Scene II
—Plain curtain, down. Music. Music ceases; subdued sounds as of a multitude back of curtain. Then the voice of Dimsdell rises as quiet returns.
Dimsdell. And now, good friends, Electors and Elected,
Although my speech hath run a lengthened course,
And what I purposed hath been said in full,
There’s more comes to me now.
What is our purpose and our destiny?
Curtain rises rapidly, disclosing stage set as in Act I, Scene III. Dimsdell upon a rostrum on church steps. Militia standing at rest. Citizens and officials in gala attire.
We call us English, Anglo-Saxon;
And from the Old we come to build the New,
The equal England of our expectation.
Here in the wilderness, the first small germs
Of man’s long-promised freedom find their soil;
Here hidden will they rot a little while;
Anon, the sprouts will break our troubled land,
Thrust forth the first red blades, and thence grow on,
Forever and forever!
I see this vast expanse of continent,
That dwarfs the noble states of cultured Europe,
Spread out before me like a map, from pole
To pole, and from the rising to the setting sun.
I see it teem with myriads; I see
Its densely peopled towns and villages;
I see its ports, greater than any known,
Send forth their riches to the hungry world.
I see, O blessed, wondrous sight! the strength
Of Anglo-Saxondom—our mighty England
And our great America, as one—
The Lion and the Eagle side by side,—
Leading the vanguard of humanity!
And more I see; I see the rise of man
Merely as man!
Let the day come, O Lord, when man, without
Addition to that noble title—man—
Can stand erect before his fellow-man,
Outface Oppression with his flashing eye,
And stamp and grind proud Tyranny to dust.
Put in our hearts, O, Gracious God, the yeast
Of freedom; let it work our natures free,
Although it break to recombine again
The atoms of each state.
Send down thy pulsing tongues of burning truth;
Fire our souls with love of human kind;
Let hate consume itself; let war thresh out
The brutal part of man, and fit us for
The last long period of peace.
A pause, then cries severally.
First Citizen. Is he an angel or a man? Sure Gabriel himself.
Second Citizen. Look! He faints.
Third Citizen. Poor minister!
Dimsdell. [Rallying himself] I will speak on.
Governor. My pious friend, wear not thy body out
To please our willing ears. Thou hast exceeded
Thy feeble strength already. Cease, man;
Demosthenes himself could not have stood
The strain which thou hast undergone. Prithee,—
Dimsdell. I thank you; reason not my wastefulness,
For, if you make me answer you, you cause
More waste. My taper’s burnt already.
It flickers even now, and, ere I leave
This place, my light, my life will go.
Question me not,
For, now I have fulfilled my public function,
There hurries on a duty of a private kind
I must perform at once or not at all;
Too long delayed already.
My friends, my life is flowing fast away,
I, that should be at full or on the turn,
Am near my lowest ebb.
This gnawing at my heart hath eaten through,
And now my soul releasing body bondage
Will take its flight—but where?
First Citizen. It goes to Heaven when it flies;
But go not now.
Dimsdell. Behold yon woman with The Scarlet Letter.
Citizens. Oh, shame upon her! Fie!
Dimsdell. Nay, shame on me; her sufferings have made
Her pure, but mine, beneath this lying robe,
Have eaten up my heart. Hypocrisy
Lie there [Taking off gown]. Now, while I do descend these steps
I leave my former life behind.
Descends and goes toward pillory.
Come, Hester, come!
Come take my hand, although it be unworthy.
Second Citizen. Is the man mad, my masters?
Dimsdell. Not mad, friend, not mad; but newly sane.
Come, my victim, come; assist me up
The pillory, there let us stand together—
The woman of The Scarlet Letter,
And he who did this wrong.
First Citizen. That holy man is mad. He an adulterer!
I’ll believe it when th’ Devil grows blind.
Dimsdell. Support me, Hester.
Dimsdell and Hester ascend pillory together.
Ho! all ye people of the Commonwealth,
Behold the man for whom you oft have sought,
The man who should have borne The Scarlet Letter;
For I am he.
If that the last words of one sinful man
May warn a multitude from sin, who knows
But that his errors tend toward good at last.
Let me not think my suffering in vain,
Or that my crime confessed will lead on others
Unto their downfall.
Behold me as I am—O, what a pang
[He clutches his breast from now on.
Was that—a hypocritical adulterer.
Oh!—aye, a base, a low adulterer!
O, God, prolong my breath for this confession!—
I wronged this woman who did fondly love me,
I did neglect her in my cowardice,
I shunned the public scorn.—
O, but a little while!—I stood not with her;
I was a coward; and did deny my child.
Delay! Delay!
Now I avow my crime, I do confess it,
[Kneels] And here I beg you friends, as I have begged
My God, forgive me. Oh, I must be brief—
If any think that while I walked these streets
In seeming honor I lacked my punishment,
Look here.—
[Tearing shirt open and disclosing stigma.
O—h!
This cancer did begin to gnaw my breast
When Hester first put on The Scarlet Letter
And never since hath once abated.
Voices. O, wonderful! wonderful! He faints! Help! Help!
Hester. Arthur! Arthur! one word for me! Only one!
Dimsdell. I must say more.
[Falls.
Hester. Forgive him, Father! O, God, have mercy now;
Give him but breath to speak to me!
Arthur! Arthur!
Dimsdell. Hester, my Hester, forgive—
[Dies.
Hester. Farewell, farewell—dead, dead!
Nay, you shall not take him from me!
My breast shall be his pillow; and, that he may
Rest easy, I here cast off your Scarlet Letter.
Governor. Captain, command your men to bear the body.
A solemn march.
The End