Journals Letter Up

Beneath the aforementioned papers found in the Custom House, I later noticed some scattered pages of a diary, which I believe to be from the personal record of one Rev. Arthur Dimmesdale. Though some pages were illegible, and I could not establish a definite chronology, I believe they were written in the order presented. I reproduce the exact text here:

I.

What have I done?

After a life of self-denial and discipline, I have made a grave error. Oh God! Let my secret never be known. I have let myself be tempted, let my passion overwhelm my senses… true, I have always been given to allowing my emotions too much sway over my actions, but never have I done anything such as this! But then, never have I felt this way for anyone…. Many women are beautiful; I have met many such women, but though I may have been taken by there beauty, they had no special power over me. But Hester is something apart from the others; she is… indescribable. Whenever she draws near, I am suddenly refreshed, as if the mere sight of her is medicine to any afflictions I possess, and when she speaks, I cannot help but be fascinated with every word she utters. Her manner, her presence, or whatever it may be is wonderful to behold. No! This accursed infatuation is what has brought me to fall anew; I am like Adam, betrayed by the grace of woman to join in a sin so grave as to mar my very soul. I, who should be a model for my parish, am the worst among them! How can I serve them as their light, when I have fallen so far into darkness?

And yet, horrid as it seems, I cannot bring myself to despise her, nor to reject what I have done. My wretched passion has not lessened; I even feel that I may love her more now than before. Though I scorn the thought of what I have done, at the same time I cannot suppress a feeling of sheer, unfettered joy at the remembrance of that night. At the same time, my guilt greatens all the more, for to allow these unholy desires is to reprise my deed; as Matthew said, to hold such passion in one’s heart is to act on it. At least I can comfort myself with one thought: Though I shall be tormented by my sin, at least no one else shall know of it. This small consolation may assuage at least some small portion of my guilt.

II.

It has been discovered. The deed that has tormented me, does still; its weight upon my breast is

sometimes palpable, and at times such as these, I find that my hand has unconsciously begun to clutch painfully upon my chest, as if to tear out my impure heart, and reveal my deception, on which is surely written my foul deed. But I have kept my secret, though it pains me more than words can tell. Until today, when Hester was revealed for an adulteress. For nigh on three months now, she has kept our secret, and we have not spoken since that night. Now, though, the truth can no longer be hidden. For in her grows a child, the product of our affair. Though her husband has not been seen for several years, she is nonetheless his wife; and so the child proves her unfaithfulness. God has designed to punish us, not only in Hell, but on Earth, for our crime; how else could a child result from our singular act?!

Of course, the women noticed how her growth was not that of the glutton, but of the mother. They sent her to the courts, and they confirmed the child’s existence. And so she has been tried, and imprisoned. Though I feared the magistrates would execute her, as is the law, they have shown mercy; she will instead bear a token of her deed, as is the custom in lesser crimes. She refuses to name me as her partner; I think they may even have spared her life in part from curiosity. Hester will soon be released. The child was bourn in jail, and Hester has called her “Pearl”, from what I can gather. I have spoken frequently to my parishioners on the topic, to learn what I can; they attribute this to my grief for Hester, whose sin would normally be a blemish upon our church. But no sin seems to matter anymore, compared to mine.

III.

Hester is released again. I do not know if this bodes good or ill, but she has refused my plea to reveal the

culprit. When she faced the multitude, I tried to tell her of my cowardice, and entreated upon her to reveal me as her partner, to spare me from the task; but she refused. I am relieved, but at the same time I wish sorely that she had told the onlookers my secret, so I would not be pained with the burden of keeping our secret for another moment. Even now, I wish I could simply run to the pulpit and shout to the parish, and tell them of my sin. But how can I let them know of my betrayal? for if they knew how evil were the deeds of their leader, they would surely reject me along with my teachings. Am I to destroy the faith I have worked so hard and long to nurture? No, I cannot. I shall take my secret with me to the grave.

My anguish, which until now I had thought mental, has manifested itself in other ways: I grow ill, though I know not the cause; I have deep, unabating pains in my heart, at random times. All who know me tell me of apparent decay in my appearance, and I feel this decay taking hold of my body with every passing day. I know this mysterious ailment must be the symptom of my inner disease: my corrupted soul. How can such a disease be relieved? I cannot continue living under such a painful burden, both physically and mentally! But I know no medicine will relieve my troubled soul. Indeed, if this ailment will be my end, I should almost be glad; I need no longer bear this secret. I am worried, however, on account of the child. I spied baby Pearl today, with her mother. This is the second time I have seen them since the events at the town’s center; as usual, Hester avoided looking at me in the eye, instead lowering her gaze. The babe, whom she carried in her arms, seemed to have affixed her attention upon the letter that Hester wears. She has been preoccupied with it whenever I have seen her. Does the child somehow know of the letter’s meaning? Her mere existence is a reminder of our deed; has she become attached to that other such reminder? And if so, why? In any case, her fascination with the letter unnerves me…as if I am ever sound of mind anymore. Ha!

IV.

A Leech has attached itself to me. So passionately has our new physic, Rodger Chillingworth, elicited my consent

for his care, that I have allowed him to study my disease, in hopes that he may find a cure. We have moved to the same abode, a small house neighboring the graveyard, owned by one of my parishioners. We talk often; sometimes we walk and converse while he gathers herbs for him strange potions, and at other times we sit at the house and speak

about whatever subjects may pass into our minds. It is the one relief I have these days, our intellectual conversations. When we discuss any matter, I welcome his perspectives, which are rich and provocative. Though I cannot fully accept some of his more unorthodox ideas, I do enjoy escaping from the inherently limited viewpoint I acquire through only conversing with our parishioners who, though pure in faith, do not always exhibit depth of reason in their dialogue. Still, I have noticed something wrong with my physician; probably nothing, but still, cannot shake a certain feeling I have concerning him. I have sometimes noticed, as we talk, that his countenance is somehow different than it was when I first saw him in town. There is no definitive change in his appearance, nothing concrete, but when I look at him, he radiates an unpleasantness, a malevolence, that frightens me. I cannot give any reason for this impression, so I have discredited it; but still it haunts me. Indeed, I hear whispers from the townsfolk, snatches of conversation, which seem to indicate that they have also noticed this change. It is strange, indeed. And he seems to have seen something wrong with me. Recently, we spoke concerning the nature of my disease. At one point, he seemed to accuse me of concealing information from him. I was terrified, although I hope that I did not show him any sign of this; there is only one secret that I keep. He seemed sure that I had some guilty secret, and that this was causing my infirmary. Though I do not believe he realizes how terrible a secret it is, he has guessed what no one else has. Unfortunately, I walked away from the conversation, which might have aroused his suspicions; however, he has not drawn any unfounded conclusion, and in fact I realize he was bound to make such an inference;

he is, after all, correct. I returned hastily, and begged his pardon for allowing my emotions to cloud my judgment. Our friendship is once again established. On the day I have spoken of, I also observed little Pearl playing with her mother. As I have observed before, she has a fixation upon her mother’s scarlet letter. She was throwing flowers at it, and the burrs stuck to the fabric; her own game of darts. But oh, Hester undoubtedly felt each burr as a piercing needle in her heart…. The impish child seems to cause her no end of grief.

V.

So close! I have nearly rid myself of my burden, so many times! My guilt has driven me to new pains. The physic’s care, which I had at first

relished, has only served in recent times to enhance my suffering. He of course means well, but there is an edge now to his inquiries. His questions, though innocent enough, remind me constantly of my sin; I am truly going mad, for even such innocuous inquiries only further my diseased state. It is as if he plans to drive me into insanity, but I know that even for him, this cannot be possible. No, no one knows my wretched secret. And yet how I wish they knew! Many times, I have found myself a hair’s breadth away from revelation, when I deliver my sermons. Alas, if only I could summon the courage to communicate my misdeed to the parish! I would be free of the burden of secrecy; I might not mind so the consequences… However, speaking of my sermons, there is a dubious benefit that comes from my sad situation, though of course it is not nearly worth the anguish that I suffer. I have found that I can empathize now with the sinners of my parish. Until now, I could not conceive how anyone could commit any heinous sin; however, having committed such a

sin myself, I now comprehend how our human weaknesses may sometimes lead even the most pious into sin. Oh, the bitter irony of it all! I am a better teacher now than I was, because I have failed in my allotted role as a moral guide!

VI.

Something strange has occurred. Today, I was possessed with such an urge as I could not rationalize; as if in a

dream, I returned to the scaffold, the site of Hester’s ignominy. As I stood upon it, I realized that no matter how long I stayed, there was little chance of anyone finding me; there was no penitence to be had for me upon this scaffold. But soon I found myself slipping into delusion; after all, I was already in a trace-like state. I thought I carried upon my breast a token such as Hester’s; a scarlet “A”. This nightmarish perception frightened me so that I shrieked aloud; surely, there could have been no one that did not hear my piercing cry, for I think it must have shattered the peace of the early morning both far and wide. However, no one came, to my relief; I would not be discovered. As I stood upon the scaffold, Wilson, coming from the Governor’s deathbed, soon passed me; he nearly saw me, but he soon continued on his way, past the scaffold and back home. I stayed on the scaffold for some time, though I cannot determine why; perhaps I thought to make penance, as Hester had; but if so, it was poor penance, as no one saw me there (though I imagined what would have occurred if they had; no doubt, the scene would have been worth observing). No one, that is, but Hester herself, and Pearl as well. For as I stood upon the scaffold, they passed me, also having visited the governor’s deathbed, and I called to them. Pearl and Hester soon joined me on the

scaffold; I cannot help but think that this is how I should have met them when first Hester scaled the platform. Then several things happened that I could not explain. Pearl, with her uncanny instinct for asking astoundingly appropriate questions, asked if I would join them on the scaffold in daylight. How did she know that I could not do such a thing; that this was my one fear? I replied in the best way that I could; I would expose my sin on the judgment day. She seems to understand more than any child should… But in any case, what happened next was even stranger, and as uncanny. For in the sky appeared a meteor, which carved out a red “A”. This is a more obvious sign than any other; our crime is meant to be displayed before our fellow men. God in heaven will make it so! The last incident of the early morn was the sighting of Chillingworth, who I seem to be unable to hide anything from. He saw us together on the platform, and I think that he realized what it meant; he is no fool. He is horrifying, and I am sure now that he is truly set against me, for he has become malevolent in his practices. Hester seemed to know him; I implored that she reveal his true nature to me, but for some reason she could not. Oh, why does he torment me?