Nathaniel Hawthorne
(1804-1864) is known for his literary crusade against
religious hypocrisy and unbridled legalism. For that reason,
a look at what he had to say even from the
mid-nineteenth century is worth our time. Though most people
are at least familiar with the story line of The Scarlet
Letter, Hawthorne
conveyed more than a negative critique of religion—something
you may not realize from your high school or college
literature class when dealing with this book. Hawthorne
included an unexpected agent of redemption in the child--a
type of wild, unpredictable Christ.
A descendent of John
Hathorne (sic)—one of the judges at the witch trials in
Salem—Hawthorne paints through words a dark picture of human
nature and shame-based attitudes, especially within
religious people. He appears to know them well. His stories
such as “Young Goodman Brown,” and The Scarlet Letter
serve as classics in the classroom, teaching about Puritan
shame, fear, hypocrisy, and oppressive religious societies.
Yet, he includes an unexpected agent of redemption in his
novel about disgrace and dishonor. Often missed by those who
focus primarily on the gloom-filled prose about humiliation
in The Scarlet Letter, the child named Pearl, the
product of adultery, provides a redemptive thread throughout
the story.
The main character,
Hester Prynne, must publicly bear the shame of wearing a
letter “A” for committing adultery. To emphasize the
hypocrisy of such a sentence, Hawthorne reveals to the
reader that it is the Puritan minister, Arther Dimmesdale,
who fathered this child out of wedlock with Hester. No one
knows he is the father, and Hester chooses to bear the shame
of wearing the scarlet letter alone. Yet, she is not really
alone in her public shame, for the innocent child they
produce, who stands by her side, is marked with shame as
well.
While some may see
Pearl as simply a reflection of the struggle of her parents,
she is an antithesis to their societal and moral
obligations. She is wild, out of their control, and is
evidence that the consequences of their adultery can never
be contained, yet neither can their producing this child be
seen as entirely without redemption. While her parents try
hard not to change, Pearl is an agent of redemptive change—a
type of redeemer.
A rosebush stands
outside the prison door where Hester has been confined. It
is fitting that it is outside the door and wild, since
Pearl, like the rose, could not be restricted in any human
prison. She is called a Red Rose (97) and, when asked by the
Puritans—who had theological accuracy in mind—if she knew
who had made her, “the child finally announced that she had
not been made at all, but had been plucked by her mother off
the bush of wild roses, that grew by the prison-door” (99).
Her response is viewed with suspicion. Similar to the
Pharisees, who saw Jesus as an illegitimate Messiah, not the
promised son of a virgin, the Puritans cannot see beyond
their own judgments. Hawthorne adroitly hints of the Christ
who was also not made and who announced, “Before Abraham was
born, I AM!” (John 8:58)
The girl’s mother
named her Pearl, ‘as being of great price—purchased with all
she had—her mother’s only treasure!” (80). She is a bit of
heaven—for a “pearl of great price” references the biblical
parable of finding the Kingdom of God (Matthew 13:45-46) and
by extension, Jesus Christ, its King. From the beginning,
Pearl is an agent of change for her mother. She is a lovely
child, a treasure, a rose, who is placed on Hester’s bosom
in direct contrast to the scarlet letter, a child “whose
place was on that same dishonored bosom” (80).
Pearl’s
Easter moment was when she mischievously dared to
dance on graves in the nearby graveyard...the
Christian Easter story is a story of a holy dance
upon a grave.
Hester was always
concerned that Pearl was evil in some way. Hints of
“witchcraft in her eyes” (135) concerned her mother. She
embodied her mother’s shame, but Hester could not deny the
direct contradiction of this child to the shame brought
about by Pearl’s existence. Jesus was also accused of power
from below, yet both he and Pearl defied disgrace, and
depleted the effects of their humiliations. Pearl’s Easter
moment was when she mischievously dared to dance on graves
(117) in the nearby graveyard in playful defiance, which was
seen as an unholy act. And yet the Christian Easter story is
a story of a holy dance upon a grave.
The situation with
Pearl’s father is different from her mother’s. Her existence
nearly destroys him, and she is busy showing him his shame
whenever they meet. She throws prickly burrs to Rev. Mr.
Dimmesdale (117) while she threw flowers at her mother’s
scarlet letter (87). In the woods, she refuses to go over
the brook when he is there, uncomfortable with his presence.
She is out of his control, and out of his mother’s control
when he is around—she extends grace to those who confess
their sin, seeking atonement; but she is an uncomfortable,
piercing reminder to those who attempt to hide their sin.
No matter how much
her parents try to stay apart, Pearl brings them together,
“In her was visible the tie that united them. She had been
offered to the world, these seven years past, as the living
hieroglyphic, in which was revealed the secret they so
darkly sought to hide…and Pearl was the oneness of their
being” (180). In this way, she defies their purpose, is a
thorn, and moves towards exposing them. Shame tries to hide,
and Hester had given in to this codependent relationship of
hiding Dimmesdale’s shame. But Pearl brings it to the light.
She tells the truth about what she sees, and unwittingly
wants to expose them in the marketplace. She is not happy
with the situation until her father owns his sin, and owns
her.
Hester eventually
takes on the role of an angel, visiting the sick, standing
apart in a haloed distance from the people. To some the
scarlet letter no longer stands for adultery, but comes to
mean “Able,” now associated with comfort and ability. In the
end, Hester lives on, is able to cope with life, learns from
it, and endures. Just as the Roman symbol of shame and
ignominy was transformed into the redemptive cross of
Christianity, Hester’s scarlet letter took on new meaning
under the one who bore it.
On the other hand,
Dimmesdale must keep up false appearances. He is so involved
in this deception that he sometimes believes it himself. He
has meticulously watched out for his own interests and
reputation. Referring to his church, he states, “At least,
they all say of me that I leave no public duty unperformed,
nor ill performed!” (188).
It is not until he
admits his guilt that Pearl can embrace him. In a poignant
illustration of Psalm 85:10:
Mercy and truth are met together;
Righteousness and peace have kissed
each
other.
Hawthorne captures a
theological truth once expressed in poetry, now personified
in human experience. “Pearl kissed his lips. A spell was
broken. The great scene of grief, in which the wild infant
bore a part, had developed all her sympathies; and as her
tears fell upon her father’s cheek, they were the pledge
that she would grow up amid human joy and sorrow, nor for
ever do battle with the world, but be a woman in it. Towards
her mother, too, Pearl’s errand as a messenger of anguish
was all fulfilled” (222). The duties of the thorn are
accomplished. She continues as a Rose, a sweet fragrance for
her father at his death, and growing and blessing her mother
for years to come.
In this novel,
Hawthorne exposes the devastating results of unchecked
religious authority, but he doesn’t stop there. His story is
not simply about the repressive shame which marks this
Puritanical, distorted community. He provides glimpses that
Pearl is a type of Christ—who has been called the “Rose of
Sharon.” She comments that she had not been made. She bears
the shame of a sin which she did not commit. She pushes her
father towards confession, not for condemnation, but for his
physical, emotional and spiritual health. She is the bright
spot in a world of woundedness. She exposes the legalistic
narrow-mindedness of those around her, and she overcomes.
Unmanageable and wild, she reminds us that the Redeemer is
not so concerned about propriety and rules. He shares in our
shame. He dances on graves.