CHAPTER TWO

The Market Place

On the one piece of grass on Prison Lane one certain summer morning, more than two hundred years ago, a crowd of Boston residents watched carefully for the great door of the prison to open. In later years, people gathered in great numbers only for famous criminals to be killed in public. However, during the time when the strict Puritans ruled Boston, rather harmless mistakes were considered serious and shameful. Perhaps, a child would be beaten in the town square as a punishment for being ungrateful to his parents, or possibly that a witch, like old Mistress Hibbins, the angry wife of the town's judge, would be hung. During this time, religion and law were considered to be the same. A small crime was considered to be as terrible as the worst of crime, and criminals were punished strictly. The criminals would find no pity from the crowd, as the townspeople stood watching eagerly as the prisoner suffered greatly.

Our story begins on a summer morning when the town gathered to watch the suffering of another criminal. On this particular day, there were quite a number of women present, who all showed great interest in the event. The women of this time had recently come from England, and were much less proper and polite than the ladies of later generations. The women of Puritan times were rough countrywomen, always looking forward to observe a prisoner being killed. With each generation after, however, women became more tender, proper and civil.

"Listen, ladies," said a countrywoman of fifty years old, "I tell you what I think. It would help society if we older women, being honest church members, should handle such evil women as this Hester Prynne. If we five women decided the punishment for that terrible woman, do you believe we would have given her the punishment the town judges have offered her? I believe not!"

"People say," said another, "that Mr Dimmesdale, her minister, has become quite upset that such a terrible crime happened in his religious community."

"The judges are God-fearing gentlemen, but too pitying—that is the truth," added a third older woman. "They should have, at least, marked Hester Prynne's forehead with a hot iron, so she will never forget her crime. That would have troubled her, but she—the naughty little woman—cares little about her punishment of the scarlet letter on the front of her dress. She can easily hide the letter with a pin, and walk the streets without shame!"

"Ah, but," interrupted another, more softly, a young wife, holding a child by the hand, "let her cover the letter, as she will always feel shame in her heart."

"Why do we talk of marks, whether on her dress or on her forehead?" cried another female, the ugliest as well as the most pitiless of the women. "This woman has brought shame to our community, and should die. Is there no law for it? Of course there is in the words of God."

"Be quiet, now, foolish woman!" exclaimed a man in the crowd. "The prison door is opening, and here comes Mistress Prynne herself."

The door of the prison sprang open, and there appeared, like a black shadow coming into the sunshine, the prison guard, with a sword at his side. This person represented the strictness of Puritan law, which it was his duty to give the final punishment to the criminals. He carried his sword in his left hand, and laid his right hand on the shoulder of a young woman, who he dragged forward. At the doorway to the prison, she resisted him, showing her bravery and independence, as she stepped into the sunlight. She held a child, a baby of three months old, who turned its head from the light. The baby's life had, until then, been only in the dark prison, it had never seen the light of day.

When the young woman—the mother of this child—stood in front of the crowd, she held the baby close to her chest, not to show motherly love, but to hide her sign of punishment. In a moment, however, she showed the front of her dress to the waiting crowd. They soon viewed an elegantly sewn letter "A", which was artistically done in fine red cloth surrounded by rich gold thread. The rare piece showed a great amount of skill, which Hester had done herself. The elegant piece was of much greater quality than was allowed in the town.

The young woman was tall, with grace and elegance. She had a great amount of dark hair that shown in the sunlight, and a face more beautiful than any other, with dark, mysterious eyes. She was polite and well-mannered, with a tender look. She had never looked as elegant and ladylike than ever before when she was taken out of the prison. Many in the crowd were astonished that her look of grace and confidence remained after her long stay in the prison of terrors. Her beauty shone through her misfortune. Her clothes, which she had made for the occasion, seemed to show her spirit, full of disobedience and strength. Everyone in the crowd was attracted to the fantastically sewn letter on her chest. Both men and women stared at the grand piece of needlework on Hester's chest.

She has good skills in needlework, that's certain," remarked one of the female observers, "but she has surely found a way to make pride out of her punishment."

"I believe we should take her dress from her tender body, and replace that red letter, which she sewed so patiently, and I'll give her one of my old rags I wore when I was ill. That would be more suitable for her punishment."

"Oh, peace, neighbors, peace!" whispered their youngest companion. "Do not let her hear you! She feels the pain of the needle in her heart."

The old prison guard then took Hester Prynne and her child to the market place, where every man, woman and child could see her brave clothing.

A crowd of eager and curious school boys, not understanding the reason for her lonely walk to the market place, ran before her, turning back to stare at her and the child. Hester looked proud during her shameful walk; she did not show the great pain she suffered, as if her heart had been torn from her body and thrown on the street for all to observe. She was then taken to a platform in the middle of the market place, where she was told to stand so all the town could see her in her shame. For many years, several prisoners had been hung on this platform, where the town would meet to watch the killing. Hester's punishment was to stand for a certain amount of time on the platform. She walked up the steps, and was then displayed to the surrounding crowd, looking high and strong. This beautiful woman, holding her child to her chest, looked much like the ideal picture of motherhood, but for Hester Prynne, she had committed the most evil of crimes a woman could.

The crowd was curious about the grand letter sewn onto her chest, although with their silence, they also gave Hester a great deal of guilt and shame to feel. The leaders of the town, who stood together on a balcony looking down at Hester, showed nothing but angry shame. The crowd, thus, did the same. Hester hoped that the crowd, with its hateful looks, was instead laughing at her, so she could give a bitter, proud smile. She felt, at the moment, as if she needed to scream and throw herself from the platform to her death, but she could not.

Yet, as she stood proudly to bear her punishment, the crowd disappeared, at times, as she remembered events from her life before this terrible affair had begun. She remembered school days, sports, childish quarrels, and her years as a young woman. Perhaps these memories were her spirit attempting to relieve her troubled mind from the terrible stress of the current punishment. Standing there, high above the crowd, she remembered her home village, far away in England, and her parents' home, small yet noble. She remembered her father's face, covered in a white beard; her mother's too, with a look of anxious love, always worried about her daughter's choices in life. Hester remembered her own face as a young woman, full of girlish beauty. Then, she remembered the face of an older man, pale and thin, always studying and reading, with a misshapen left shoulder. This was the face of her husband, who promised to meet her in America, although she had left for the new country more than two years ago. Next, she remembered her first days in the new city in America, with its narrow streets, the tall, gray houses, the huge churches, and the public buildings, rather old and plain. Lastly, she remembered her punishment, staring at the crowd of people, showing her looks of hate. Yes, it was she, Hester Prynne, they were staring at, holding a small child in her arms, and the letter "A" in scarlet, elegantly sewn with gold thread upon her chest!

Could it be true? She held the child closely, then looked down at the scarlet letter, and even touched it with her finger, to assure herself that the child and the shame were real. Yes!—These were her realities—all else in her life was gone!

(end of section)