The Scarlet Stigma

A Drama In Four Acts

By

James Edgar Smith.

Founded upon Nathaniel Hawthorne's Novel, "The Scarlet Letter."

WASHINGTON, D.C. JAMES J. CHAPMAN, 1899.

Copyright, 1899, by JAMES EDGAR SMITH.

All rights reserved.

Press of George S. Krouse. Bindery of Edwin F. Price.

WASHINGTON, D.C.

Stigmatization is a rare incident of ecstasy. Not many well authenticated cases have been reported by competent medical authorities, and yet there can be no doubt of its occasional occurrence. See Encyclopaedia Britannica, article on Stigmatization by Dr. Macalister, and references therein cited; also the work on Nervous and Mental Diseases by Dr. Landon Carter Gray, page 511. That it may occur in men of a high order of ability is instanced by the case of St. Francis of Assisi.

It ought not to be necessary to point out that the entire third scene in the second act of this play is a dramatic transcript from the diseased consciousness of Mr. Dimsdell, that the Satan of the play is an hallucination, and that the impress of the stigma upon Dimsdell's breast is merely the culmination of his auto-hypnotic ecstasy, or trance.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

A Clerk, a Crier, a Jailer, Councilors, Citizens, Soldiers, Sailors, Indians, Servants.

TIME—June, 1668.

top [Pg 11]

Act I.

Scene I.

Enter Mother Carey, from Tavern.

Carey. Cap'n! Cap'n Butts! Gen'le gen'lemen! would top [Pg 12] ye rune a pore widdy woman by a singing of sech filthy tunes? And me up for my license again nex' Tuesday!

Butts. Peace! Peace, Mother Carey, hear your chickens screech! Come, boys!

[Singing.

Ha! Ha! Ha!

Carey. O, Lord! O, Lord! If the magistrates should hear that song, they'd close my place!

Butts. There, there now. [Chucks her under the chin.] The magistrates are not as quick to hear a sailor sing as thou art to take his orders. Bring us a pint apiece.

Carey. Thou naughty man! [Slaps his jaws.] A pint apiece?

[Exit.

Butts. Aye. Now, lads, bargain out your time; ye'll not see a petticoat for many a day.

[Lights pipe and sits.

Sailors. Aye, aye, sir.

Citizens cross stage, singly and in groups, all going in the same direction. Enter Mother Carey from house with ale, serves it, looks up and down street as in expectation of some one, then goes in.

Butts. Mother Carey's lost one of her chicks. Here lads! top [Pg 13] here's to the mousey Puritan lassies! They won't dance, they can't sing—Ah! well! here's to them till we come again!

[All drink.

Enter along the street two Councilors.

Arnold. 'Tis very true; but, sir, though many break this law and go unpunished, our godly Company should not wink at known adultery.

Langdon. In other words, we must find scape-goats to bear our sins.

Arnold. Nay, not exactly that. We vindicate God's laws, and——

[Exeunt Councilors.

Butts. He must be Privy Councilor to the Lord Himself!

Enter a group of WOMEN.

First Woman. Her beauty, say'st thou? Pretty is as pretty does, say I. I'd beauty her! Go to! Who knows the father of her brat; can any tell?

Second Woman. Thou dost not doubt thy goodman?

First Woman. Trust none of them. I know mine own; dost thou know thine? As for her she hath shamed our sex, and I would—

[Exeunt Women.

Butts. God's-my-life, there's more poison in their tongues than in a nest of rattlesnakes? What's all this pother, lads?

Sailor. There's a trial, sir, on a charge of bastardy.

Butts. Ha! ha! ha! You rogues had better ship elsewhere; if the wind sits in that quarter, you'll find foul weather here.

Sailors. Ha! ha! ha!

top [Pg 14]

More people cross the stage.

Butts. Cheapside on a holiday!

Re-enter Mother Carey, dressed for walking.

Carey. O, dear! O, dear! I'll be late; I'm sure I'll be late. Oh! dear, dear, dear! why will that Ursula still lag?

Butts. What's the matter, Mother?

Carey. Matter? Matter enough! a gentlewoman tried for adultery and me sure to miss it all! [Looks around.] Why doesn't Ursula come? O, dear! O, dear!—why, here she is!

Enter Ursula.

What kept thee, Ursula?

Ursula. Such a crowd! Whew! I'm out o' breath. [Sits; one or two pass over.] The town's run mad to look upon a gentlewoman shamed. [Citizens still pass.] Ah! there's no room for me now, but when her labor came God knows there was no press! I had room enough then, not one would lend a hand—fie! they are serpents, all of them; they have double tongues to hiss, but ne'er a hand to help.

Carey. Still talking to herself. Here, Ursula, take the keys and wait upon the gentlemen.

[Hands keys to Ursula and exit up street.

Ursula. Let the gentlemen wait on me awhile.

Butts. Would you have us die of thirst, Ursula?

Ursula. What will you have, Captain?

Butts. Stingo, Ursula, stingo!

[Exit Ursula in tavern.

What say you, lads, shall we see this trial?

Sailor. Aye, aye, sir, the woman's fair to look upon.

top [Pg 15]

Butts. Then let us get our ballast in, hoist sail and tack away.

Re-enter Ursula with ale.

Who is it, Ursula, they try?

Ursula. A gentle lady, sir. God's-my-life, had no man tempted her—but, that's your ways, you tempt us, blame us when we yield, and then make laws to punish us.

Butts. But, what's her name?

Ursula. What should it be but Hester Prynne?

Butts. Hester Prynne? The gentle Mistress Prynne I brought from Amsterdam three years ago?

Ursula. The same, God bless her.

Butts. My lads, don't wait for me.

[Exeunt Sailors.

I knew her husband, Ursula; a man Well versed in all the wisdom of the time; Somewhat well gone in years, but lovable Beyond the shallowness of youth, and rich In mellow charity. Oft hath he sailed With me from port to port where learning drew him, And still came richer home. One day he shipped For Amsterdam and brought his bride, who, like A hawthorn in its pink of youth that blushes 'Neath the shadow of an ancient elm, Shed spring-time sweetness round his green old age. I've seen them often in their Holland home, Where wisdom laid its treasures at the feet Of love, and beauty crowned the offering. She was a lovely lady, Ursula, And when her lord, still bent on learning more, Resolved to come out to America— top [Pg 16] His own affairs then calling him to England— He placed her in my care, intending soon To follow her. He did, but curséd fate! His ship was lost—no one knows where!

Ursula. Alack The day! She had not sinned had he been here.

Butts. But, didst thou know her, Ursula, as I Have known her, wisely good and true, thou wouldst Have wondered more.

Ursula. Know her, sir! I nursed her!

Butts. Thou, Ursula?

Ursula. None but I!

Butts. Where were her friends?

Ursula. Where, but at home! Dear heart, They shunned her like the plague—though if the truth Were known, many that shun her now would keep Her company perforce. None came near But pious Master Dimsdell, and even he Came only out of duty to her soul; He told me so.

Butts. The Reverend Master Dimsdell And thou her only comforters?

Ursula. Nay, The little bairn was her greatest comfort, sir.

Butts. How doth she bear her trouble, Ursula?

Ursula. Like a good woman, sir.

Butts. She yet is that! But have you never learned her lover's name?

Ursula. Nay, I never have.

top [Pg 17]

Butts. 'Tis strange that she Should fall; and then endeavor to conceal Her lover! Noble, wise and beautiful, No other than a man of mark could win her!

Ursula. A three years widow, baby three months old, A coward run-a-gate of a lover, sir— Tell me, is there no exception made By law for widows?

Butts. None, of which I know.

Ursula. The law is hard indeed!

Butts. I wonder if A rough sea-dog like me might speak a word For her?

Ursula. Aye, that you might! Go seek the good Old Doctor Wilson, mercy dwells with him, And he will aid you, sir.

Butts. I'll go at once.

[Exeunt severally, Butts up street, Ursula in tavern.

Enter Roger Prynne, travel stained.

Roger. We are not masters of our paths, although Our wills do seem to guide our faltering steps: Ship voyagers are we, and roam at will Within the narrow confines of the deck, But neither plot nor steer the destined course. I may have passed her house—I'll ask my way Here at the inn. Long live King Boniface! What ho! some wine!

Ursula. [Within] Your patience, Captain, I'll be there anon.

Roger. At your leisure, hostess; I've learned to wait.

[Sits.

A bachelor at sixty, I found myself top [Pg 18] Encumbered with a ward—nay, not that— Enriched with female loveliness and grace Bequeathed unto me by a dying friend. Volition had no part in that, nor in My sudden recrudescency of love. I willed our marriage; but 'twas fate bestowed The joys I long had fled. Then came our life In Amsterdam; each day so filled with bliss It overflowed into the next, and days Of joy grew into weeks and months of happiness— Let me have wine, I say!

Ursula. [Within] Coming, sir!

Roger. Anon the traveling itch—was't fate or will— Possessed my soul to see America, And money matters calling me to London, Where raged the plague, I sent my wife before me To America with Captain Butts, then bound For Boston. Ah! well-a-day, the parting!— I hurried up my business; fled London town; Shipped for America; was wrecked far South; Captured by Indians; escaping, wandered North Until I found the white man's colonies; And now footsore and old I've reached the place I first intended. What next, O, Fate?

Enter Ursula.

Good morrow, hostess.

Ursula. Good morrow, sir.

[Surprised.

top [Pg 19]

Roger. Look not Askance upon my way-worn clothes; there's gold

To pay my reckoning.

[Throwing money down.

Ursula. Your pardon, sir; I marveled, sir, so fine a gentleman Should be so travel-stained. What will you have?

Roger. Bring me a cup of sherris-sack.

Ursula. [Aside] I knew he was a gentleman!

[Exit.

Roger. How will my Hester greet me? Will she know me? She never saw me with a beard, nor in Such rags. Perhaps she thinks me dead— If so, the shock might kill her—Let me see— Putative widows have before my time Bought second husbands with their beauty, wealth, Or wit—and she hath all. 'Tis probable— And when the long-supposed defunct returned, He found his amorous relict the bride Of a bright-eyed youth! What worse, ye harpy fates? She may be dead! Oh! this is madness! Sweet Heaven, let her live! and, if I find Her married, I'll depart unknown to her And bury in my heart's deep sepulchre My widowed grief. Bah! I'm a fool! This weakness comes from my long wandering! Misfortunes, though we think we conquer them, Ever pursue, hang on our rear, and give Such rankling wounds as teach our souls to dread What else may lie in wait invincible.

Re-enter Ursula with wine.

Ursula. I beg your pardon, sir. I could not find the wine at first.

Roger. Why, how was that?

top [Pg 20]

Ursula. I'm not the hostess, sir, she is away; I merely take her place till she comes back.

Roger. You fill it rarely.

Ursula. God bless thee, sir, I'm cook, nurse, or hostess, as people need me. Ursula Cook, Ursula Nurse, or Ursula Goodale, at your service, sir.

Roger. Ah, indeed, Ursula! Then I presume thou knowest many of the citizens?

Ursula. I know them everyone.

Roger. This wine is excellent. [Drinking] Dost know one Roger Prynne?

Ursula. The husband of our Hester Prynne?

Roger. The same. [Aside] Thank God, she lives.

Ursula. He's dead, sir, rest his soul, a more than thirty months ago.

Roger. Poor fellow! He was a friend of mine. Where did they bury him?

Ursula. His ship was wrecked, he had no burial.

Roger. Here's to his memory! You know his wife?

Ursula. Alas; I do, sweet lady!

Roger. And why alas? The loss of a husband is no great calamity in a colony. There can be no dearth here of husband-material, I fancy.

Ursula. Whence come you that you know so little of the doings here?

Roger. From the far South, where for two long years and more I've lived among the savages. What do you mean?

Ursula. I mean her trial by the magistrates.

Roger. Tried by magistrates? For what?

Ursula. Adultery.

top [Pg 21]

Roger. Tried for adultery?

Ursula. Aye, sir, that she is.

Roger. It is a lie, a damned lie! Tried for adultery! A likely thing! So pure a woman! A purer creature never lived!

Ursula. Sir, you are her friend? You know her?

Roger. I am—I am her husband—her husband's friend. I knew her in Old England. Adultery! A pretty word! Who doth accuse her? Damned detractors!

Ursula. Her child.

Roger. Her what?

Ursula. Her child.

Roger. Hath Hester Prynne a child? Well, well; that is news indeed! God bless the little thing! it can't be quite as much as three years old; nay, not so old. Why, such a tot can give no testimony. I'll go to this trial; I may be able yet to aid her. Adultery! Bah!

Ursula. God bless your heart, sir.

Roger. Is't a boy or girl, how old?

Ursula. A girl and three months old.

Roger. Three months? Three years you mean.

Ursula. Three months, I said.

Roger. Thou dost not mean that Hester Prynne hath borne a child within the last two years?

Ursula. I do. [Aside] A strange man, truly. This news hath troubled him; but that's not strange, it troubles all her friends. He seemed glad enough she had a child, but when I said it was a girl it seemed to sting him. Well, well! God help the women; we are unwelcome when we come, abused while we stay, and driven hence with ill-usage.

top [Pg 22]

Roger. Adulteress! That cannot be! There's some Mistake, or some deceit in this. Her great Nobility of heart would take upon Herself another's wrong. I'll take an oath The babe they say is hers she never bore!

Ursula. 'Tis surely hers, for I delivered her.

Roger. Hester! Hester! O, my God! My Hester! Woman, didst thou say that she is married?

Ursula. Nay, I said she is a widow, sir.

Roger. Who is her paramour?

Ursula. I do not know.

[Busies herself removing tankards.

Roger. [Aside] Now is my honored name dragged in the dust By her to whom I did confide its keeping; And she herself, my cherished wife, upraised Upon a pedestal of shameful guilt For filthy mouths to spit their venom at. Slowly now. Whatever haps I'll be Cornelius Tacitus for the nonce, nor brave My state with that true name which marks me out As Publius Cornutus. I must have time to think. [To Ursula] Get me more wine. Prepare a room for me.

Ursula. Aye, sir. [Going.]

Roger. Where is this trial held?

Ursula. Sir, at the Market place, three crossings up The street and to the left.

Roger. I thank thee. Go.

[Exit Ursula.

Why was the banishment of tyrant fate Annulled by vigorous will? and why should I, For whom the jaws of death unhinged themselves, top [Pg 23] Escape from shipwreck, war, and pestilence, And here attain my journey's end at last, But that such evil deaths were much too mild To gratify the fury that pursues me! I was reserved for this last ignominy As in despite of human purposes; Robbed of mine honor where most I placed my trust And reap this pain where most I sowed for peace. Was it for this that I did marry her? Was it for this I sent her here before me? For this I nursed the holy purposes Of wedded purity, o'ercame the shocks Of human destiny, and held in check The inward passions of the baser man? For this—to be cornuted in mine age And die a by-word? My purposes! My purposes! O, God! Our purposes are little nine-pins Which fate's sure aim bowls down incessantly: As fast as we can set them up, events Roll down the narrow alleys of our lives, Rumbling like distant thunder as they speed, Till crash! our king-intent is down, and in His fall share all his puny retinue!

She an adulteress! My Hester, whom I cherished as my soul! How I loved her! Forgotten, like the meat of yesterday, Let it pass! Henceforth, for me there's nothing on this side Of Hell, but study of revenge on him top [Pg 24] Who wrought her shame. He must have used foul means; For she was ever chaste in thought and deed. Hell fiend! Now, under an assuméd name, I'll ferret out her lusty paramour; Contrive some means to deeply punish him,

And satisfy my fathomless revenge.

[Exit.

Scene II.

Dimsdell. 'Twould do no good.—The Governor is late, Or I have missed him.—Confess?—Disgrace for me; No help to her; and all the blasphemies That evil minds could cast on sacred calling Would be my blame. Whereas, I now can make My pleas take on the color of mine office And yet reflect on it a purer glow.— Why comes he not?—The path of righteousness, Though straight, leads on thro' pleasant fields to Heaven, Whereas the broad and easy road of sin Splits in its downward way, and then the will Stands at a halt which fork to take, though both Lead on to Hell! Now—why, here he comes!

Enter Governor, attended.

Governor. Nay, Dimsdell, plead no more; she must be tried. I know what thou wouldst say, and like thee for it; But think, my friend, the law would mock itself If pardon did precede the penalty.

Dimsdell. Our Lord did pardon one was taken in The very act. O, think of Him!

Governor.top [Pg 25] Enough! What! wouldst thou have our laws contemned As feeble nets to catch the smaller fry And let the great break through? I tell thee, sir, Her wealth, her beauty, her hitherto fair fame, Blacken her crime and make its punishment A signal warning to the baser sort.

Dimsdell. Hath she not suffered pains and imprisonment? Enough to answer all the decalogue?

Governor. I stand for law; and you, I think, do think You stand for gospel.—Come, we tarry.— Plead with the Council for the woman, and, while I think her death were well deserved, I'll not Oppose their mercy if you win it.

My hand upon it.

[Going.

Dimsdell. If that she be condemned, Suspend her sentence till her paramour Be found; and let them die together.

Governor. Agreed. Come, we're late.

[Exeunt.

Scene III.

Governor. Now that our other business is dispatched, Call Hester Prynne.

Wilson. Wise Governor, and you, My brethren: dried as I am with age, The tendrils of my heart are pliable; Nor have the tangles of this thicket-world So twisted all my grain as not to bend Before another's misery. Wherefore, top [Pg 26] I do beseech you, call her not.

Governor. Yet must We try the woman, though we pity her; And though the scion mercy grafts upon The stock of justice, the stock is justice still.

Wilson. I plead for justice! even-handed justice! As blind and cold as death—but with a sword, Sharp on one side to reach the woman's heart And on the other keener for the man's! You call the woman; where's her paramour?

Governor. We do not know.

Wilson. Then grant a stay to Hester Till he's known.

Governor. Too late; nor were it good To let the woman slap the face of law, And not resent it quickly. Once again, Call Hester Prynne. The man she may discover.

Enter Rev. Arthur Dimsdell through crowd and goes to Portico.

Crier. Hester Prynne! Hester Prynne!

[Exit.

Dimsdell. Most worthy Governor, I am like one Who waking hears the village clock toll time, Yet, having missed the first few strokes, the hour He cannot tell: and so stand I and hear Fair Hester called. Is it for trial, or For punishment?

Governor. For both.

Dimsdell. I am her pastor and I speak for her; I would to God that I could plead "Not guilty," Or in her stead could offer up myself top [Pg 27] To satisfy the law!

Crowd. How good he is!

Dimsdell. Gentle and wise she is, grave councilors, And with a modest meekness goes about The daily duties of her household care; Oh! I am sure no vulgar palate-bait Did lure her to this shame, but some enticement That took the form of higher nature did Invest the hook. For she is modesty Itself.

Governor. Can modesty, then, fall like this?

Dimsdell. The modesty of woman is like the blush Upon a tender rose; it is her treasure And her ornament: you cannot touch it, But it fades away; or breathe upon it, But it loses perfume; or bring it to the light, Unwilted.

Governor. True, but when the roses fade We cast them forth, nor treasure them again.

Dimsdell. 'Tis thus I own; but we have higher teaching. Our Lord, who knew temptation's mighty power, Yet was himself without sin's damning stain, Did pass upon a case like this. "Let him Who hath no sin first cast a stone at her." And then He said, "Go, woman, sin no more." Oh! wondrous grace that pardoned frailty Which had not sunk to vice!

Re-enter Crier with Hester Prynne.