So today, I have decided to condense all of the anger I have collected reading all of the misfortunes in the book into an attack on the pitiful excuse for a human being named Dimmesdale. That means that this kind of also qualifies as a hate post. So if you're against that, better join the person with the bucket. Maybe there's space for two.
"But Nick," you say in surprise, "no one hates Dimmesdale. In the end, he was redee--"
NO. That is not redemption. Which is depressing, but more on that later.
Anyway, we all remember Dimmesdale's whole scene where he admits his adultery and shows everyone his A before he dies, but consider what I have to say.
Dimmesdale once has a conversation with Chillingsworth in which they discuss a dark looking plant that grew upon a poor soul's tombstone. Dimmesdale thinks about what could possibly be so dark as to cause this to happen. He also wonders whether or not grass will ultimately grow upon his grave (and he also has a guilt attack in the process, leading the reader to think that he believes it will not). This conversation, I believe, is ultimately the true reason he admits anything at all. The simple act of grass not growing on a grave signifies a lot to Dimmesdale. I mean, think. We know nothing about the man from whose gravestone grew Chillingsworth's test subject. We only know that he probably did something bad. Think of that from Dimmesdale's perspective. Though he stands to lose his whole reputation with the entirety of Salem at the time, doing so is much better than being remembered as a bad person by all of the people of future generations. He wins by confessing his guilt.
Dimmesdale once has a conversation with Chillingsworth in which they discuss a dark looking plant that grew upon a poor soul's tombstone. Dimmesdale thinks about what could possibly be so dark as to cause this to happen. He also wonders whether or not grass will ultimately grow upon his grave (and he also has a guilt attack in the process, leading the reader to think that he believes it will not). This conversation, I believe, is ultimately the true reason he admits anything at all. The simple act of grass not growing on a grave signifies a lot to Dimmesdale. I mean, think. We know nothing about the man from whose gravestone grew Chillingsworth's test subject. We only know that he probably did something bad. Think of that from Dimmesdale's perspective. Though he stands to lose his whole reputation with the entirety of Salem at the time, doing so is much better than being remembered as a bad person by all of the people of future generations. He wins by confessing his guilt.
And though he loses the respect of almost everyone, he does it at the time when losing said respect means the least to him. Literally at the moment of death when future shame means nothing, he loses the guilt which so threatens his getting into Heaven. Plus he gets to spite Chillingsworth as a bonus.
To reiterate, he stands to gain so much by confessing that it isn't an unnatural thing that he drags out of himself. It was the logical choice. Yes, it may have sucked, confessing to everyone he acted like a paragon towards, but in the end it was the logical choice.
To reiterate, he stands to gain so much by confessing that it isn't an unnatural thing that he drags out of himself. It was the logical choice. Yes, it may have sucked, confessing to everyone he acted like a paragon towards, but in the end it was the logical choice.
 |
| You tell me what's the better option. |
I drew up a decision matrix on MS Paint to represent his choice. Higher possible numbers represent relative weight values of benefits or losses. And yes, I may have overexaggerated a bit, but you get the idea.
Earlier in this post I mentioned that this was depressing. Why? Because Dimmesdale represents us. Hawthorne shows that humans, as a selfish species, will wait to the last second to do things because the benefits far outweigh the disadvantages of doing so. Of course, no one likes that, but it's the truth.
We want the most for the least.
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