The Scarlet Letter
Page 97It was perceived, too, that while Hester never put forward even
the humblest title to share in the world's privileges--further
than to breathe the common air and earn daily bread for little
Pearl and herself by the faithful labour of her hands--she was
quick to acknowledge her sisterhood with the race of man
whenever benefits were to be conferred. None so ready as she to
give of her little substance to every demand of poverty, even
though the bitter-hearted pauper threw back a gibe in requital
of the food brought regularly to his door, or the garments
wrought for him by the fingers that could have embroidered a
monarch's robe. None so self-devoted as Hester when pestilence
stalked through the town. In all seasons of calamity, indeed,
whether general or of individuals, the outcast of society at
once found her place. She came, not as a guest, but as a
trouble, as if its gloomy twilight were a medium in which she
was entitled to hold intercourse with her fellow-creature. There
glimmered the embroidered letter, with comfort in its unearthly
ray. Elsewhere the token of sin, it was the taper of the sick
chamber. It had even thrown its gleam, in the sufferer's bard
extremity, across the verge of time. It had shown him where to
set his foot, while the light of earth was fast becoming dim,
and ere the light of futurity could reach him. In such
emergencies Hester's nature showed itself warm and rich--a
well-spring of human tenderness, unfailing to every real demand,
and inexhaustible by the largest. Her breast, with its badge of
shame, was but the softer pillow for the head that needed one.
She was self-ordained a Sister of Mercy, or, we may rather say,
world nor she looked forward to this result. The letter was the
symbol of her calling. Such helpfulness was found in her--so
much power to do, and power to sympathise--that many people
refused to interpret the scarlet A by its original
signification. They said that it meant Abel, so strong was
Hester Prynne, with a woman's strength.
It was only the darkened house that could contain her. When
sunshine came again, she was not there. Her shadow had faded
across the threshold. The helpful inmate had departed, without
one backward glance to gather up the meed of gratitude, if any
were in the hearts of those whom she had served so zealously.
Meeting them in the street, she never raised her head to receive
their greeting. If they were resolute to accost her, she laid
pride, but was so like humility, that it produced all the
softening influence of the latter quality on the public mind.
The public is despotic in its temper; it is capable of denying
common justice when too strenuously demanded as a right; but
quite as frequently it awards more than justice, when the appeal
is made, as despots love to have it made, entirely to its
generosity. Interpreting Hester Prynne's deportment as an appeal
of this nature, society was inclined to show its former victim a
more benign countenance than she cared to be favoured with, or,
perchance, than she deserved.