Nathaniel Hawthorne in the 1860s
Professor Oberdiek’s discussion and questions of The Scarlet Letter, by Nathaniel Hawthorne:
Raskolnikov and Dimmesdale are both tortured by guilt. Raskolnikov, however, is additionally driven by fear while Dimmesdale’s timidity keeps him from confessing his sin. The misshapen Chillingworth, of course, seethes with resentment. What about Hester? Her sin covers her with shame. Before delving further into themes and symbolism, I want to talk a bit about guilt and shame, at least as I understand them.
Roughly speaking, shame is an emotion of concealment. And to be shamed is for what one conceals to be made public and condemned by one’s social group. (Hester’s shame couldn’t be concealed, of course.) The connection between shame and genital exposure dominates the Judaeo-Christian tradition, as articulated in Genesis: And they were both naked, the man and his wife, and were not ashamed. And when Eve gives Adam the fruit that enables them to distinguish good and evil, “…the eyes of both of them were opened, and they knew that they were naked, and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons.”
So shame is a social emotion, the roots of which lie in a loss of face by being seen or discovered (as in Hester’s case) in an indecorous condition that should be concealed or —later —in failing to live up to the standards of honor or decency of one’s group —both of which are true of Hester. Interestingly, compared to guilt, there is no way to erase the stain of shame, which is why those who feel intense shame often either remove themselves from the community or end their lives. (As we’ll see, guilt is somewhat different in this regard.)
There is a subtle distinction between shame and being ashamed. I can only be ashamed of those groups with which I identify. So, for example, I can be morally outraged at Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, but I can’t be ashamed, as I don’t identify as a Russian. But I can be ashamed of some of the things the US does, as I identify as an American. (After reading about some extraordinary human cruelty I sometimes say that I’m ashamed to be human — but that is hyperbole.)
Interestingly (and sadly), one can be ashamed of being, say, an illegitimate child or having been sexually assaulted. Why this should be so is worth considering but I won’t do so here.
Finally, a word about shaming, which is typically a kind of punishment, and a powerful one at that. The treatment of Hester being forced to stand on a scaffold for three hours and wear a scarlet letter for the rest of her life exposes her to extreme public humiliation.
What about guilt? It is a cousin to shame, but bound up with transgression of obligation imposed by moral or religious rules. If one is guilty of breaking some profound moral rule and has internalized the rule, then one may well be overwhelmed by feelings of guilt. Notice that violation of these rules need never be made public. Here there is often a felt need to confess (see Raskolnikov) and welcome punishment that will help rid one of feelings of guilt. In the monotheistic religions of the West, although we may conceal our sins from others (and thus avoid shame), we can’t conceal our sins from God. I mentioned that shame is hard if not impossible to rid oneself of. Guilt holds out some hope! For in cultures like ours there is room for remorse, repentance, atonement, and forgiveness. Room for — but not always available!
But enough! Now to the novel.
What I have always found fascinating about Hester is although she knows that she has sinned in a way that can’t be concealed, and repents, yet at least to some extent she turns her shame on its head! It would go too far to say that she wears her scarlet letter with pride, but the strikingly glorious “A” that can’t be avoided by onlookers suggests that her relationship with Dimmesdale was more than just the sin of lust. Hester’s way of repenting is by being helpful to the community in many ways. But I don’t think that she was consumed with shame. What do you think?
Hester’s isolation from the community helps her grow, and by the end of the novel she is, I think, someone who has, at least partially, escaped from the stifling religiosity of Puritan New England.
Dimmesdale is a different matter. He is suffocated by guilt —and is timid and weak. Near the end he goes to the scaffold in the dead of night and admits his guilt (to whom? God already knows! And, of course, he can’t conceal his shame from God!), yet can’t make himself do so publicly. Although he is ashamed of himself, I don’t believe that he ever feels the sting of public shame because his sin remains concealed. Only as he dies in Hester’s arms does he reveal his shame — and death follows immediately. We might imagine, too, that his feeling of guilt, if not guilt itself, is lifted from his shoulders. Dimmesdale is not without redeeming qualities: his sermons show him to be sympathetic to those who have sinned and offers those who have hope of divine forgiveness.
Chillingworth, on the other hand, has no redeeming quality as far as I can see. He seethes with resentment, a resentment that isn’t even well justified, for he has long been thought to be dead. Once Dimmesdale has died, vengeance and resentment dissipate — but it is too late, and he, too, dies a twisted and broken man. Chillingworth might be seen as the Devil incarnate, or “Tempter”, as Dimmesdale describes him. There is no escape from this Tempter but one:
“Hadst thou sought the whole earth over,” said he, looking darkly at the clergyman, “there was no one place so secret, — no high place nor lowly place, where thou couldst have escaped me,— save on this very scaffold”.
I myself don’t agree with Hawthorne, but it is worth thinking about why he is mistaken if he is mistaken:
It is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom. Each, in its utmost development, supposes a high degree of intimacy and heart-knowledge; each renders one individual dependent for the food of his affections and spiritual life upon another; each leaves the passionate lover, or the no less passionate hater, forlorn and desolate by the withdrawal of his object. Philosophically considered, therefore, the two passions seem essentially the same, except that one happens to be seen in a celestial radiance, and the other in a dusky and lurid glow.
Hawthorne published the novel in 1850, roughly 200 years after the time in which the story is set. Although critical of Puritan society, Hawthorne shows himself to be sensitive to the ways in which social structures both enable social solidarity yet can suffocate at the same time. In case you were wondering why Hawthorne subtitled his work as “A Romance” it was because ‘romance’ was used to refer to fictional works that focused on the complexity of human emotions, moral dilemmas, and the interiority of characters with psychological depth — not ‘romance’ as we’ve come to understand it. Certainly the Scarlet Letter explores all these themes, but does any character truly confront any moral dilemmas other than Hester?
I haven’t said anything about Pearl, but this wild, ill-begotten child is herself transformed in the final scene on the scaffold when she and Dimmesdale kiss. You might ask what purposes she serves in the novel.
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