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Dustin Sipes

Professor Walter Hesford

English 343

16 November 2012

The Minister’s Red “A” vs. Hester’s Black Veil: The Battle for Heroism between Internal and

External Stigma in The Scarlet Letter

I. Introduction

Stigma in and of itself could rightfully be considered the driving force behind The Scarlet

Letter’s entire plot, most obviously in its external manifestation: the scarlet letter “A”. This letter

manifests itself in two separate ways. Its first and most obvious form is a piece of embroidery

affixed upon the bosom of Hester Prynne, a woman condemned to wear it for all her life as

punishment for her act of adultery. Its second form is a wound, self-inflicted, on the bosom of

Arthur Dimmesdale, the man who shared her sin but did not come forth to bear his punishment.

Each of them bore their stigma differently, with Hester being forced to bear her stigma externally

for all to see and judge, and Dimmesdale bearing his stigma in secret, internally punishing

himself for his sins in lieu of actual confession. Both required their own strength to bear; yet,

whose strength is the greatest? Hester Prynne has been commonly accepted as the heroine of The

Scarlet Letter, but there are a few who instead choose to assert that Dimmesdale should be hailed

as the unsung hero of Hawthorne’s greatest work. Herein we will closely examine both Hester’s

external stigma and Dimmesdale’s internal stigma, weighing them against each other to

determine, by way of finding the greater strength between them, who is the true hero or heroine

of The Scarlet Letter.

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II. Hester: Strength in External Stigma

While Hester is an undoubtedly strong woman, one who is considered the effective

heroine of The Scarlet Letter and is perceived as above all defining herself in the face of

adversity, her character is nonetheless undeniably defined by the scarlet letter from the

beginning. Even her characteristic streaks of independence and pride, the very traits that cause

many readers and critics alike to assert that she does indeed own herself and is not subject to the

influence of the letter, arise primarily from her defiance of the letter and the stigma attached to it.

It is unavoidable that she is always in some form subject to the effects of this stigma. One of her

greatest strengths, however, is her ability to reverse this external stigma attached to the symbol

and present it to the eyes of the reader, and eventually the Puritan community, in a completely

different light than that which was originally intended.

From the very birth of the letter, Hester willfully re-embroidered its inherent stigma, and

emerged from the Salem jailhouse bearing on her bosom a letter that was “so artistically done,

and with so much fertility and gorgeous luxuriance of fancy, that it had all the effect of a last and

fitting decoration to the apparel which she wore” (Hawthorne 40). Within the context of modern

culture the effectiveness of this embellishment is significantly reduced; however, against the

restrictively drab backdrop of the Puritan world in which Hester is placed, where such

extravagance was “greatly beyond what was allowed by the sumptuary regulations of the

colony” (Hawthorne 40), such embellishment was a bold move indeed, bringing down heavy

criticisms from the Puritan goodwives who witnessed her emergence from the jailhouse. “She

hath good skill at her needle, that’s certain,” one of them concedes, “but did ever a woman,

before this brazen hussy, contrive such a way of showing it! Why, gossips, what is it but to laugh

in the faces of our godly magistrates, and make a pride out of what they, worthy gentlemen,

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meant for a punishment?” (Hawthorne 41) Hester may not have been actively conscious of it, but

the Puritan woman had made a valid observation. While it was assuredly easier for Hester to

execute her blasphemous threadwork in the relative isolation of her jail cell, beyond the reach of

the public eye, the golden embellishment of her scarlet punishment was nonetheless an act of

defiance. Maybe it was a subconscious defiance, or otherwise completely purposeful; or perhaps

it was merely her effort to make something beautiful – a practically subversive act in and of

itself, amongst such a somber lot as the Puritans – out of something obviously meant to be a

mark of moral ugliness. Regardless of what her intentions were, “the effect of her art is the

transformation of the intended meaning of the letter; instead of hiding her shame, she draws the

gaze more intently to the symbol on her breast, pronouncing her separateness more loudly than

the pronouncements of the magistrates” (Last 360).

Here it is important to remember the intent of this analysis, and that we are herein

measuring the characters’ strength upon the scale of stigma. Hester’s defiant re-embroidering

adds pounds to her figurative side of the scale. By sentencing Hester to wear the scarlet letter, the

Puritan authorities were attempting to punish her by placing upon her an irremovable, burning

stigma, one that would remove her individual identity and make her, rather, an object belonging

“to the community as a whole – as the negative example, as the abjected, sin-infected ‘other’”

(Last 360). This stigma would, in theory, remind her constantly of her shame by ensuring that the

community saw her not as Hester Prynne the woman, but as “simply Hester Prynne, wearer of

the scarlet letter,” reducing her to “a transparent sign[, and] … a transgressor of man's laws”

(Last 360). Well-crafted though this scheme was, it nonetheless backfires in the form of Hester’s

triumphant embroidery; “[her] needle subverts the interpretive code” (Last 360). This subversion

continues steadily throughout the tale as more and more of the townsfolk come to interpret the

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letter’s meaning in new ways. Hester re-embroiders her stigma not only literally, but figuratively

as well. By submitting herself without complaint to society’s “worst usage,” being “quick to

acknowledge her sisterhood with the race of man,” and by making herself a “self-ordained Sister

of Mercy,” she slowly begins to reverse the stigma surrounding her infamous letter. (Hawthorne

105) Indeed, she re-defines the letter through her actions until “many people refused to interpret

the scarlet A by its original significance,” instead asserting that “it meant Able; so strong was

Hester Prynne, with a woman’s strength” (Hawthorne 106).

Hester’s ability to withstand the heavy stigma laid upon her does not end here, but moves

past mere redefinition to a complete conversion of its power. In The Custom-House,

Hawthorne’s oft-referenced preface to The Scarlet Letter, Hawthorne supposedly stumbles

across what one can only presume was the infamous scarlet letter itself. In his narrative, he

places the cloth letter to his breast, and feels “a sensation not altogether physical, yet almost so,

as of burning heat; and as if the letter were not of red cloth, but of red-hot iron” (Hawthorne 26).

Many speculations have been made as to the connotations of this burning, most concluding that it

is the residual product of the sin or suffering that had been connected to it during Hester’s life. I

instead choose to believe that it was residual heat from a metaphorical furnace. The scarlet letter

– which, by Hester’s strength, was now almost completely redefined and under her control –

acted no longer as a conductor of its inherent stigma; rather, as implicated in the previous

sentence, it acted as a metaphorical furnace, using Hester’s quiet defiance as fuel to convert this

stigma into a subtle energy that was then at her disposal. She utilizes this energy by manipulating

two of the very factors that she is helpless to change: silence and isolation.

Silence is an inherent byproduct of the level of exclusion that Hester was forced to

endure. Amongst a people that looked down upon her in constant judgment, her voice became

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virtually meaningless. Had she chosen to speak to any Puritan, whether in passing or in any

degree of depth, her words would more than likely have been treated with contempt, if not

ignored outright. Noted Hawthorne scholar Leland S. Person, Jr., in his article “Hester’s

Revenge: The Power of Silence in The Scarlet Letter”, asserts that in Hester’s silence lay her true

strength and power over her situation. “Given her circumstances,” he says, “a strategic silence is

the most appropriate form for Hester’s exercise of power to take” (Person 471). He also

describes it as “both fitting and ironic … ironic because, as feminist critics have argued, women

are customarily ‘silenced’ in male-authored texts in order to be rendered powerless” (Person

470). Indeed, some of Hawthorne’s notorious feminist critics might argue that her seemingly

meek acceptance of this silencing should be seen as weakness and insist that a truly strong

woman would not have stood by and let herself be muted and used by society. Such criticism

would more likely prefer a figure such as Ann Hutchinson, to whom Hawthorne draws many

lines of comparison with Hester. Hawthorne even says that Hester “might have come down to us

in history, hand in hand with Ann Hutchinson, as the foundress of a religious sect. She might, in

one of her phases, have been a prophetess” (Hawthorne 108). How preferable would this have

been to the radical feminists! One fact that such a viewpoint overlooks, however, is the existence

of Pearl. Preceding the quotes in the previous sentence, Hawthorne gave us a disclaimer, stating

that this alternative fate would have only been possible “had little Pearl never come to [Hester]

from the spiritual world” (Hawthorne 108). With Pearl as her responsibility, Hester was not

allowed the luxury of being outspoken against her Puritan oppressors, lest she “have suffered

death from the stern tribunals of the period, for attempting to undermine the foundations of the

Puritan establishment” (Hawthorne 108), leaving Pearl to be raised by the church or some

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church-ordained guardian – which doubtless would have appeased the traditional moralists as

well.

Leaving the feminists and Puritan-sympathizers aside, however, we realize that Hester

truly had no choice but silence. Thus, it was silence that she was forced to use as her both her

armor and her weapon, drawing it close to herself and letting her absence of words speak for

itself. In its own way, her silence spoke more than her words ever could have, justifying her to

others where actual argument would have merely worsened her situation. When she met

members of her community in the streets, she never so much as raised her head to greet them, or

to return their greetings. On the rare occasion in which “they were resolute to accost her,” she

merely “laid her finger on the scarlet letter, and passed on” (Hawthorne 108). Even this simple

act of silence shaped opinions as effectively as words, and even though it may have been out of

pride, it was “so like humility, that it produced all the softening influence of [that] quality on the

public mind” (Hawthorne 108). Suzan Last, quoted earlier, even provides a proverbial bone to

throw to the feminists regarding Hester’s silence:

Without benefit of a suitable language, Hester communicates through her

feminine artistry of needle-work – an artistry that the narrator recognises as

‘almost the only one within a woman's grasp’ (76). The women in the community

recognise her non-verbal, feminine form of communication … Only in this non-

verbal, semiotic system can she begin to take control, to some degree, of her

identity; and only through the use of this semiotic power can she subvert the

patriarchal symbol of punishment paced on her breast, as well as the patriarchal

power placed over all women in the community. (Last 361)

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A further consequence of Hester’s stigma is her isolation from the Puritan community.

Though not physically isolated, she nonetheless remains separated from them by the invisible

boundary created by her scarlet stigma. This isolation causes her no great grief; on the contrary,

it presents her with the opportunity to develop what is probably the greatest augment to her

strength: her freedom of thought. Her enslavement to her stigma – and the resulting silence and

isolation – forced her life to turn, “in great measure, from passion and feeling, to thought”

(Hawthorne 107). In all actuality, this forced transition freed her from what Hawthorne refers to

as “the fragments of a broken chain” (Hawthorne 107), and the law of the world in which she

lived “was no law to her mind” (Hawthorne 107). This freedom of thought and subsequent

freedom of will, when set against her Puritan backdrop, is what has marked Hester Prynne in the

literary annals as notoriously Antinomian, alongside her somewhat-counterpart, the “sainted”

Ann Hutchinson. As aforementioned, Hester never reached Hutchinson’s level of revolution due

to the constraints placed upon her by her daughter; yet, due to the fact that we can “get inside her

head”, so to speak, we realize that she was truly no less revolutionary in her questioning of

Puritan-imposed circumstances.

She assumed a freedom of speculation, then common enough on the other side of

the Atlantic, but which our forefathers, had they known it, would have held to be

a deadlier crime than that stigmatized by the scarlet letter. In her lonesome

cottage, by the sea-shore, thoughts visited her, such as dared to enter no other

dwelling in New England; shadowy guests, that would have been as perilous as

demons to their entertainer, could they have been seen so much as knocking at her

door. (Hawthorne 107-108)

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In this fashion Hester turned the seemingly bleak prospect of isolation into a playground for

private reflections, contemplations, and a level of introspection that strengthened her even

further.

III. Dimmesdale’s Weakness: Internalized Stigma

If Hester is the heroine of The Scarlet Letter, then by extension one might consider

Dimmesdale to be the “hero”. What, though, is heroic about him? To adequately support an

argument of strength between Hester and Dimmesdale, we must first examine what could

possibly make us think that Dimmesdale is potentially a strong figure in the first place. His

character – one visibly rife with weakness, and unsound in mind, body, emotion and spirit –

more often than not strays into the realms of the pathetic. Where, then, is his strength? In one

respect, Dimmesdale could be seen as, in the words of one Bruce Ingham Granger, the “Tragic

Hero” of The Scarlet Letter. Granger insists that “Hawthorne's allegorical romance centers on a

good man's struggle with and eventual victory over the guilt he experiences after committing

lechery” (Granger 197). He also asserts that Dimmesdale’s was the final and most magnificent

triumph of the story, as he “has his Calvinist faith put to the supreme test and, having agreed to

flee Boston with Hester and their child, finds the strength to face his responsibility and confess

before he dies” (Granger 197), which purportedly is “the act of a man who is tragically great”

(Granger 202). In contrast, to further portray Dimmesdale as the story’s glorious martyr,

Granger demonizes Hester. “[She] is incapable of acting in any way that is ethically meaningful”

(Granger 202), he says. “Whereas Dimmesdale's full revelation on the scaffold is tragic, Hester's

dynamic but lawless behavior … is at best heroically pathetic” (Granger 202).

These assertions, while touching in their sentiment, collapse rather quickly beneath closer

examination through the lens of stigma. Firstly, we must remember that, from the beginning,

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Dimmesdale was too frail in character to come forth, of his own volition, and take upon himself

the external stigma that Hester was forced to bear. Thus, he subjected himself to an internalized

self-stigmatization, which he bore for years until his “victory” at the scaffold – which I prefer to

see as a collapse rather than a victory. Was it truly the case that Dimmesdale miraculously and

instantaneously found the inner strength to accept external stigma, suddenly dredging up some

hidden reserve of Christ-like martyrdom which compelled him to sacrifice himself upon the

scaffold? Inspiring as this concept may be, I find it highly unlikely that Dimmesdale would so

easily and spontaneously change the nature of his entire character of cowardice as it had been

portrayed and reinforced throughout the text, especially at the end where his weakness had

reached its lowest point. It is improbable that he found the strength to accept external stigma;

rather, it is more easily believable that he simply ran out of strength to uphold his internal

stigma. Even if we were to see Dimmesdale’s confession as a victory rather than a collapse, it

was a victory attained more at the strength of Hester Prynne than Arthur Dimmesdale. Before he

begins his ascent to the scaffold, he cries out to her for help, saying

Hester Prynne … in the name of Him, so terrible and so merciful, who gives me

grace, at this last moment, to do what – for my own heavy sin and miserable

agony – I withheld myself from doing seven years ago, come hither now, and

twine thy strength about me! Thy strength, Hester; but let it be guided by the will

which God hath granted me! … Come, Hester, come! Support me up yonder

scaffold! (Hawthorne 160)

What little will Dimmesdale does have, he admits, is not even his own, but has been granted him

by God, and even with this God-given will he must still implore Hester to support him! This does

not seem like the final act of a martyr, but the act of a weakling in the throes of desperation, a

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coward who “had become so thoroughly compounded with hypocrisy that all his seeming

revelations and gestures have undermined the efficacy of his true revelation. His final act can be

seen according to the pattern of his previous gestures” (Stocking 337).

A far more intriguing assertion of Dimmesdale’s potential strength can be found in an

article entitled “Subtle, but remorseful hypocrite: Dimmesdale’s Moral Character” by Kenneth

D. Pimple. This article asserts that Dimmesdale’s true strength, as opposed to Hester’s strength

in silence, lay in his powers of speech. Throughout the text of The Scarlet Letter, Dimmesdale’s

powers of speech are repeatedly lauded. A prime example lies in the beginning of the story: as

Hester stands upon the scaffold, Dimmesdale is entreated to reason with her for the purpose of

convincing her to reveal her partner in adultery. As readers, we realize the irony in this, but the

surrounding crowd is clueless regarding the truth of the situation. Dimmesdale’s entreaty, despite

the obvious difficulties we know to be present in its execution, was nonetheless awe-inspiring.

“The young pastor’s voice was tremulously sweet, rich, deep, and broken. The feeling that it so

evidently manifested, rather than the direct purport of the words, caused it to vibrate within all

hearts, and brought the listeners into one accord of sympathy” (Hawthorne 49). His gift with

words escalated steadily from that point onward until his final sermon, right before his

confession. The text says that “[never] had inspiration … ever breathed through mortal lips more

evidently than it did through his” (Hawthorne 157). Such strength in his rhetoric, combined with

the fact that he had a congregation to exercise it over, provided Dimmesdale with a great amount

of power at his disposal. “Dimmesdale’s eloquence speaks to the heart,” Pimple says; “its power

comes more from affect than meaning, more from emotion than reason, more from pragmatics

than semantics” (Pimple 259). This ability to make people feel as he wanted them to feel without

revealing the true purpose behind his words inherently made Dimmesdale a master manipulator.

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This very power of manipulation, however, is where we begin the descent into

Dimmesdale’s weakness. His rhetoric was a rhetoric of hypocrisy, and as such, it began to tear

him apart over time. To quote the gospel of Mark, “if a house be divided against itself, that house

cannot stand” (King James Bible, Mark 3.25). Dimmesdale was indeed divided against himself,

facing an ongoing dilemma where

[He] values both his social face and his immortal soul, but he cannot save one

without losing the other. His inner torment springs from this dilemma, and his

effort to serve two masters leads him into continual doubletalk and makes his life

an ongoing deception. His double values split his speaking in twain and slowly

tear him asunder. (Pimple 270).

Dimmesdale’s desperate need to uphold his public image also causes me to believe that, even

had he possessed the strength of will and character to own his stigma externally from the

beginning, he still would have proven himself the weaker party in the end. Hester, until the end

of her days, remains strong and quietly defiant under the shadow of her letter. Dimmesdale,

though, would have collapsed over time, and rather quickly, unable to withstand the shame

allotted to him by his flock and their collective disappointment in him. His emotional and

personal tie to his profession and occupation of guiding the souls of the Puritan community

would have degraded him with regret, and in the end he would have been reduced to a mess of a

man nearly identical to the Dimmesdale who carved his letter into his breast in private.

IV. Final Battles: The Forest and the Triumphant Return

Chapter XVII of The Scarlet Letter, in which Hester and Dimmesdale meet in the forest

outside of the village, sets the scene for our final battle of strengths. It is here that both of our

protagonists unload their full proverbial arsenal, displaying their cores for the world to see and

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judge as they will. Dimmesdale utilizes his talents of manipulation to their fullest extent in this

encounter, and “his critical conversation with Hester in the forest follows a pattern similar to his

public speaking” (Pimple 260). He presents himself in a fashion that makes him, on the surface,

obviously weak. He begs Hester in the most pathetic fashion to help him, to use her strength to

give him guidance. “Think for me, Hester!” he says; “Thou art strong. Resolve for me!”

(Hawthorne 126). Here he truly is weak, but he is also beginning to subconsciously exercise the

only power he possesses, manipulating Hester – who “still so passionately loved” (Hawthorne

124) the man – into being his strength for him. It is at this point that Hester’s own strength

begins to rear its head, countering Dimmesdale’s manipulation: she takes his burden upon

herself, looking the wretched minister in the eyes and “instinctively exercising a magnetic power

over a spirit so shattered and subdued that it could hardly hold itself erect” (Hawthorne 127). She

tells him to run, to leave the oppressive community behind to search for a new life across the sea

in their former homeland. The traditional moralist might argue that this is instead Hester’s

greatest moment of weakness, as she would be wholly subjecting both herself and the poor,

defenseless Dimmesdale to the clutches of “sin”; but The Scarlet Letter, it must be kept in mind,

is not a book written to enforce Puritan morals. It is a mild demonization of the Puritan way, and

as such one cannot base the strength of Hawthorne’s characters’ actions on traditional Puritan

morals and still expect to properly understand either them or the text in which they reside.

Dimmesdale is bolstered by this new proposition, and in his eyes burns “a fitful light,

kindled by her enthusiasm” (Hawthorne 128). He quickly hides it though, letting it “[flash] and

[die] away” (Hawthorne 128), continuing his futile struggle against his own duality. Doubtless

he wished that this proposed freedom could be possible, but in order to preserve the sanctity of

his immortal self he knew, according to the religious standards to which he had prescribed, that

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he could not do such a thing as flee without damning himself. By this point, though, his

weakness had seeped through his very soul, dampening his dedication to these standards. In this

spiritual weakness his desire to preserve his mortal self won over, and he instinctively exercised

his talent for manipulation in the form of a guilt trip. He says to Hester, “There is no strength or

courage left me to venture into the wild, strange, difficult world alone!” (Hawthorne 128). He

then repeats the word emphatically, putting forth a not-so-subtle hint: “Alone, Hester!”

(Hawthorne 128). Hester, then, is put in a position where she is forced to make the hard decision

for him. This she does: “’Thou shalt not go alone!’ answered she, in a deep whisper” (Hawthorne

128).

Now we arrive at the debate over who has truly won here. It could be argued that

Dimmesdale has won: utilizing his talent for manipulation and rhetoric of duality, a talent

developed as a result of his internalized stigma, he has virtually forced Hester into doing and

saying precisely what he wanted her to do and say. It could also be argued that Hester continues

to be the stronger of the two, as she was willing to take Dimmesdale’s burden upon herself – a

symbol of her compassion, and not an indication of weakness by falling into Dimmesdale’s

proverbial trap. To truly determine who has won here, we must look beyond the end results of

their battle and examine instead the roots of their stigmas. Dimmesdale’s stigma, while it

irrefutably required its own level of strength to uphold, nonetheless had its root in selfishness.

This selfishness was the manifestation of his weakness; he did not have the strength to confess

and bear the external stigma as Hester did, so he is forced to selfishly bear his internal stigma.

Dimmesdale’s internal stigma is inherently weak, therefore, because it was born of weakness.

Hester’s stigma, however, had its roots in utter selflessness. She was forced to bear her stigma,

whereas Dimmesdale had a choice – and, furthermore, she chose to bear it alone, with no

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companion to stand beside her and ease her shame, all for the sake of keeping Dimmesdale’s

secret.

We must also examine the course which their stigma took over the span of The Scarlet

Letter. Dimmesdale’s selfish stigma degraded him, slowly but surely, until he became a pathetic

creature capable of only giving up the ghost upon the scaffold with last words that, even with his

dying breath, carried the dual rhetoric of hypocrisy. Hester’s selfless stigma, meanwhile,

continued to manifest itself in further selflessness: helping and providing for those who scorned

her with complete humility, taking the burden of Dimmesdale’s sin as her own, and – in her

moment of greatest triumph – returning to the place of her persecution after years of departure

and willingly taking up the scarlet letter again, sacrificing any hope of regaining herself to serve

her penitence. In this way Hester is a wondrous oxymoron. Her true and indisputably great

strength lies in her ability to use that which she is powerless to help as the source of all her

power. She is, by definition, a true heroine.

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Works Cited

Granger, Bruce Ingham. “Arthur Dimmesdale as Tragic Hero”. Nineteenth-Century Fiction Vol.

19. No. 2 (1964): pp. 197-203. Print.

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The Custom-House. Ed. Leland S. Person. New York: W.W. Norton &

Companany, 2005. Print.

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The Scarlet Letter. Ed. Leland S. Person. New York: W.W. Norton &

Companany, 2005. Print.

Last, Suzan. “Hawthorne’s Feminine Voices: Reading ‘The Scarlet Letter’ as a Woman”. The

Journal of Narrative Technique Vol. 27. No. 3 (1997): pp. 349-376. Print.

Person, Jr., Leland S. “Hester’s Revenge: The Power of Silence in the Scarlet Letter”.

Nineteenth-Century Literature Vol. 43. (1989): pp. 465-483. Print.

Pimple, Kenneth D. “Subtle, but remorseful hypocrite: Dimmesdale’s Moral Character”. Studies

in the Novel Vol. 25. No. 3 (1993): pp. 257-271. Scholarly Journal.

Stocking, David M. “An Embroidery on Dimmesdale’s Scarlet Letter”. College English Vol. 13.

No. 6 (1952): pp. 336-337. Print.