PoDG Ch. 1-2 (Dorian and BASIL, Christina xD)

"'I can't quarrel with my two best friends at once, but between you both you have made me hate the finest piece of work I have ever done, and I will destroy it. What is it but canvas and color? I will not let it come across our three lives and mar them'" (Wilde 29).

There's an intricate relationship between Basil, Henry, and Dorian. Basil is a very introverted individual, his intellect his greatest asset. Henry is the wealth, and acts as such. He is very imposing, and thinks of himself more than others. Dorian is vain and capricious, and a tad emotional. The three of them make the Brains, the Bank, and the Beauty. Before Dorian, however, Henry and Basil seemed the best of friends. Every pair of real friends knows that sarcasm is an integral part of friendship. Then comes Dorian. Henry could tell that Basil was obsessing over Dorian, and as such wanted to meet him, to see the man who was distracting his friend. Now that all three of them know each other, it all goes haywire. Dorian is like the new model sports car fresh onto the market. There was a lot of hype about it, and everyone was excited to see it. And everyone who sees it, wants it. Henry is the type of person who wants the car simply because it is better than everyone else's car. It looks indefinitely better than anything else. Henry's only attraction to Dorian is because he is so unbelievably handsome. He only cares that he and he alone owns the car. Basil, on the other hand, acknowledges the car's beauty, but instead admires it for its speed, maneuverability, and the fact that he can drive better with this new car rather than his old crappy one. Basil opposes Henry in the fact that, while he knows Dorian is beautiful, his attachment to Dorian lies in the metaphysical--Dorian is the best muse Basil has ever had. He feels he is painting a god every time Dorian sits for him, and that is what Basil loves about Dorian, that he stimulates his creativity more than anything. Unlike Henry, he only cares about what Dorian wants. Rather than putting himself before others to get Dorian, Basil values Dorian's choice and puts Dorian above himself. The car has no interest for either. It is just a car, and will go with whoever buys it. Dorian seemed like he was completely attached to Basil, until he saw Henry, a new person to get excited over, kind of like a puppy meeting new people. He is too oblivious over both men trampling over each other to get to him, instead reveling in the fact that he is the center of attention. He has been great friends with Basil over the past few months, but then suddenly drops him to hang out with Henry. Now the three bay at each other's throats to try and stomp out one to spend time with the other.

DG Preface

I really liked this preface. I even caught myself smiling at one point when I was reading it. Wilde talks of art, and interpreting art. He says that those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupted, and that is a fault. There is hope, however, for those who see beauty in beautiful things. My impression of this statement was that he's addressing those who would scorn homosexuality, as Wilde himself was gay. Love is still a beautiful thing, no matter who its between, which I think is what Wilde was getting at. To see something ugly is a beautiful thing is a fault. I especially liked the part about moral and immoral books, which I wholeheartedly agree with. Books are either well written or badly written, as Wilde states. He segues into something similar to Huck Finn(I believe) about finding morality or insights in a book. In Huck Finn, Twain tells the reader not to find any insight or moral lesson in the book. This is the same thing. Like Wilde states, there is nothing beneath the surface of a book. It is simply a story. If you look beneath the pages of the book and interpret the story, you are not discovering some commentary or insight on life, you are discovering you, essentially. What you see in a book is because you see it there, not because it was made that way. It is a lot like a Rorschach ink blot test. What you see tells more about you than about the story. An author or artist may mean to do something on purpose, such as name a character a certain way or symbolize something with something else, but in the end, it is the reader who makes heads or tails of it. I really liked this idea--the idea that a story can mean what you want it to mean, as long as you see it and believe it.

Scarlet Letter/Crucible Essay

Scott Pero

AP English Language-Mr. George

February 23, 2010

Do you believe it is more successful to publicly or privately bear sins?

Private Sin vs. Public: The Showdown

Everything has its opposite. Every yang has its yin, every shadow has its light, and every evil has its greater good. Duality is an integral part of nature. For anything to truly be what it is, it needs something to exist to make it such. Without night, would day be the kind of day we imagine now? The contrast between something and its opposite is the best way to define anything. Even human nature consists of duality. Everyone sins, but it is our sins that define our best moments. The good we draw from sinning is magnified by the sin itself. But how do we deal with that sin? Do we bear it in silence, or proclaim it from the mountaintops? Sin is best dealt with publicly, as is demonstrated by the characters of both The Scarlet Letter and The Crucible; the characters suffered from concealing their sins and benefited from revealing them to the world.

Like any secret or emotion, if one keeps it bottled up inside, the result will be anything but propitious. Abigail Williams, the lecherous vixen of The Crucible, exemplifies this fact. Abigail sinned by sleeping with a married man, but she does not confess. Instead, she keeps it a secret, and uses it to fuel her actions. She ignores the fact that she has sinned, instead passing it off not as a sin, but as a loving act with truth behind every moment of it. Abigail obsesses over John so much that she tries to accuse his wife of witchcraft, using her sin as her motivation: “It were a fire you walked me through, and all my ignorance was burned away…God gave me the strength to call them liars, and God made men listen to me, and by God I will scrub the world clean for the love of Him! Oh John, I will make you such a wife when the world is white again!” (Miller 150). Abigail ignores her sin, and even goes so far as to bask in it, saying that it was strength sent from God. Denial is not just a phonetic version of a river in Egypt, it is exactly what Abigail does throughout the entire novel. She condemns others to their deaths, fueled by sinful passion. She masquerades as the mouthpiece of God, but is driven by sacrilege. Ultimately, her internalized sin is the reason Abigail’s fate is the worst of The Crucible’s main characters.

Because Abigail dismissed her sin, the sin was never resolved. It festered inside her, building and building without release. This is an excellent commentary on Miller’s part. The characters that do not confess their sin end up with horrible fates, but those who reveal their sin to the world for judgment are rewarded with absolution. Abigail’s plans are foiled by the man she so vehemently desired, and because of this, she flees, taking her sin with her. The bottled up sin haunts her, weighing her down like a constant rain cloud hovering over her. No matter what she does to stay dry, she will always end up drenched: “The legend has it that Abigail turned up later as a prostitute in Boston” (146). Abigail could have sought redemption for her sin, but instead, she denied its existence and kept it secret. Because she did not confess her sin, her iniquity followed her and she eventually became a prostitute. Undoubtedly, this fate could have been avoided if she had come clean about her sin. John Proctor, though he shared in the same sin with Abigail, enjoyed a better fate.

John Proctor, the man who committed lechery with Abigail, tried to restrain his sin like Abigail. He too ignored his sin, but did not deny its sinful nature. Proctor knew he sinned, and it plagued him every day. He felt the remorse of his sin, but he also knew he had to keep quiet. It would ruin his name in the town of Salem, and that was the one thing he did not want to lose. For this reason Proctor tells no one about his sin, hoping—though he certainly feels the repercussions—that the magnitude of his sin will someday pass. His wife, Elizabeth, is the only other person besides Abigail that knows of his sin. Proctor not only tries to let his sin pass, but he is angered over the fact that Elizabeth brings it up: ““I wilted, and, like a Christian, I confessed...Some dream I had must have mistaken you for God that day. But you're not...and let you remember it! Let you look sometimes for the goodness in me, and judge me not” (55). The weight of Proctor’s sin was too much to bear, and so he confessed to his wife. Still, though he confessed, he is not free of his sin. His wife remembers, and as long as she remembers, so does Proctor. If neither had mentioned it, the threat of the sin would slowly diminish over time until it was a distant memory, but because it constantly made its presence known, it forced him to reveal his sin to the public.

In due time, Proctor revealed his sin and was met with salvation. Abigail, in her seige of terror on the town of Salem, condemned many—including Proctor’s wife, Elizabeth—as witches, all to have Proctor to herself. Proctor knew this was the real reason behind her actions, and the thought only added to the weight bearing down on him. He was constrained by his remorse, Abigail’s treachery, and the threat to Elizabeth’s life to reveal his sin to the world: “I have made a bell of my honor! I have rung the doom of my good name” (111). Not only does he confess to lechery, but he besmirches his own name in doing so. The sin and its aftermath grew to be too much, and burst violently out into the open. Still, however, Proctor confessed. This will, ultimately, lead to his redemption, as Elizabeth states: “He have his goodness now. God forbid I take it from him!” (145). Because Proctor revealed his hidden secret, he attained redemption. If he did not free himself from the monstrous sin within, he would not have been able to ascend into absolution, but because he did, he was free of the guilt and remorse. Proctor died, but he died for a cause he believed in, content to do so. Though Proctor kept his sin private for so long, the important fact is that he confessed in the end, making his sin public.

Like Proctor, Reverend Arthur Dimmesdale of The Scarlet Letter internalized the pain of his sin. Dimmesdale committed adultery with another woman, Hester, and sired a child with her. Dimmesdale, being the man of the cloth that he is, hated himself every moment for indulging in sin. He desired to be free of the sin more than anything, and he wanted the truth to be known. He could not, however, because he was so highly esteemed by the people. If their perfect reverend had sinned, it would cripple their entire faith. When he tries to hint at the wicked iniquity that plagues him, they only venerate him more: “They heard it all, and did but reverence him the more…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…he loathed his miserable self!” (Hawthorne 131). If Dimmesdale hated himself before, he utterly detested his very existence after his congregation did not believe him. It is through this perpetual cycle that Dimmesdale’s torment haunts him. He keeps his sin private, and in doing so, only burdens himself further. Dimmesdale even goes so far as to punish himself: “In Mr. Dimmesdale’s secret closet, under lock and key, there was a bloody scourge. Oftentimes, this protestant and Puritan divine had plied it on his own shoulders; laughing bitterly at himself all the while, and smiting so much the more pitilessly because of that bitter laugh” (132). Dimmesdale not only holds everything in, but literally and physically whips himself because of his sin. By internalizing his sin, he is only hurting himself more.

The only way for Dimmesdale to be free of his anguish is to make his sin public, but he is unable to because of the priesthood. This predicament troubles him for seven long years, during which he deteriorates physically and spiritually from both the pain he has inflicted upon himself and the pain of his sin. He is unable to rid himself of his sin until his last dying moments, where he admits the evil he has done to his entire congregation without fear: “With a convulsive motion, he tore away the ministerial band from before his breast. It was revealed!...the minister stood, with a flush of triumph in his face, as one who, in the crisis of acutest pain, had won a victory” (228). Dimmesdale won against his sin when he was finally able to confess. He was freed of the burdening chains his sin had constricted about him, and he was able to die at peace with the world. Dimmesdale, in making his sin public, conquered his enemies and was accepted by his daughter, who had, until his confession, shunned him. Everything was right with Dimmesdale, and all because he publicly confessed his sin to the people.

Hester Prynne, one of the protagonists of The Scarlet Letter, exemplifies the advantages of publicly bearing one’s sin. Hester slept with Dimmesdale even though she was already married, sharing in his sin of adultery. She deals with her sin like the rest of the characters, but the difference between Hester and the rest is that they chose to reveal their sin; Hester was forced to confess because she grew pregnant with her child, Pearl. Her secret was thus discovered due to the outward manifestation of her sin: “But the point which drew all eyes, and…transfigured the wearer…was that SCARLET LETTER, so fantastically embroidered and illuminated upon her bosom. It had the effect of a spell, taking her out of the ordinary relations with humanity, and enclosing her in a sphere by herself” (50). Hester’s sin was made public from the beginning, and she was forced to wear the scarlet ‘A’ because of it. Both the scarlet letter and her child were symbols of her sin, which, once derived, Hester bore proudly for all to see. She reveled in her sin, and because it was out in the open, she was partly freed from it. If she had somehow been able to keep it secret, she would have to bear it entirely. Because the entire town knows her sin, however, it is not only Hester’s to bear, but everyone else as well. She has gotten over the crucial step of admitting to the sin, and now because of that, she is not alone in dealing with it.

For seven long years, Hester endured the pain of the scarlet letter, but it was not all bad. In the beginning, she was ostracized from society and had to endure the condescending looks of others, but Hester used her pain and put all of her shame to good use: “Hester bestowed all her superfluous means in charity, on wretches less miserable than herself, and who not unfrequently insulted the hand that fed them” (77). Hester used her skill with a sowing needle to embroider for the town, without asking anything more. Having already accepted her role as a devilish sinner, she endeavors to partake in charity as a saint. She uses her public suffering to better herself, and even the people, after years of Hester’s beneficence, began to see her differently: “Individuals in private life…had quite forgiven Hester Prynne for her frailty; nay, more, they had begun to look upon the scarlet letter as the token, not of that one sin…but of her many good deeds since” (147). Not only did Hester improve as a person, but her sin proved an effective way of bettering her stance in the public eye as well. People thought more of her, because she was able to do so much in spite of sinning so seriously. In the end, after her story had long since finished, she was even buried at King’s Chapel, a prestigious cemetery that anyone would be honored to lay to rest in.

All of the characters of both stories had to cope with their sin of infidelity, and all of them suffered in some way from that sin. The defining characteristic that shines through their tenebrous transgressions, however, is how they dealt with them. They were all adulterers, but what they chose to do with that sin is what defines their end. Abigail ignored her sin, and viciously used it to her advantage; as payment, she spends the rest of her life in prostitution. Proctor tried to let his sin pass, but he was soon left with no other alternative but to divulge his secret publicly; because he did, he was able to die for a noble cause with his name untarnished. Dimmesdale punished himself in private for seven years before he was able to confess his sin to the public, but when he finally did, he was freed from the pressure of it and was able to die at peace with the world. Hester openly bore her sin for all to see, and used its publicity to better herself. Three out of the four characters publicly confessed their sins, and those same three are the ones with honorable and happy endings. As both The Crucible and The Scarlet Letter demonstrate, publicly bearing your sins is better than locking them away inside. Publicity is the first step towards freeing yourself from the sin. Privacy only allows the sin to consume you until all that is left is the desire you had confessed sooner.

Works Cited

Miller, Arthur. The Crucible. United States of America: Penguin Books, 1976

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The Scarlet Letter. New York: Bantam Dell, 1986

Scarlet Letter Character Analyses

Scott Pero
AP English Language-Mr. George
February 21, 2010
Pearl Character Analysis

Pearl is the wild and unruly lovechild of Hester Prynne and Reverend Dimmesdale; though seemingly demonic, her intentions are pure.

Because Hester and Dimmesdale indulged in their sin, Pearl was born. Quickly, Pearl’s nature makes itself known. Hester sees herself in Pearl; Pearl is the corporeal manifestation of the Scarlet Letter and everything that is associated with it. She is constantly likened to a rose, as she is always found wearing scarlet, and even says that she was, “plucked by her mother off the bush of wild roses that grew by the prison-door” (Hawthorne 102). Because Pearl is compared to a rose, however, her true and benevolent purpose is revealed: “It[a rose] may serve, let us hope, to symbolize some sweet moral blossom, that may be found along the track, or relieve the darkening close of a tale of human frailty and sorrow” (46). Pearl brings out the moral best in her mother and protects her mother from the cruelty of the townspeople, effectively serving as Hester’s ‘moral blossom’. Pearl finally accepts Dimmesdale as her father when he publicly confesses, kissing him and relieving his frail and sorrowful tale.

Pearl is like a naiad, a water nymph. Pearl is elfish and tricky like a naiad, playing in the same manner with her mother. Naiads were tethered to their source of water, usually a river, and if that river dried up, the naiad died. Pearl’s river is the Scarlet Letter. She is its physical manifestation, and when the Scarlet Letter was no longer necessary, Pearl’s iniquity faded away, leaving her to grow up a normal woman.

A modern-day Pearl is Toph, from Avatar: The Last Airbender; both are tough and like to play tricks on the outside, but deep down, they actually have feelings.

Scott Pero
AP English Language-Mr. George
February 21, 2010
Roger Chillingworth Character Analysis

Roger Chillingworth is a brilliant and learned man turned vengeful cuckold, who develops a penchant for his victim’s pain and anguish.

For Hester to commit adultery, she would need a husband to scorn: Roger Chillingworth. Chillingworth was believed dead for two years, but when he enters Boston after his sojourn in the wilderness, he finds his wife upon the scaffold with a blazing scarlet ‘A’ on her bosom. Chillingworth is extremely brilliant, possessing knowledge in various areas such as alchemy and philosophy. Using his intellect as his greatest weapon, Chillingworth endeavors to discover the identity of Hester’s paramour. Soon, however, Chillingworth’s search consumes him, as he develops a thirst for the lamentations of his victim, Dimmesdale: “‘Better had he died at once! Never did mortal suffer what this man has suffered…there was a fiend at his elbow! A mortal man, with once a human heart, has become a fiend for his especial torment!’” (155). Chillingworth feeds off of Dimmesdale’s agony, eventually addicting himself to it. When the source of his addiction diminishes, Chillingworth dies.

Chillingworth is an animal trainer at a circus who keeps his animal, Dimmesdale, caged. The animal wishes to free itself, but cannot. When it is let out of its cage, it still is not free because the trainer controls it. The trainer manipulates the animal in his show as he sees fit, reaping the monetary benefits he so desperately craves. When the animal dies, the trainer’s source of money is no more, and his act has no purpose.

Chillingworth is like The Hood from The Thunderbirds, who was never rescued by the Thunderbirds, and addicts himself to mass villainy and vengeance because of it.

Scarlet Letter Short Paper

Scott Pero
AP English Language-Mr. George
February 11, 2010
Why is Dimmesdale’s punishment so poignant for him,
and why does he believe it to be a blessing from God?
The Reverend’s Retribution

When someone commits a wrongdoing, that person is punished. There are always consequences for a sin or unjust act. Punishment itself can be anything, from incarceration to death. In The Scarlet Letter, written by Nathaniel Hawthorne, the character Roger Chillingworth inflicts a terrible punishment on Reverend Dimmesdale, the man who committed adultery with his wife, Hester. Dimmesdale’s punishment is especially poignant for him because Chillingworth designed it so that it would perpetuate itself in a vicious, never-ending cycle of torture and pain.

Dimmesdale committed the sin of Adultery with Hester Prynne, Chillingworth’s wife. Hester admits to their sin and bears her punishment, the scarlet letter ‘A’ on her chest, accordingly. Dimmesdale keeps his sin a secret, and thus the endless cycle of punishment begins: “He[Dimmesdale] had yielded himself, with deliberate choice, as he had never done before, to what he knew was deadly sin. And the infectious poison of that sin had been thus rapidly diffused throughout his moral system” (Hawthorne 199). Dimmesdale despises sin, and yet, it has worked its way through his entire being, consuming him in hatred. His sin eats away at the edges of his soul, pestering him day and night. Dimmesdale knows he has to repent, but he cannot. The way to repent is to confess his sin, and that he cannot do.

The people of Boston look up to Dimmesdale, venerating him as the holiest of men. If Dimmesdale confesses, it will devastate the faith of the people. So much of their faith lies with Dimmesdale. If their object of devotion falls, their faith will shatter. Dimmesdale, the holy reverend that he is, holds the Christian faith as the most important thing there is. His main priority is the people that follow him: “‘Lost as my own soul is, I would still do what I may for other human souls! I dare not quit my post, though an unfaithful sentinel, whose sure reward is death and dishonor, when his dreary watch shall come to an end!’” (178). Dimmesdale believes that serving the people is more important than confessing his sin. The priesthood places him in a sticky situation; he has a responsibility to his congregation, and must uphold their faith, but at the same time, he sees himself as unfaithful, and longs to free himself of the pain.

Dimmesdale then feels he has to say something. He cannot confess his sin, because that would utterly cripple the people, so he must relieve himself some other way. Dimmesdale tells his congregation in his sermon that he is despicable and detestable: “They heard it all, and did but reverence him the more…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…he loathed his miserable self!” (131). Dimmesdale thinks he is the vilest sinner. The people, however, see him as the pinnacle of all virtue. They see Dimmesdale’s sermon as an act of humility, which only venerates him more in their eyes. This causes a great disparity between Dimmesdale’s opinion of himself and the opinion of the people: “‘I have laughed, in bitterness and agony of heart, at the contrast between what I seem and what I am!’” (172). Dimmesdale is a hypocrite. He is believed to be a perfect, sinless man, but in reality he has sinned greater than others. This hypocrisy pains Dimmesdale to no end, only furthering his torment. The people love him more, and he only hates himself more because of it.

Even more painful, Dimmesdale believes his suffering to be the will of God. He sees all of his pain and torment as a blessing from the Lord. Dimmesdale, as he is dying upon the scaffold, praises God for his blessing: “‘He[God] is merciful! He hath proved his mercy, most of all, in my afflictions. By giving me this burning torture to bear upon my breast! By sending yonder dark and terrible old man, to keep the torture always at red-heat!...Had either of these agonies been wanting, I had been lost forever!’” (229). To Dimmesdale, God has a plan for him, and his punishment is a part of that plan. If Dimmesdale can endure and accept the torment, he can be saved. It is Dimmesdale’s cross to bear, his rite of passage into Heaven.

Dimmesdale also recognizes the confidentiality in his suffering. He thinks his punishment is a blessing because he only needs to tell God of his sins, and no one else: “‘The heart, making itself guilty of such secrets, must perforce hold them, until the day when all hidden things shall be revealed. Nor have I so read or interpreted Holy Writ, as to understand that the disclosure of human thoughts and deeds, then to be made, is intended as part of the retribution’” (119). Like John Proctor from The Crucible, Dimmesdale sees that there need only be a confession between a man and his God. He sees his pain as a blessing because, since he cannot tell another human soul, he can only commune with God.

Chillingworth was a nefarious old man to exact such a vengeance on Dimmesdale because it continued in an endless cycle. Dimmesdale hated his sin, but could not speak a word of it. When he tried to hint at it, people only loved him more, increasing his self-hatred. Dimmesdale’s internalized pain built up until it was too much: he died once he confessed his ignominy to the town.

Works Cited
Hawthorne, Nathaniel. The Scarlet Letter. New York: Bantam Dell, 1986

Scarlet Letter 10

1.) "The shipmaster...was so smitten with Pearl's aspect, that he attempted to lay hands on her, with purpose to snatch a kiss...he took from his hat the gold chain that was twisted about it, and threw it to the child. Pearl immediately twined it around her neck and waist, with such happy skill, that, once seen there, it became a part of her, and it was difficult to imagine her without it" (Hawthorne 219).

Pearl's encounter with the seafarers is analogous to Hester's story. Pearl enters a throng of sailors, and they are so enthralled by her beauty that one of the sailors tries to kiss her. That sailor was the head of the ship, the shipmaster. Unable to catch Pearl, the shipmaster threw a golden chain about to her. Pearl took that chain and wore it on her figure so beautifully that she was not herself without it. The same can be said for Hester. she was one of the most beautiful women of Boston, if not the most beautiful. Dimmesdale, a figure of great power and popularity, a veritable shipmaster of Boston, loved her and slept with her. Hester's gold chain was the Scarlet Letter. She made it elegant and marvellous, brilliantly weaving it into a work of art, and wore it as such. When she wore it, the letter became a part of her, so much so that you could not imagine her without it. The only difference between Pearl's instance and her mother's story is that Pearl was able to evade the sailors, bu Hester gave in to her love for Dimmesdale. This is echoed later in the book, when it shows that Pearl would not succumb to sin as her mother did.

2.) "Pearl kissed his[Dimmesdale's] 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 forever 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" (229).

It is interesting that, at the story's end, Hawthorne ends with the beginning. Throughout the story, Pearl has been likened to a rose. She is always in red, and even says she was plucked from the rose bush, than born of her mother. She is the embodiment of the Scarlet Letter, always reminding her mother of her sin, but what of her father? What does Pearl do for her father? In the beginning of the novel, Hawthorne gives us a hint, in the form of a rose: "It[a rose] may serve, let us hope, to symbolize some sweet moral blossom, that may be found along the track, or relieve the darkening close of a tale of human frailty and sorrow" (46). For the entire story so far, Pearl has been Hester's moral blossom. She has kept her mother on the right track, and draws out the pure and saintly aspect of Hester through her wild actions. Pearl's role is complete when Dimmesdale confesses. The last thing he asks for as he is dying is that Pearl, the girl who would not kiss him and would not let him kiss her, kiss him. She would not in the forest, but he hopes she will now. When she does, she changes. She is no longer her wild, impish self, but instead will grow up to be a woman of joy and happiness. Dimmesdale's life ends with Pearl's kiss. Thus, Pearl has fulfilled her role in the novel. She has guided her mother, and now she is the end to her father's, Dimmesdale's, story of frailty and sorrow.

Scarlet Letter 9

1.) "'Yes; now I will!' answered the child, bounding across the brook, and clasping Hester in her arms. 'Now thou art my mother indeed! And I am thy little Pearl!'" (Hawthorne 190).

Pearl would not go to her Hester unless Hester wore the Scarlet Letter. This can be explained easily by, as Hester says, the fact that children get confused if something they daily see is removed. Because Hester had worn the Letter all of Pearl's life, seeing Hester without it may have been a shock to Pearl. This also serves as an interesting insight into the nature of the Scarlet Letter. Hester was worn the Scarlet Letter for so long, that it has become her. Everyone knows Hester because of the Scarlet A. The symbol of her sin has merged with Hester, and she cannot be herself without it. It is synonymous with Hester in the eyes of the townspeople. Without it, people may not recognize her. This is the case with Pearl. Without the Scarlet A, Hester is her wild former self, hair down and free, that had just slept with the Minister. When she puts on the Scarlet Letter, however, it reminds her of her true self, and Hester is once again rendered the caring mother Pearl knows and loves. It is the one distinguishing characteristic that Hester is now known by. Without it, she is not herself.

2.) "No man, for any considerable period, can wear one face to himself, and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true" (194).

This is very true. When I first read this, it reminded me of a quote from the movie V for Vendetta. In the movie, the character Gordon Dietrich tells Evey, "You wear a mask for so long, you forget who you were beneath it." Dietrich, in V for Vendetta's dystopian, 1984-esque London, is the host of a Variety Show, and is meant to be a very proud, masculine character. Because of this, he often invites young women to his home to entertain them. In truth, however, Dietrich can never truly "quench his appetite for unconventional fare" as he puts it. The government has outlawed and imprisoned any homosexuals, which is why Dietrich can not be his true self. He pretends to be someone he is not, and after while, he forgets who he truly is. This is the same for both Dimmesdale and Hester in The Scarlet Letter. For seven years, Dimmesdale has lied to his congregation. He purports as a pure, godly man, when he knows he is despicable and vile. He has, though, masqueraded as a good person for so long, that he forgets which version of himself is the true one--the one he believes, or the one the people believe. The same can be said for Hester. The Scarlet Letter acts as her mask. She wears it for so long, masquerading as a heavenly saint, that she forgets the reason she originally was forced to wear the Letter in the first place--she was the woman who had an affair with the Reverend.