Although the forefathers of the Boston Colony strove to create a utopian society, two of the first things they built when they made their town were a cemetery and a prison. On this day, twenty years after the first puritan settlers arrived in the New World colony, the townspeople gathered outside the prison.
“Good woman,” proclaimed one woman, “if we judged wicked woman like Hester Prynne, she would not have the easy sentence that the town magistrates have handed her!”
“Yes” agreed another woman. “They should at brand the mark upon her forehead with a hot! By placing the mark on the front of her gown, she can cover it up anytime! ”
“Yes!” cried another, “she may cover it as she likes, but the mark will always be on her heart!”
Then the prison door, covered in iron spikes, flew open. A large, frightening figure in black came out from the inner darkness. With his hand, he tried to usher out a young women. But she pushed the hand away and stepped out into the open by her own free will, with an air of dignity.
In the woman’s arms was a three-month-old baby. The baby winked because it was the first time it had ever felt Sunlight on its face. The mother, standing fully revealed amid the townspeople, lowered the baby in her arm to show her gown. She was blushing, but she wore a proud smile. On the breast of her gown was a large letter A. the letter was made of fine, red cloth and embroidered with rich, gold thread. The design was artistic and fanciful.
Hester Prynne was a tall young woman, with an elegant figure and dark gleaming hair. Those who knew her were amazed at her beauty and ladylike comportment under these circumstances
“She certainly has great skill with the sewing needle,” remarked one of the woman, “but what a shameful way to show it!”
“Make way in the king’s name!” shouted the prison officer. “Everyone will have a chance to get a good view of this wicked woman from now until noon. Come along, marketplace!”
A lane opened up between the spectators, and Hester Prynne walked toward the area appointed for public punishment. Calmly, she came to the scaffold at the western end of the marketplace, next to Boston’s oldest church. The scaffold was a platform where punishments were carried out publicly so as to impress the citizenry into obeying the laws. There was pillory there, designed to hold a human tightly and keep it in the public gaze. But Hester Prynne was not sentenced to its confinement. Her sentence was just to stand on the platform for three hours.
She climbed the steps and began her sentence. The onlookers stared at her and the scarlet letter in solemn silence. Hester had prepared herself to face the assault of the public’s scorn and insults, but she found their heavy silence almost more difficult to bear. When she stood there, her mind began to travel back into itself as memories began to surface. She could see and feel the days of her happy childhood. Then she saw her face, gazing in the mirror, and its glow of young beauty. Then she saw the face of a man who was much older. His eyes were dim, and his skin was pale from many years of cloistered study. His figure was slightly misshaper,his left shoulder a bet higher than his right.
Then Hester Prynne's memories ended, and she found herself back on the scaffolding surrounded by the townspeople. They were still staring at her and the scarlet letter on her chest and touched it to assure herself it was real. And it was, as were the infant and her burning shame.
After standing there for a little while, Hester saw a person on the edge of the crowd that she couldn't ignore. He was a white man, standing next to a native. The white man, small, with a wrinkled face, was wearing a mix of a civilized and savage costume.
Although he had tried to disguise his physical features, it was clear that his left shoulder was higher than his right. As she stared at him, her child cried in pain from the tightness of her grasp on it, but she did not seem to hear.
The man, who was a stranger in this town, stared back at Hester Prynne. At first his glance was careless, but as he began to understand the situation she was in, a look of horror came across his face.
"I ask you, kind air," the man said to a townsman, "who is this woman,and way must she suffer such public shame?"
"You must be a stranger to this town," answered the townsman. "Everyone who lives here known about Hester Prynne and her wicked ways. She has created a huge scandal among the members of Reverend Dimmesdale's church."
"That's right ," replied the man. "I am a stranger.I have been a captive of the savage heathens in the south for a long time. Please tell me of this woman Hester Prynne's Crime."
"This woman is the wife of an English scholar. He decided to join our colony and sent his wife over ahead of him. But this man hasn't been heard from in two years, and his young wife was life to her own poor judgement."
"Ah, I see what you mean," said the stranger with a bitter smile. "So who is