Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale: Not A Hero.
As a main character in Nathaniel Hawthorne's tale of "The Scarlet Letter", the Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale is confronted with circumstances both in and out of his control, that lead to his demise. Even though it can be argued that Reverend Dimmesdale is a tragic hero, he lacks the strength and underlying goodness essential for him to fulfill this role. With such discrepancies it is easier for me to argue that the Reverend is not the tragic hero that some believe.
Arthur Dimmesdale, a minister, lives his life under the watchful yet admiring eye of the townspeople of Boston and, as a result, becomes a slave to the public opinion. His sin against Hester Prynne and Pearl is that he will not acknowledge them as his lover and daughter in the daylight. In the Puritan religion any one sin could be punished severely, whether it is a minor infraction or an offense condemnable by death. He keeps his dreadful secret from all those under his care in the church for seven years for fear that he will lose their love and they will not forgive him. He is too weak to admit his sins openly and in their entirety A person at this point in time could not speak out or show any emotion lest they were willing to face the consequences of their seemingly legitimate actions- creating a society where outward and inner truth could not, and therefore, did not, exist. . Instead, Reverend Dimmesdale allows his parishioners to lift him in their esteem by confessing, in all humility, that he is a sinner: "The minister well knew--subtle but remorseful hypocrite that he was!--the light in which his vague confession would be viewed." (127) They love him all the more for his honest and humble character, and this is Reverend Dimmesdale's intent. Even as he plans to run away with Hester Prynne four days after their meeting in the forest, he comforts himself with the knowledge that he will give his sermon on predestination on the third day, and thus will leave his community with fond memories of his final exhortation.
