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OldRogerChillingworth,throughoutlife,hadbeencalmintemperament,kindly,thoughnotofwarmaffections,butever,andinallhisrelationswiththeworld,apureanduprightman.
Hehadbegunaninvestigation,asheimagined,withthesevereandequalintegrityofajudge,desirousonlyoftruth,evenasifthequestioninvolvednomorethantheair–drawnlinesandfiguresofageometricalproblem,insteadofhumanpassions,andwrongsinflictedonhimself.
But,asheproceeded,aterriblefascination,akindoffierce,thoughstillcalm,necessity,seizedtheoldmanwithinitsgripe,andneversethimfreeagainuntilhehaddoneallitsbidding.
Henowdugintothepoorclergyman’sheart,likeaminersearchingforgold;or,rather,likeasextondelvingintoagrave,possiblyinquestofajewelthathadbeenburiedonthedeadman’sbosom,butlikelytofindnothingsavemortalityandcorruption.
Alas,forhisownsoul,ifthesewerewhathesought!
Sometimesalightglimmeredoutofthephysician’seyes,burningblueandominous,likethereflectionofafurnace,or,letussay,likeoneofthosegleamsofghastlyfirethatdartedfromBunyan’sawfuldoorwayinthehillside,andquiveredonthepilgrim’sface.
Thesoilwherethisdarkminerwasworkinghadperchanceshownindicationsthatencouragedhim.
“Thisman,”saidhe,atonesuchmoment,tohimself,“pureastheydeemhim—allspiritualasheseems—hathinheritedastronganimalnaturefromhisfatherorhismother.
Letusdigalittlefurtherinthedirectionofthisvein!”
Thenafterlongsearchintotheminister’sdiminterior,andturningovermanypreciousmaterials,intheshapeofhighaspirationsforthewelfareofhisrace,warmloveofsouls,puresentiments,naturalpiety,strengthenedbythoughtandstudy,andilluminatedbyrevelation—allofwhichinvaluablegoldwasperhapsnobetterthanrubbishtotheseeker—hewouldturnback,discouraged,andbeginhisquesttowardsanotherpoint.
Hegropedalongasstealthily,withascautiousatread,andaswaryanoutlook,asathiefenteringachamberwhereamanliesonlyhalfasleep—or,itmaybe,broadawake—withpurposetostealtheverytreasurewhichthismanguardsastheappleofhiseye.
Inspiteofhispremeditatedcarefulness,thefloorwouldnowandthencreak;hisgarmentswouldrustle;theshadowofhispresence,inaforbiddenproximity,wouldbethrownacrosshisvictim.
Inotherwords,Mr.Dimmesdale,whosesensibilityofnerveoftenproducedtheeffectofspiritualintuition,wouldbecomevaguelyawarethatsomethinginimicaltohispeacehadthrustitselfintorelationwithhim.
ButOldRogerChillingworth,too,hadperceptionsthatwerealmostintuitive;andwhentheministerthrewhisstartledeyestowardshim,therethephysiciansat;hiskind,watchful,sympathizing,butneverintrusivefriend.
YetMr.Dimmesdalewouldperhapshaveseenthisindividual’scharactermoreperfectly,ifacertainmorbidness,towhichsickheartsareliable,hadnotrenderedhimsuspiciousofallmankind.
Trustingnomanashisfriend,hecouldnotrecognizehisenemywhenthelatteractuallyappeared.
Hethereforestillkeptupafamiliarintercoursewithhim,dailyreceivingtheoldphysicianinhisstudy,orvisitingthelaboratory,and,forrecreation’ssake,watchingtheprocessesbywhichweedswereconvertedintodrugsofpotency.
Oneday,leaninghisforeheadonhishand,andhiselbowonthesilloftheopenwindow,thatlookedtowardsthegrave–yard,hetalkedwithRogerChillingworth,whiletheoldmanwasexaminingabundleofunsightlyplants.
“Where,”askedhe,withalookaskanceatthem—foritwastheclergyman’speculiaritythatheseldom,now–a–days,lookedstraightforthatanyobject,whetherhumanorinanimate,“where,mykinddoctor,didyougatherthoseherbs,withsuchadark,flabbyleaf?”
“Eveninthegraveyardhereathand,”answeredthephysician,continuinghisemployment.“Theyarenewtome.
Ifoundthemgrowingonagrave,whichborenotombstone,noothermemorialofthedeadman,savetheseuglyweeds,thathavetakenuponthemselvestokeephiminremembrance.
Theygrewoutofhisheart,andtypify,itmaybe,somehideoussecretthatwasburiedwithhim,andwhichhehaddonebettertoconfessduringhislifetime.”
“Perchance,”saidMr.Dimmesdale,“heearnestlydesiredit,butcouldnot.”
“Andwherefore?”rejoinedthephysician.
“Whereforenot;sinceallthepowersofnaturecallsoearnestlyfortheconfessionofsin,thattheseblackweedshavesprungupoutofaburiedheart,tomakemanifest,anoutspokencrime?”
“That,goodsir,isbutafantasyofyours,”repliedtheminister.
“Therecanbe,ifIforbodearight,nopower,shortoftheDivinemercy,todisclose,whetherbyutteredwords,orbytypeoremblem,thesecretsthatmaybeburiedinthehumanheart.
Theheart,makingitselfguiltyofsuchsecrets,mustperforceholdthem,untilthedaywhenallhiddenthingsshallberevealed.
NorhaveIsoreadorinterpretedHolyWrit,astounderstandthatthedisclosureofhumanthoughtsanddeeds,thentobemade,isintendedasapartoftheretribution.
That,surely,wereashallowviewofit.
No;theserevelations,unlessIgreatlyerr,aremeantmerelytopromotetheintellectualsatisfactionofallintelligentbeings,whowillstandwaiting,onthatday,toseethedarkproblemofthislifemadeplain.
Aknowledgeofmen’sheartswillbeneedfultothecompletestsolutionofthatproblem.
And,Iconceivemoreover,thattheheartsholdingsuchmiserablesecretsasyouspeakof,willyieldthemup,atthatlastday,notwithreluctance,butwithajoyunutterable.”
“Thenwhynotrevealithere?”askedRogerChillingworth,glancingquietlyasideattheminister.“Whyshouldnottheguiltyonessooneravailthemselvesofthisunutterablesolace?”
“Theymostlydo,”saidtheclergyman,gripinghardathisbreast,asifafflictedwithanimportunatethrobofpain.
“Many,manyapoorsoulhathgivenitsconfidencetome,notonlyonthedeath–bed,butwhilestronginlife,andfairinreputation.
Andever,aftersuchanoutpouring,oh,whatareliefhaveIwitnessedinthosesinfulbrethren!
Evenasinonewhoatlastdrawsfreeair,afteralongstiflingwithhisownpollutedbreath.Howcanitbeotherwise?
Whyshouldawretchedman—guilty,wewillsay,ofmurder—prefertokeepthedeadcorpseburiedinhisownheart,ratherthanflingitforthatonce,andlettheuniversetakecareofit!”
“Yetsomemenburytheirsecretsthus,”observedthecalmphysician.
“True;therearesuchmen,”answeredMr.Dimmesdale.
“Butnottosuggestmoreobviousreasons,itmaybethattheyarekeptsilentbytheveryconstitutionoftheirnature.Or—canwenotsupposeit?
—guiltyastheymaybe,retaining,nevertheless,azealforGod’sgloryandman’swelfare,theyshrinkfromdisplayingthemselvesblackandfilthyintheviewofmen;because,thenceforward,nogoodcanbeachievedbythem;noevilofthepastberedeemedbybetterservice.
So,totheirownunutterabletorment,theygoaboutamongtheirfellow–creatures,lookingpureasnew–fallensnow,whiletheirheartsareallspeckledandspottedwithiniquityofwhichtheycannotridthemselves.”
“Thesemendeceivethemselves,”saidRogerChillingworth,withsomewhatmoreemphasisthanusual,andmakingaslightgesturewithhisforefinger.
“Theyfeartotakeuptheshamethatrightfullybelongstothem.
Theirloveforman,theirzealforGod’sservice—theseholyimpulsesmayormaynotcoexistintheirheartswiththeevilinmatestowhichtheirguilthasunbarredthedoor,andwhichmustneedspropagateahellishbreedwithinthem.
But,iftheyseektoglorifyGod,letthemnotliftheavenwardtheiruncleanhands!
Iftheywouldservetheirfellowmen,letthemdoitbymakingmanifestthepowerandrealityofconscience,inconstrainingthemtopenitentialself–abasement!
Wouldthouhavemetobelieve,Owiseandpiousfriend,thatafalseshowcanbebetter—canbemoreforGod’sglory,orman’welfare—thanGod’sowntruth?Trustme,suchmendeceivethemselves!”
“Itmaybeso,”saidtheyoungclergyman,indifferently,aswaivingadiscussionthatheconsideredirrelevantorunseasonable.
Hehadareadyfaculty,indeed,ofescapingfromanytopicthatagitatedhistoosensitiveandnervoustemperament.
—“But,now,Iwouldaskofmywell–skilledphysician,whether,ingoodsooth,hedeemsmetohaveprofitedbyhiskindlycareofthisweakframeofmine?”
BeforeRogerChillingworthcouldanswer,theyheardtheclear,wildlaughterofayoungchild’svoice,proceedingfromtheadjacentburial–ground.
Lookinginstinctivelyfromtheopenwindow—foritwassummer–time—theministerbeheldHesterPrynneandlittlePearlpassingalongthefootpaththattraversedtheenclosure.
Pearllookedasbeautifulastheday,butwasinoneofthosemoodsofperversemerrimentwhich,whenevertheyoccurred,seemedtoremoveherentirelyoutofthesphereofsympathyorhumancontact.
Shenowskippedirreverentlyfromonegravetoanother;untilcomingtothebroad,flat,armorialtombstoneofadepartedworthy—perhapsofIsaacJohnsonhimself—shebegantodanceuponit.
Inreplytohermother’scommandandentreatythatshewouldbehavemoredecorously,littlePearlpausedtogatherthepricklyburrsfromatallburdockwhichgrewbesidethetomb.
Takingahandfulofthese,shearrangedthemalongthelinesofthescarletletterthatdecoratedthematernalbosom,towhichtheburrs,astheirnaturewas,tenaciouslyadhered.Hesterdidnotpluckthemoff.
RogerChillingworthhadbythistimeapproachedthewindowandsmiledgrimlydown.
“Thereisnolaw,norreverenceforauthority,noregardforhumanordinancesoropinions,rightorwrong,mixedupwiththatchild’scomposition,”remarkedhe,asmuchtohimselfastohiscompanion.
“Isawher,theotherday,bespattertheGovernorhimselfwithwateratthecattle–troughinSpringLane.What,inheaven’sname,isshe?Istheimpaltogetherevil?Hathsheaffections?
Hathsheanydiscoverableprincipleofbeing?”
“None,savethefreedomofabrokenlaw,”answeredMr.Dimmesdale,inaquietway,asifhehadbeendiscussingthepointwithinhimself,“Whethercapableofgood,Iknownot.”
Thechildprobablyoverheardtheirvoices,for,lookinguptothewindowwithabright,butnaughtysmileofmirthandintelligence,shethrewoneofthepricklyburrsattheRev.Mr.Dimmesdale.
Thesensitiveclergymanshrank,withnervousdread,fromthelightmissile.
Detectinghisemotion,Pearlclappedherlittlehandsinthemostextravagantecstacy.
HesterPrynne,likewise,hadinvoluntarilylookedup,andallthesefourpersons,oldandyoung,regardedoneanotherinsilence,tillthechildlaughedaloud,andshouted—“Comeaway,mother!
Comeaway,oryonderoldblackmanwillcatchyou!
Hehathgotholdoftheministeralready.Comeaway,motherorhewillcatchyou!ButhecannotcatchlittlePearl!”
Soshedrewhermotheraway,skipping,dancing,andfriskingfantasticallyamongthehillocksofthedeadpeople,likeacreaturethathadnothingincommonwithabygoneandburiedgeneration,norownedherselfakintoit.
Itwasasifshehadbeenmadeafreshoutofnewelements,andmustperforcebepermittedtoliveherownlife,andbealawuntoherselfwithouthereccentricitiesbeingreckonedtoherforacrime.
“Theregoesawoman,”resumedRogerChillingworth,afterapause,“who,beherdemeritswhattheymay,hathnoneofthatmysteryofhiddensinfulnesswhichyoudeemsogrievoustobeborne.
IsHesterPrynnethelessmiserable,thinkyou,forthatscarletletteronherbreast?”
“Idoverilybelieveit,”answeredtheclergyman.“Nevertheless,Icannotanswerforher.
TherewasalookofpaininherfacewhichIwouldgladlyhavebeensparedthesightof.
Butstill,methinks,itmustneedsbebetterforthesufferertobefreetoshowhispain,asthispoorwomanHesteris,thantocoveritupinhisheart.”
Therewasanotherpause,andthephysicianbegananewtoexamineandarrangetheplantswhichhehadgathered.
“Youinquiredofme,alittletimeagone,”saidhe,atlength,“myjudgmentastouchingyourhealth.”
“Idid,”answeredtheclergyman,“andwouldgladlylearnit.Speakfrankly,Iprayyou,beitforlifeordeath.”
“Freelythen,andplainly,”saidthephysician,stillbusywithhisplants,butkeepingawaryeyeonMr.Dimmesdale,“thedisorderisastrangeone;notsomuchinitselfnorasoutwardlymanifested,—insofar,atleastasthesymptomshavebeenlaidopentomyobservation.
Lookingdailyatyou,mygoodsir,andwatchingthetokensofyouraspectnowformonthsgoneby,Ishoulddeemyouamansoresick,itmaybe,yetnotsosickbutthataninstructedandwatchfulphysicianmightwellhopetocureyou.
ButIknownotwhattosay,thediseaseiswhatIseemtoknow,yetknowitnot.”
“Youspeakinriddles,learnedsir,”saidthepaleminister,glancingasideoutofthewindow.
“Then,tospeakmoreplainly,”continuedthephysician,“andIcravepardon,sir,shoulditseemtorequirepardon,forthisneedfulplainnessofmyspeech.
Letmeaskasyourfriend,asonehavingcharge,underProvidence,ofyourlifeandphysicalwellbeing,hathalltheoperationsofthisdisorderbeenfairlylaidopenandrecountedtome?”
“Howcanyouquestionit?”askedtheminister.“Surelyitwerechild’splaytocallinaphysicianandthenhidethesore!”
“Youwouldtellme,then,thatIknowall?”
saidRogerChillingworth,deliberately,andfixinganeye,brightwithintenseandconcentratedintelligence,ontheminister’sface.“Beitso!Butagain!
Hetowhomonlytheoutwardandphysicalevilislaidopen,knoweth,oftentimes,buthalftheevilwhichheiscalledupontocure.
Abodilydisease,whichwelookuponaswholeandentirewithinitself,may,afterall,bebutasymptomofsomeailmentinthespiritualpart.
Yourpardononceagain,goodsir,ifmyspeechgivetheshadowofoffence.
You,sir,ofallmenwhomIhaveknown,arehewhosebodyistheclosestconjoined,andimbued,andidentified,sotospeak,withthespiritwhereofitistheinstrument.”
“ThenIneedasknofurther,”saidtheclergyman,somewhathastilyrisingfromhischair.“Youdealnot,Itakeit,inmedicineforthesoul!”
“Thus,asickness,”continuedRogerChillingworth,goingon,inanunalteredtone,withoutheedingtheinterruption,butstandingupandconfrontingtheemaciatedandwhite–cheekedminister,withhislow,dark,andmisshapenfigure,—“asickness,asoreplace,ifwemaysocallit,inyourspirithathimmediatelyitsappropriatemanifestationinyourbodilyframe.
Wouldyou,therefore,thatyourphysicianhealthebodilyevil?
Howmaythisbeunlessyoufirstlayopentohimthewoundortroubleinyoursoul?”
“No,nottothee!nottoanearthlyphysician!”
criedMr.Dimmesdale,passionately,andturninghiseyes,fullandbright,andwithakindoffierceness,onoldRogerChillingworth.“Nottothee!
But,ifitbethesoul’sdisease,thendoIcommitmyselftotheonePhysicianofthesoul!
He,ifitstandwithHisgoodpleasure,cancure,orhecankill.
LetHimdowithmeas,inHisjusticeandwisdom,Heshallseegood.
Butwhoartthou,thatmeddlestinthismatter?
thatdaresthrusthimselfbetweenthesuffererandhisGod?”
Withafranticgestureherushedoutoftheroom.
“Itisaswelltohavemadethisstep,”saidRogerChillingworthtohimself,lookingaftertheminister,withagravesmile.“Thereisnothinglost.Weshallbefriendsagainanon.
Butsee,now,howpassiontakesholduponthisman,andhurriethhimoutofhimself!Aswithonepassionsowithanother.
Hehathdoneawildthingerenow,thispiousMasterDimmesdale,inthehotpassionofhisheart.”
Itprovednotdifficulttore–establishtheintimacyofthetwocompanions,onthesamefootingandinthesamedegreeasheretofore.
Theyoungclergyman,afterafewhoursofprivacy,wassensiblethatthedisorderofhisnerveshadhurriedhimintoanunseemlyoutbreakoftemper,whichtherehadbeennothinginthephysician’swordstoexcuseorpalliate.
Hemarvelled,indeed,attheviolencewithwhichhehadthrustbackthekindoldman,whenmerelyprofferingtheadvicewhichitwashisdutytobestow,andwhichtheministerhimselfhadexpresslysought.
Withtheseremorsefulfeelings,helostnotimeinmakingtheamplestapologies,andbesoughthisfriendstilltocontinuethecarewhich,ifnotsuccessfulinrestoringhimtohealth,had,inallprobability,beenthemeansofprolonginghisfeebleexistencetothathour.
RogerChillingworthreadilyassented,andwentonwithhismedicalsupervisionoftheminister;doinghisbestforhim,inallgoodfaith,butalwaysquittingthepatient’sapartment,atthecloseoftheprofessionalinterview,withamysteriousandpuzzledsmileuponhislips.
ThisexpressionwasinvisibleinMr.Dimmesdale’spresence,butgrewstronglyevidentasthephysiciancrossedthethreshold.
“Ararecase,”hemuttered.“Imustneedslookdeeperintoit.Astrangesympathybetwixtsoulandbody!Wereitonlyfortheart’ssake,Imustsearchthismattertothebottom.”
Itcametopass,notlongafterthesceneaboverecorded,thattheReverendMr.Dimmesdale,noon–day,andentirelyunawares,fellintoadeep,deepslumber,sittinginhischair,withalargeblack–lettervolumeopenbeforehimonthetable.
Itmusthavebeenaworkofvastabilityinthesomniferousschoolofliterature.
Theprofounddepthoftheminister’sreposewasthemoreremarkable,inasmuchashewasoneofthosepersonswhosesleepordinarilyisaslightasfitful,andaseasilyscaredaway,asasmallbirdhoppingonatwig.
Tosuchanunwontedremoteness,however,hadhisspiritnowwithdrawnintoitselfthathestirrednotinhischairwhenoldRogerChillingworth,withoutanyextraordinaryprecaution,cameintotheroom.
Thephysicianadvanceddirectlyinfrontofhispatient,laidhishanduponhisbosom,andthrustasidethevestment,thathithertohadalwayscovereditevenfromtheprofessionaleye.
Then,indeed,Mr.Dimmesdaleshuddered,andslightlystirred.
Afterabriefpause,thephysicianturnedaway.
Butwithwhatawildlookofwonder,joy,andhonor!
Withwhataghastlyrapture,asitwere,toomightytobeexpressedonlybytheeyeandfeatures,andthereforeburstingforththroughthewholeuglinessofhisfigure,andmakingitselfevenriotouslymanifestbytheextravagantgestureswithwhichhethrewuphisarmstowardstheceiling,andstampedhisfootuponthefloor!
HadamanseenoldRogerChillingworth,atthatmomentofhisecstasy,hewouldhavehadnoneedtoaskhowSatancomportshimselfwhenaprecioushumansoulislosttoheaven,andwonintohiskingdom.
Butwhatdistinguishedthephysician’secstasyfromSatan’swasthetraitofwonderinit!
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