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Modern Text
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Before Hester Prynne could call together her thoughts, and consider
what was practicable to be done in this new and startling aspect of affairs, the
sound of military music was heard approaching along a contiguous street. It
denoted the advance of the procession of magistrates and citizens, on its way
towards the meeting-house; where, in compliance with a custom thus early
established, and ever since observed, the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale was to deliver
an Election Sermon.
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Before Hester could gather her thoughts and consider what she ought
to do with this new and startling information, the sound of military music
approached along a nearby street. It signaled the procession of magistrates and
citizens on its way toward the meetinghouse. According to a custom established
early and observed ever since, the Reverend Mr. Dimmesdale would there deliver
an Election Sermon.
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Soon the head of the procession showed itself, with a slow and stately march,
turning a corner, and making its way across the market-place. First came the
music. It comprised a variety of instruments, perhaps imperfectly adapted to one
another, and played with no great skill, but yet attaining the great object for
which the harmony of drum and clarion addresses itself to the multitude,—that of
imparting a higher and more heroic air to the scene of life that passes before
the eye. Little Pearl at first clapped her hands, but then lost, for an instant,
the restless agitation that had kept her in a continual effervescence throughout
the morning; she gazed silently, and seemed to be borne upward, like a floating
sea-bird, on the long heaves and swells of sound. But she was brought back to
her former mood by the shimmer of the sunshine on the weapons and bright armour
of the military company, which followed after the music, and formed the honorary
escort of the procession. This body of soldiery—which still sustains a corporate
existence, and marches down from past ages with an ancient and honorable
fame—was composed of no mercenary materials. Its ranks were filled with
gentlemen, who felt the stirrings of martial impulse, and sought to establish a
kind of College of Arms, where, as in an association of Knights Templars, they
might learn the science, and, so far as peaceful exercise would teach them, the
practices of war. The high estimation then placed upon the military character
might be seen in the lofty port of each individual member of the company. Some
of them, indeed, by their services in the Low Countries and on other fields of
European warfare, had fairly won their title to assume the name and pomp of
soldiership. The entire array, moreover, clad in burnished steel, and with
plumage nodding over their bright morions, had a brilliancy of effect which no
modern display can aspire to equal.
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The front of the procession soon arrived with a slow and stately march. It
turned a corner and made its way across the marketplace. The band came first. It
contained a variety of instruments, poorly selected and badly played. Yet they
achieved their objective, giving a higher and more heroic impression to the
scene. Little Pearl clapped her hands at first but then for a moment lost the
energy that had kept her in continual motion all morning. She gazed silently,
seemingly carried on the waves of sound and as a seabird is carried on the wind.
She was brought back to earth by the gleam of the sunshine on the weapons and
bright armor of the military company. The soldiers followed the band as an
honorary escort for the procession. The company, which still exists today,
contained no mercenaries. Its ranks were filled with gentlemen who wished to be
soldiers and sought to establish a sort of College of Arms where they might
learn the theory and, as far as peaceful exercises could teach, practice of war.
The pride each member of the company carried himself with testified to the great
value placed on military character at that time. Some of them had served in
European wars and could rightly claim the title and stature of a soldier. The
entire company, dressed in polished steel with feathers topping their shining
helmets, had a brilliant effect that no modern display can hope to
equal.
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And yet the men of civil eminence, who came immediately behind the military
escort, were better worth a thoughtful observer’s eye. Even in outward demeanour
they showed a stamp of majesty that made the warrior’s haughty stride look
vulgar, if not absurd. It was an age when what we call talent had far less
consideration than now, but the massive materials which produce stability and
dignity of character a great deal more. The people possessed, by hereditary
right, the quality of reverence; which, in their descendants, if it survive at
all, exists in smaller proportion, and with a vastly diminished force in the
selection and estimate of public men. The change may be for good or ill, and is
partly, perhaps, for both. In that old day, the English settler on these rude
shores,—having left king, nobles, and all degrees of awful rank behind, while
still the faculty and necessity of reverence were strong in him,— bestowed it on
the white hair and venerable brow of age; on long-tried integrity; on solid
wisdom and sad-colored experience; on endowments of that grave and weighty
order, which gives the idea of permanence, and comes under the general
definition of respectability. These primitive statesmen, therefore,—Bradstreet,
Endicott, Dudley, Bellingham, and their compeers,—who were elevated to power by
the early choice of the people, seem to have been not often brilliant, but
distinguished by a ponderous sobriety, rather than activity of intellect. They
had fortitude and self-reliance, and, in time of difficulty or peril, stood up
for the welfare of the state like a line of cliffs against a tempestuous tide.
The traits of character here indicated were well represented in the square cast
of countenance and large physical development of the new colonial magistrates.
So far as a demeanour of natural authority was concerned, the mother country
need not have been ashamed to see these foremost men of an actual democracy
adopted into the House of Peers, or made the Privy Council of the
sovereign.
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Still, it is the eminent statesmen following immediately after the military
escort who deserve a more thoughtful observation. Even outwardly, they showed
the mark of majesty that made the soldier’s proud stride look cheap, if not
absurd. This was an age when talent carried less weight than it does today. The
burdensome materials that produce stability and dignity of character were much
more important to the people. Our ancestors were more inclined to revere their
superiors than we are in this day and age. Reverence is neither earned nor given
today as it was then, and therefore it plays a much smaller role in political
life. The change may be for good or ill—perhaps a bit of both. But in those
bygone days the English settler on those uncultured shores, having left behind
the king, noblemen, and all sorts of social hierarchy, still felt the urge to
employ his sense of reverence. So he bestowed that reverence upon those whose
white hair and wrinkled brow signified age, whose integrity had been tested and
passed, who possess solid wisdom and sober experience, whose grave and stately
attitude gives the impression of permanence, and generally passes for
respectability. The early leaders elected to power by their people were rarely
brilliant. They distinguished themselves by a thoughtful seriousness rather than
an active intellect. They were strong and self-reliant. In difficult or
dangerous times, they stood up for the good of the state like a line of cliffs
against a stormy tide. These qualities were well represented in the square faces
and large forms of the colonial magistrates taking office on that day. As far as
the appearance of natural authority was concerned, these democratically elected
leaders would have fit in perfectly at England’s House of Lords or the king’s
Privy Council.
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Next in order to the magistrates came the young and eminently distinguished
divine, from whose lips the religious discourse of the anniversary was expected.
His was the profession, at that era, in which intellectual ability displayed
itself far more than in political life; for—leaving a higher motive out of the
question—it offered inducements powerful enough, in the almost worshipping
respect of the community, to win the most aspiring ambition into its service.
Even political power—as in the case of Increase Mather—was within the grasp of a
successful priest.
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Following the magistrates came the young, distinguished minister expected to
give a sermon that day. In that era, clergymen displayed more intellectual
ability than politicians. Putting spiritual motivations aside, the ministry
offered to an ambitious man many attractive incentives, notably the almost
worshipping respect of the community. Even political power was within the grasp
of a successful minister.
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