Who is the strongest character in the novel?

[brncao]

Who do you think is the strongest character in scarlet letter (hester, pearl, dimmesdale, or chillingworth)? explain why.

[aeroport]

This sounds like a fun one. Welcome to the Forum, brncao!
Truth to tell, for me it falls between Hester and Dimmesdale. Chillingworth is complicated, in his way, but I do not consider him terribly strong - assuming you mean in the way of "personal strength" (i.e. bravery, general toughness and the like). One could make a rather strong argument for either of the promiscuous pair. Hester carries on while bearing her little badge of "shame", raising her child all the while, and eventually, solely through her own efforts, converts the letter into a symbol of dignity and benevolence. Meanwhile, Dimmesdale beats himself... I'm leaning toward Hester, but really I think it can be effectively argued either way. Probably not Pearl, but maybe.

[livelaughlove]

I don't necessarily understand how the scarlet letter gets converted "into a symbol of dignity and benevolence"...?

I think Hester Prynne is the strongest character --- despite being thrown in the public eye for all to mock and humiliate and stare at, she still continues her life as ordinarily as can be expected. She doesn't give up; she perseveres, which necessitates an extreme amount of discipline and strength. Yet, she doesn't become embittered -- she sews for the poor -- and in this I see an extremely loving, courageous soul who unfortunately caught up in her own mistakes.

[klawick]

Definitely Hester.

Dimsdale, to me, is a very weak person. Although I can relate to him so very much, he would rather inflict self pain than confess his sins. Furthermore, he is VERY prideful. He's so scared of losing his postion that he let a woman take on his sin for SEVEN long years. Wow. That's cowardly.

[aeroport]

Definitely Hester.

Dimsdale, to me, is a very weak person. Although I can relate to him so very much, he would rather inflict self pain than confess his sins. Furthermore, he is VERY prideful. He's so scared of losing his postion that he let a woman take on his sin for SEVEN long years. Wow. That's cowardly.

If I am not mistaken, Dimmesdale's dilemma is that he cannot confess his sins to the public because he is the only one around who seems to be making some attempt at the good Puritan existence. This would make it sort of a "well, if Mr. Dimmesdale, model of Christian decency, can go and trifle around with some hussy who's already married, we can just do what we want, can't we?" situation. His concern, according to the book, is for the souls of those in the community - whether one chooses to really believe that or not. That's what I remember, but honestly it's been so long that I'm not even sure. I'll go look for some quotes sometime. And for you as well, livelaughlove.

[klawick]

In reply to Jamesian, I'm not sure I agree. Dimmesdale is not what I would call strong and I don't believe that is his dilemma. The puritan people were wrong in what they did to Hester, but no where in the novel does Dimmesdale call them out on that. He did, however, defend Hester when Pearl being taken away, but even then, Hester had to ask him. If she hadn't, he would have stood idealy by.

Dont get me wrong, I relate to Dimmesdale in every day life, being a christian, but he's not a strong person. Dimmesdale allowed his overpowering weakness, egotistical pride, and deadly guilt to dictate his life. In this, his demise is anticipated.

[aeroport]

In reply to Jamesian, I'm not sure I agree. Dimmesdale is not what I would call strong and I don't believe that is his dilemma.
(from Chapter 11)
"[The people] deemed the young clergyman a miracle of holiness. They fancied him the mouth-piece of Heaven's messages of wisdom, and rebuke, and love. In their eyes, the very ground on which he trod was sanctified. The virgins of his church grew pale around him, victims of a passion so imbued with religious sentiment, that they imagined it to be all religion, and brought it openly, in their white bosoms, as their most acceptable sacrifice before the altar. The aged members of his flock, beholding Mr. Dimmesdale's frame so feeble, while they were themselves so rugged in their infirmity, believed that he would go heavenward before them, and enjoined it upon their children that their old bones should be buried close to their young pastor's holy grave. And all this time, perchance, when poor Mr. Dimmesdale was thinking of his grave, he questioned with himself whether the grass would ever grow on it, because an accursed thing must there be buried!

It is inconceivable, the agony with which this public veneration tortured him. It was his genuine impulse to adore the truth, and to reckon all things shadow-like, and utterly devoid of weight or value, that had not its divine essence as the life within their life. Then what was he?--a substance?--or the dimmest of all shadows? He longed to speak out from his own pulpit at the full height of his voice, and tell the people what he was. "I, whom you behold in these black garments of the priesthood--I, who ascend the sacred desk, and turn my pale face heavenward, taking upon myself to hold communion in your behalf with the Most High Omniscience--I, in whose daily life you discern the sanctity of Enoch--I, whose footsteps, as you suppose, leave a gleam along my earthly track, whereby the Pilgrims that shall come after me may be guided to the regions of the blest--I, who have laid the hand of baptism upon your children--I, who have breathed the parting prayer over your dying friends, to whom the Amen sounded faintly from a world which they had quitted--I, your pastor, whom you so reverence and trust, am utterly a pollution and a lie!"

More than once, Mr. Dimmesdale had gone into the pulpit, with a purpose never to come down its steps until he should have spoken words like the above. More than once he had cleared his throat, and drawn in the long, deep, and tremulous breath, which, when sent forth again, would come burdened with the black secret of his soul. More than once--nay, more than a hundred times--he had actually spoken! Spoken! But how? He had told his hearers that he was altogether vile, a viler companion of the vilest, the worst of sinners, an abomination, a thing of unimaginable iniquity, and that the only wonder was that they did not see his wretched body shrivelled up before their eyes by the burning wrath of the Almighty! Could there be plainer speech than this? Would not the people start up in their seats, by a simultaneous impulse, and tear him down out of the pulpit which he defiled? Not so, indeed! They heard it all, and did but reverence him the more. They little guessed what deadly purport lurked in those self-condemning words. "The godly youth!" said they among themselves. "The saint on earth! Alas! if he discern such sinfulness in his own white soul, what horrid spectacle would he behold in thine or mine!" The minister well knew--subtle, but remorseful hypocrite that he was!--the light in which his vague confession would be viewed. He had striven to put a cheat upon himself by making the avowal of a guilty conscience, but had gained only one other sin, and a self-acknowledged shame, without the momentary relief of being self-deceived. He had spoken the very truth, and transformed it into the veriest falsehood. And yet, by the constitution of his nature, he loved the truth, and loathed the lie, as few men ever did. Therefore, above all things else, he loathed his miserable self!"

Sounds like a dilemma to me.
I think there's actually more on it than that, though - still looking...


The puritan people were wrong in what they did to Hester
How so? I'm not even sure Hester herself would agree with that. She was an adulteress and was punished as one - and accepted it.



Dimmesdale allowed his overpowering weakness, egotistical pride, and deadly guilt to dictate his life.
Where does this business of pride come from exactly? I do not remember Dimmesdale being portrayed in the novel as proud in the remotest.