Chapter 21The New England Holiday

Early that morning, the day the new Governor was supposed to take office, Hester Prynne and little Pearl showed up in the marketplace. It was already packed with craftspeople and regular folks from town.

There were also a bunch of rough-looking people wearing deerskin - clearly from the forest settlements surrounding the colony’s little city. For seven years, Hester had always worn the same plain gray dress. The color, and something about the way it was made, made her almost disappear into the crowd.

But then, the scarlet letter would pull her back into focus, shining a light on her from a moral standpoint. Her face, which everyone in town knew so well, had that same quiet look they were used to seeing. It was like a mask, or maybe like the frozen expression of a dead woman.

That's because, as far as anyone was concerned, Hester was already gone, detached from the world she still seemed to be a part of.

It’s possible, on this one day, that there was an expression no one had ever seen before. It wasn’t even clear enough to notice now, unless someone super observant had first read her heart. Then looked for a matching change in her face and how she carried herself.

This kind of spiritual seer might have thought that, after seven long, miserable years of enduring the stares of the crowd - out of necessity, as a punishment, and because she felt she had to - she was now facing it one last time, freely and willingly. To turn all that pain into a kind of victory.

"Take one last look at the scarlet letter and the woman who wears it!" - the people’s victim and lifelong slave, as they believed her - might have said to them. "Soon, you won’t be able to reach her!"

Just a few hours, and the deep, mysterious ocean will drown and hide forever the symbol you made her wear on her chest! It wouldn’t be too crazy to think Hester might feel a little sad when she was about to finally be free from the pain that had become so much a part of her."

Maybe she’s got this urge to take one last, deep breath of the bitter cup she’s been forced to drink for almost her whole adult life. The wine of life, that would be offered to her next, would have to be amazing - rich, delicious, and exciting - in a fancy, golden cup.

Or else, it would just leave her feeling tired and weak after all the bitterness she’s been given, like a super-strong medicine.

Pearl was totally decked out, like, radiating joy. You’d never guess this bright, sunny vibe came from something gloomy and gray. Or that the creativity it took to make her clothes - so gorgeous and delicate - was the same energy that made Hester’s simple robe so unique.

The dress just fit Pearl, seemed like a natural extension of her personality, like you couldn’t separate the colors from a butterfly’s wings or the bright patterns from a flower. It was all part of her. And today, she was extra hyped, like a diamond sparkling with every beat of her mom's heart.

Kids always feel what’s going on with the people around them. Pearl, being the gem on Hester’s restless heart, showed it in the way her spirit danced - something nobody could see in Hester’s calm face. This energy made her zip around, more like a bird than walking beside her mom.

She kept bursting into wild, wordless shouts, sometimes super loud. When they got to the marketplace, she got even more restless, noticing all the hustle and bustle. It usually felt more like a big, empty field in front of a town hall than a busy marketplace.

"What’s going on, Mom?" she asked. "Why’s everyone ditching work today? Is it like, a holiday for the whole world? Look, there’s the blacksmith! He cleaned up his face and put on his Sunday clothes, and he looks like he’s ready to party if someone would just tell him how!"

"And there's Master Brackett, the old jailer, nodding and smiling at me. Why’s he doing that, Mom? "He remembers you as a little baby, my child," Hester replied. "He shouldn’t smile at me, though - that creepy, dark, mean-looking old guy! Pearl said.

"He can nod at you, I guess, since you’re wearing gray and the scarlet letter. But look, Mom, so many faces - lots of strangers, and even some Indians and sailors! What are they all here to do in the marketplace? "They’re waiting for the procession," Hester said.

"The Governor and the magistrates are going by, along with the ministers and all the important and good people, with music and soldiers marching in front. "Will the minister be there? Pearl asked. "Will he hold out both his hands to me, like he did when you took me from the brook?"

"He’s going to be there, sweetheart," her mother answered. "But he won’t greet you today, and you shouldn’t greet him either." "He’s such a weird, sad dude," the child said, almost to herself.

"At night, he calls us to him and holds your hand and mine, just like when we stood on that scaffold over there. And in the deep forest, where only the old trees can hear and a strip of sky can see, he talks to you, sitting on a pile of moss!"

"And he kisses my forehead, too, so that the little brook could barely wash it off! But here, in the sunshine and with all these people, he doesn’t even know us - and we can’t know him! He’s a strange, sad dude, with his hand always over his heart!"

"Shush, Pearl! You don’t get it," her mom said. "Don’t think about the minister right now. Look around - everyone’s so happy today. The kids came from school, and the adults from work and the fields, just to have a good time. Because today, a new guy’s in charge."

"And like, it’s always been this way since people started gathering into countries - they celebrate and party, like things are finally gonna be good for the world." It was true what her mom said about how cheerful everyone was.

This was a super festive time of year - and it had been for like, two centuries. The Puritans crammed all the fun and public joy they could into it. They kind of cleared away the usual gloom, so for just one holiday, they didn’t seem as serious as most other places when things were tough.

Okay, so maybe we’re blowing the gloomy vibes a bit. The people in Boston’s marketplace weren’t exactly born into a Puritan gloom. They were English, straight up - their dads had lived through the awesome, sunny days of the Elizabethan era.

Back then, England was living its best life, totally regal, magnificent, and joyful, like the world had ever seen. If they'd gone with their natural tastes, the New England settlers would have celebrated big events with bonfires, feasts, parades, and shows.

They could’ve mixed fun with serious stuff, adding a wild, bright design to the formal events a country puts on. There was a little attempt at this when they started the colony's political year.

It was like a faded memory of something grand, a watered-down version of what they'd seen in London - not a royal coronation, but a Lord Mayor's show. You could see it in the traditions they started when new leaders took office.

The founders - the leaders, the priests, the soldiers - thought it was important to show off a bit, to look the part. That was the style back then, a way to show respect and importance. Everyone came out in a procession, adding some much-needed dignity to the new government.

Also, the people were allowed to chill out a bit, if not straight-up encouraged, from their tough, hard work. It was like their jobs and their religion were the same thing, all the time.

You wouldn't find the kind of fun they had back in England during Elizabeth's or James's time - no plays, no minstrels with their harps and old stories, no gleemen with monkeys dancing, no jugglers doing magic tricks, and definitely no Merry Andrews cracking jokes that were probably hundreds of years old.

The law and the way people felt would shut that stuff down fast. Still, the people had smiles on their faces, maybe a little grim, but big smiles too.

They still had games they’d seen and played back in England at the country fairs and village greens - games they wanted to keep going here because they built courage and strength. You’d see wrestling matches, like the ones from Cornwall and Devon, popping up around the marketplace.

In one spot, some friends were going at it with quarterstaffs. And - the coolest thing of all - on the pillory platform, which we've talked about before, two serious fighters were starting a show with bucklers and broadswords.

But, to everyone’s disappointment, the town beadle stepped in and shut it down. He wasn’t about letting the law be disrespected by messing around in such a special place.

Overall, it’s safe to say that, back then, people weren't exactly celebrating. Their parents knew how to have fun, though. But honestly, they’d probably still have been pretty good at holidays, even compared to us, so many years later. The generation right after the first settlers? Total Puritans.

They were so serious, they really darkened the whole vibe of the country. And it’s taken years to shake that off. We still haven't quite figured out how to be cheerful again.

The scene at the marketplace was mostly a sad gray, brown, or black - the colors of the English settlers. But there was some variety.

A group of Indians - decked out in their cool, embroidered deerskin robes, wampum belts, red and yellow ochre, and feathers - stood apart, looking super serious, even more so than the Puritans. But these painted folks weren't even the wildest thing happening.

That title went to some sailors - part of the crew from a ship from the Spanish Main - who’d come to check out Election Day. They looked rough, with faces tanned dark by the sun and huge beards.

Their baggy pants were held up by belts, often with a gold buckle, and they always had a long knife - sometimes even a sword - on them. Peeking out from under their wide-brimmed palm-leaf hats were eyes that had a kind of wild energy, even when they were being friendly and laughing.

They didn't care about the rules everyone else followed. They'd smoke tobacco right under the beadle’s nose - a move that would have cost a townsman a shilling - and they’d chug wine or schnapps from their pocket flasks, handing them out to the crowd around them.

It was kinda crazy how loose the rules were back then, even though people called it a rigid age. Sailors were basically given a free pass - not just for goofing around on land, but for way more intense stuff out at sea.

That sailor back then? He’s basically about to get busted as a pirate, right here. Seriously, there's not much question about it. This ship’s crew, even if they weren't the absolute worst of the bunch, totally did some shady stuff.

We’re talking about raiding Spanish ships - stuff that would land them in serious trouble in a courtroom today.

The sea back then was wild, totally doing its own thing. It surged, foamed, and just rolled with the wind, with barely any rules from people. A buccaneer could ditch his life at sea and become a stand-up, respectable guy on land whenever he wanted.

Even when he was living it up, no one thought twice about dealing with him or hanging out. The Puritan elders, in their black cloaks, stiff collars, and tall hats, actually smiled at the noise and rough behavior of these cheerful sailors.

It wasnn't a big deal when someone as respectable as old Roger Chillingworth, the doctor, was seen chatting closely with the captain of a shady ship . The captain was seriously the most decked-out guy around.

Ribbons everywhere on his clothes, gold lace on his hat, which was also circled with a gold chain and topped with a feather. He had a sword at his side and a sword cut on his forehead, which he seemed to want to show off instead of hiding.

A regular person couldn't have pulled off that look and swaggered around like that without getting grilled by a judge, probably ending up with a fine, jail time, or even the stocks. But everyone just saw it as part of the shipmaster's vibe - like a fish’s shiny scales.

After leaving the doctor, the commander of the Bristol ship wandered through the marketplace. He happened to spot Hester Prynne and recognized her, immediately calling out. As usual, a small space - like an invisible bubble - had formed around her.

People were bumping into each other nearby, but no one dared to get too close. It was a clear sign of the isolation the scarlet letter created for her, both because of her own quietness and because people instinctively kept their distance.

This time, it was perfect, letting Hester and the sailor talk privately without anyone overhearing. Hester Prynne’s reputation had changed so much that even the town’s most moral woman wouldn't have caused less gossip by talking with him.

"Hey, mistress," the sailor said, "I told the steward to get one more berth ready for you! No worries about scurvy or ship-fever on this trip!"

"Between the ship's surgeon and this other doctor, our only danger will be from medicine - we’re loaded with apothecary stuff, which I traded for with a Spanish ship. "What are you getting at? Hester asked, looking more surprised than she let on. "Do you have another passenger?"

"Don’t you know?" the shipmaster exclaimed. "This doctor - Chillingworth, he calls himself - wants to pay for a spot in my cabin with you!"

Yeah, yeah, you must’ve known; he told me he’s with your crew and a close friend to the guy you were talking about - the one who’s in trouble with these grumpy Puritan leaders! They’re very well acquainted, it seems, Hester replied calmly, though she was seriously freaked out.

"They’ve lived together for a long time."

Nothing else happened between the sailor and Hester Prynne. But then, she spotted old Roger Chillingworth. He was standing way back in the market square, and he was smiling at her.

It was a smile that - even across the busy square, through all the chatter and laughter, and everyone's different thoughts and feelings - felt super creepy and mysterious.