The Scarlet Letter: Part 1

Ah New England. Untouched by white people. Every time a new land is settled, it is seen as a pristine utopia, and as such, needs a prison. One cannot have paradise, of course, unless one regularly culls those who do not conform. Boston was no different, and within twenty years of settlement, the prison had shown more use than any other building, and far less cheer. This is saying something considering how Puritans love to make things as dreary as humanly possible.

Outside this wooden prison stood a wild rosebush, whose blossoms welcomed prisoners on their arrival, and gave their sweet scent to the condemned on their way to the gallows. One notable prisoner you may have heard of was Ann Hutchison, who preached that faith brought one closer to God than good works. The righteous among the town showed her how wrong she was by doing the good work of declaring her a heretic and banishing her to the wilderness, where she later died. Faith – 0, Good works – …also 0.

On the plus side, she got to smell the roses on her way out. We offer you now, dear reader, a tantalizing whiff of these roses in an obvious attempt at foreshadowing.

In the year of our Lord 1642, the townsfolk of Boston stand in front of the prison. Their grizzled physiognomies might be mistaken for scowls, but in this time and place it was just your typical RPF (Resting Puritan Face) looking grumpy like God intended. Also, did you have to look up physiognomies? I did. It means the human face. Not even a particular kind of face. Just plain old face. Seriously Hawthorne? Did they pay you by the letter? You couldn’t just say face?

Anyway, we are about to meet one Hester Prynne, an adulteress who had been sentenced by the town magistrates to wear a red piece of cloth with the letter A embroidered in gold on her chest. The pHySiOgNoMiEs of the men in the crowd might look stern and cruel, but the women are downright terrifying, and equipped with dagger stares. Picture a bunch of Incredible Hulks in cowls and petticoats, only paler. Because British. While awaiting her appearance, the group of scowling scary women stand around saying how she was let off easy. All she has to do is stand on stage for a few hours in the town square so everyone can throw shade, and then spend the rest of her life as a miserable outcast. To ensure that she gets perpetually scorned, she is sentenced to wear a Letter A for Adulteress on her chest from now on. Talk about a light punishment. Should have been put to death, or at the very least have a hot iron pressed on her forehead. That would be the compassionate thing to do after all. Instead they’ll have to settle for judging her with their judgy judginess.

The prison doors open and out comes Hester Prynne. She is so beautiful and well dressed that she is immediately enveloped in slow motion with soft lighting and a fan blowing to wave her hair behind her. She might be forced to wear a scarlet letter, but she does it in style. It is done in fancy golden embroidery. All the scary women get super jelly and start proclaiming that she has no right to be pretty and should look all haggard and frumpy like them. They see her rollin’, they hatin’. They patrollin’ staring at her scarlet letter. A few were even able to make out the small inscription reading ” ^ My eyes are up here ^ “

She is walked to the pillory at the center of town, and even though she is not forced to be locked into it, she has to stand there while everyone  stares at her in RPF. In some other society it might have been an opportunity for jest or mockery, but no one remembered to bring their sense of humor with them when they left England and they have been awaiting a fresh shipment ever since. She had prepared herself for laughter and scorn, but the silently judgmental pHySiOgNoMiEs (gotta get my money’s worth from that five dollar shilling word) are far worse. She wishes it wasn’t real and her mind wanders to yesteryear and her home back in England. She especially dwells on an unnamed old man with a deformed shoulder hunched over papers in a dimly lit office. The author interrupts her reverie to remind her that she has 160 more pages to go, so it’s time to wrap up the trip down memory lane and get on with the next chapter.

A white guy at the edge of the scene stands wearing a mismatched outfit of tattered clothes and animal hide that is basically the 17th century version of a Mad Max costume. Hester notices that the he has a slightly deformed shoulder and she is clearly terrified of him. The old man from her reverie? I’m guessing he was involved in some past trauma. The man makes a shushing motion to her then turns to a villager standing next to him. Village person doesn’t get a name, so I am assuming he is listed as village person #1 in the credits:

They wander off into the crowd and the scene switches back to Hester’s POV. She has been fixating on Mad Max in horror and is suddenly glad of the protection of the crowd. She is so focused on him that she hardly notices the bellowing from senior clergyman John Wilson. He is calling for her from the balcony of the meeting house overlooking the town square.

The author then describes how Dimmsdale is super timid and shy, so I bet he is loving the spotlight.

Dimmsdale: “Wonderous strength and generosity of a woman’s heart! She will not speak!” (actual quote)

He proceeds to play his greatest hits on adultery, then they lead Hester back to the prison to think about what she did.

Hester is all in a tizzy, and threats of further punishment until her morale improves do not help. She is having a pretty rough time of things in her cell, and the baby is all freaked out too, so they call the doctor. Guess who the doctor is? Mad Max! He’s staying at the prison too till they figure out a place for him to live.

When he enters the room, a definite chill follows that leaves Hester cold. We learn the Mad Max’s actual name is Roger Chillingworth. Really? The guy who gives Hester the chills is called Chillingworth? That’s up there with Darth Plagueis and General Grievous for most obvious bad guy name ever. Who’s next? Darth Sidious?

For those not familiar with Star Wars, those are all actual names of villains from the brilliant mind of George Lucas.

Darth Chillingworth is left alone with Hester. In a shocking twist that I am sure none of us saw coming, it turns out HE is the missing husband of Hester! Dunn Dunn dunnnnnnn!!!!

He first makes some medicine for the crying baby and asks her to give it to the child. She is super sus of Darth Chillingworth’s intentions and refuses, so he administers it instead. It turns out to be actual medicine and not poison, and he next offers her some medicine.

She drinks her medicine and they both sit.

Hester is released from prison, and walking out the doors without anyone paying attention to her is in some ways worse than being the object of scorn. At least she knew that was temporary, and she just had to suck it up for a single day. Now she knows she will have to carry her shame day in and day out, with no end in sight. It’s like the hobbit meal schedule, but for shame. Shame for breakfast, shame for second breakfast, shame for elevensies. Oh look, more shame! It’s like never-ending Thanksgiving leftovers of shame.

She is free to travel anywhere she wants. Like, literally anywhere. Like, somewhere she doesn’t have to wear the scarlet letter. She doesn’t though because Hawthorne seems to think it is a rule of humanity that people must stay where horrible events in their life have occurred. I haven’t found that to be the case in my life, but then again, he seemed to have a pretty dim view of Salem yet still came back to live, so I guess you do you Hawthorne.

Hawthorne also suggests that Hester stays cuz she has convinced herself she must stay in penance. Also, that’s where the book takes place and she is constrained by the whims of the author. Thus it was that instead of traveling elsewhere, she finds an old abandoned cabin in an isolated patch of fallow ground and claims it for her she-shed. As has been established, she can do fancy needlework, and since fancy needlework is forbidden by Puritans along with anything else fun, it is naturally highly sought after by the rich. Turns out she can make a pretty good living selling ceremonial clothes for the governor and judges who punished her in the first place. That seems kind of hypocritical but oh well. She is so good at it that her work becomes all the rage in town, except for bridal veils, cuz they gotta draw the line somewhere I guess. Love the sin, hate the sinner and all.

Hawthorne states “Women derive a pleasure, incomprehensible to the other sex, from the delicate toil of the needle.” That line is fairly amusing to me since embroidery is one of my hobbies. This piece that I made for my sister last fall seems especially fitting:

Hester quickly gains the reputation as the neighborhood crazy cat lady as well as maker of top notch gloves. I assume they are for slapping someone in order to challenge them to a duel. This has to be done in style, of course. In her spare time she makes clothes for the poor, who do a good job of reviling her in thanks for her efforts.

Children gawk at her, customers go all passive aggressive Karen on her, clergyman go out of their way to ask her to send them a postcard from Hell when she gets there. The usual forgiving attitude that the time is known for pervades. She seems to have developed a supernatural sense for the unseen scarlet letters worn by others. Sudden sense of malice? Looks up to find an old clergyman. Sense of shame? Notices a kindred maiden shyly glancing and blushing. She starts to believe they are all as guilty as her, just more secret about it. They all rest easy knowing there is someone more guilty than themselves, and as we all know, seeing someone else’s suffering gives us all a glowing sense of satisfaction, like God intended. Or something.

Here we meet the infant, name Pearl. As an old woman Pearl described her childhood:

Wait, that’s a Reba McEntire song. But it basically fits. Hester does make her super fancy clothes, and she is described as a beautiful child. Also, she is a wild child. The other children in the village are mean to Pearl because they know she is an outcast, even if they don’t know why, and she retaliates by throwing rocks at them. When not fighting tiny pint-sized Puritans, she has imaginary Puritans in the trees and weeds and whatnot and attacks them with ferocity. It’s like having imaginary friends, only the opposite of that.

Pearl revels in torturing those around her, even her mother. The first thing Pearl noticed as a baby was the scarlet letter on her mother’s chest, and Hester keeps noticing a flash of devil smile and evil intent in her eyes. If this book was a comic, it would be called Adulteress and the Devil Child. I would totally buy that comic.

Now that the life and routine of Hester and the Devil Child has been fully described, what wacky antics will the two get up to? Find out next week in…The Scarlet Letter!!!