Title: HESTER AT HER NEEDLE
Tags:
Blog Entry: HESTER AT HER NEEDLE HESTER PRYNNE'S term of confinement china notebook battery was now at an end. Her prison-door was thrown open, and she came forth into the sunshine, which, falling on all alike, seemed, to her sick and morbid heart, as if meant for no other purpose than to reveal the scarlet letter on her breast. Perhaps there was a more real torture in her first unattended footsteps from the threshold of the prison, than even in the procession and spectacle that have been described, where she was made the common Sailor Moon Cosplay infamy, at which all mankind was summoned to point its finger. Then, she was supported by an unnatural tension of the nerves, and by all the combative energy of her character, which enabled her to convert the scene into a kind of lurid triumph. It was, moreover, a separate and insulated event, car electronics to occur but once in her lifetime, and to meet which, therefore, reckless of economy, she might call up the vital strength that would have sufficed for many quiet years. The very law that condemned her- a giant of stern features, but with vigour to support, as well as to annihilate, in his iron arm- had held her up, through the terrible ordeal of her ignominy. But now, with this unattended walk from her prison-door, began the daily custom; and she must either sustain and carry it forward by the ordinary resources of her nature, or sink beneath it. She could no Stainless steel pipe longer borrow from the future to help her through the present grief. To-morrow would bring its own trial with it; so would the next day, and so would the next; each its own trial, and yet the very same that was now so unutterably grievous to be borne. The days of the far-off future would toil onward, still with the same burden for her to take up, and bear along with her, but never to fling down; for the accumulating days, and added years, Bridal dresses would pile up their misery upon the heap of shame. Throughout them all, giving up her individuality, she would become the general symbol at which the preacher and moralist might point, and in which they might vivify and embody their images of woman's frailty and sinful passion. Thus the young and pure would be taught to look at her, with the scarlet letter flaming on her breast- at her, the child of honourable parents- at her, the mother of a babe, that would hereafter be a woman- at her, who had once been innocent- as the figure, the body, the reality of sin. And over her grave, evening dresses the infamy that she must carry thither would be her only monument. It may seem marvellous, that, with the world before her- kept by no restrictive clause of her condemnation within the limits of the Puritan settlement, so remote and so obscure- free to return to her birthplace, or to any other European land, and there hide her character and identity under a new exterior, as completely as if formal dresses emerging into another state of being- and having also the passes of the dark, inscrutable forest open to her, where the wildness of her nature might assimilate itself with a people whose customs and life were alien from the law that had condemned her- it may seem marvellous, that this woman should still call that place her home, where, and where only, she must needs be the type of shame.
VIEW FULL VERSION: Link