What Does Roger Chillingworth Reveal About the Destructive Nature of Revenge in “The Scarlet Letter”?
Author: MARTIN MUNYAO MUINDE
Email: Ephantusmartin@gmail.com
Introduction
Roger Chillingworth is probably the most disturbing character in Nathaniel Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter, and that’s saying something in a novel full of guilt, shame, and hidden sin. While Hester Prynne wears her scarlet letter openly and Arthur Dimmesdale suffers from internal guilt, Chillingworth represents something far more sinister—the complete moral destruction that comes from dedicating your life to revenge. When he first arrives in Boston and discovers his wife standing on the scaffold with another man’s child, he makes a choice that will ultimately destroy him more thoroughly than it destroys his target. Hawthorne uses Chillingworth’s transformation from a learned scholar into a demonic figure to explore one of literature’s oldest warnings: revenge doesn’t just harm its victim; it consumes the person seeking it.
What makes Chillingworth such an effective vehicle for examining revenge is that Hawthorne shows us his complete deterioration over seven years. We see him arrive as an intelligent, slightly deformed but essentially human character, and we watch as his obsession with vengeance literally transforms his appearance, his soul, and his entire reason for existence. Literary scholar Frederick Crews notes that “Chillingworth becomes Hawthorne’s most complete portrait of evil precisely because his evil is self-chosen and methodically pursued” (Crews, 1966, p. 98). Unlike Hester and Dimmesdale, whose sins were passionate and human, Chillingworth’s sin is cold and calculated. This essay examines how Roger Chillingworth reveals the destructive nature of revenge through his physical and spiritual transformation, his psychological torture of Dimmesdale, his relationship with his own humanity, and ultimately, his complete emptiness when his revenge is finally complete.
The Physical and Spiritual Transformation: Becoming the Devil
One of the most striking aspects of Chillingworth’s character is how his physical appearance changes as he pursues revenge against Dimmesdale. When he first appears in the novel, Hawthorne describes him as a scholar with slight physical deformities—one shoulder higher than the other—but otherwise a man of learning and intelligence. He’s traveled extensively, studied with Native American healers, and accumulated knowledge in medicine and natural philosophy. But as the novel progresses and his revenge consumes him, his appearance becomes increasingly demonic. By the middle of the story, townspeople whisper that he looks like Satan himself, and even Pearl, with her childish honesty, asks if he’s the “Black Man” who haunts the forest. Hawthorne writes that “something ugly and evil in his face, which they had not previously noticed, and which grew still the more obvious to sight the oftener they looked upon him” (Hawthorne, 1850, p. 117).
This physical transformation mirrors a deeper spiritual corruption that Hawthorne wants readers to understand about revenge. When you dedicate yourself to harming another person, you don’t remain unchanged in the process—you become twisted and monstrous yourself. The scholar Millicent Bell argues that “Chillingworth’s deformity becomes a visible manifestation of the deformity of his soul, showing how revenge literally reshapes the revenger into something less than human” (Bell, 1991, p. 134). What’s particularly chilling is that Chillingworth seems aware of his transformation but doesn’t care. He’s so focused on making Dimmesdale suffer that he’s willing to sacrifice his own humanity to achieve it. This reveals a fundamental truth about revenge: it requires you to nurture the darkest parts of yourself—cruelty, manipulation, hatred—and the more you feed those qualities, the more they take over everything else. By the novel’s end, Chillingworth has become exactly what Hester calls him: a “fiend,” someone who has “violated, in cold blood, the sanctity of a human heart” (Hawthorne, 1850, p. 195). His physical ugliness is just the outward sign of an inner corruption that has completely consumed the man he once was.
The Art of Psychological Torture: Revenge as Slow Poison
What makes Chillingworth’s revenge particularly destructive—both to Dimmesdale and to himself—is the method he chooses. He doesn’t seek quick vengeance through exposure or violence. Instead, he moves into Dimmesdale’s home under the guise of being his physician and friend, and slowly, methodically tortures him psychologically for seven years. Hawthorne describes this as a violation worse than murder. Chillingworth digs into Dimmesdale’s psyche like a miner searching for gold, probing his guilt, amplifying his suffering, and keeping him alive specifically so the torture can continue. He discovers Dimmesdale’s secret—the hidden scarlet letter carved into his chest—and uses this knowledge to torment him with subtle hints and suggestions that drive Dimmesdale toward madness.
This prolonged psychological revenge reveals something crucial about the nature of vengeance: it becomes addictive. Chillingworth can’t be satisfied with simply hurting Dimmesdale once; he needs to hurt him continuously, to watch him suffer day after day. Literary critic Nina Baym observes that “Chillingworth’s revenge becomes his sole purpose for living, the only thing that gives his existence meaning, and this dependence on another’s suffering is itself a form of spiritual death” (Baym, 1976, p. 178). The irony is devastating—Chillingworth has made Dimmesdale’s agony the center of his world, which means he’s given Dimmesdale complete power over him. He can’t be happy, can’t pursue other interests, can’t live any kind of normal life because he’s bound himself to his victim as completely as a prisoner is bound to his chains. Hawthorne shows us that revenge isn’t liberating; it’s enslaving. The revenger becomes obsessed with the target, unable to think about anything else, trapped in a relationship just as intimate and destructive as the one between Dimmesdale and Hester. The psychological torture Chillingworth inflicts flows both ways—every moment he spends tormenting Dimmesdale is a moment he’s poisoning himself with hatred and cruelty.
The Loss of Humanity: What Revenge Costs the Soul
Perhaps the most tragic aspect of Chillingworth’s character is what his revenge costs him in terms of basic humanity. Early in the novel, there are hints that he wasn’t always a cruel person. His conversation with Hester in the prison cell shows intelligence and even a kind of sad wisdom about his failed marriage. He acknowledges his own fault in marrying a young woman who didn’t love him, admitting “Mine was the first wrong, when I betrayed thy budding youth into a false and unnatural relation with my decay” (Hawthorne, 1850, p. 74). In this moment, he seems capable of self-reflection and even compassion. But he immediately turns from this acknowledgment toward revenge, and in making that choice, he abandons whatever humanity he possessed.
As the years pass, Chillingworth loses the ability to feel anything except hatred and the grim satisfaction of watching Dimmesdale suffer. He can’t appreciate beauty, can’t form genuine relationships, can’t pursue knowledge for its own sake anymore—everything becomes a tool for revenge. Hawthorne is making a powerful point here about how revenge transforms its practitioners. Scholar Michael Colacurcio argues that “Chillingworth represents the ultimate consequence of the unforgiving heart: not just the inability to forgive others, but the complete annihilation of all softer human emotions” (Colacurcio, 1984, p. 201). We see this most clearly in how Chillingworth relates to Pearl. As Hester’s daughter, Pearl is innocent of any wrong against him, yet Chillingworth shows her no kindness or grandfatherly affection. He can’t—those emotions have been burned out of him by the constant fire of his hatred. This is what revenge ultimately costs: not just your relationship with the person who wronged you, but your ability to connect with anyone, to feel joy, to be fully human. By the time Dimmesdale confesses on the scaffold, Chillingworth has become a hollow shell whose only purpose has been taken away.
The Symbiotic Relationship: Victim and Revenger Bound Together
One of Hawthorne’s most sophisticated insights about revenge comes through the twisted relationship between Chillingworth and Dimmesdale. They become symbiotically linked, each one dependent on the other in a sick parody of intimacy. Dimmesdale needs Chillingworth’s medical care because the guilt is literally killing him, and Chillingworth needs Dimmesdale’s continued suffering to give his life meaning. Hawthorne writes that they “dwelt together in the same house… so that every ebb and flow of the minister’s life-tide was observable by the physician” (Hawthorne, 1850, p. 124). This close proximity creates an unhealthy bond that neither can break, even though it’s destroying them both.
The parasitic nature of this relationship shows another destructive aspect of revenge: it chains you to the person you hate. Chillingworth can’t leave Dimmesdale alone because his entire identity has become wrapped up in being the wronged husband seeking justice. Similarly, Dimmesdale becomes dependent on Chillingworth’s presence, even though he senses something evil about the physician. Literary scholar Richard Brodhead notes that “the revenger and his victim create a closed system where suffering circulates between them, feeding on itself and cutting both parties off from healthier relationships and normal life” (Brodhead, 1986, p. 167). This is profoundly ironic—Chillingworth sought revenge to reassert his power over the man who wronged him, but in the process, he’s made himself completely dependent on that man’s continued existence and suffering. When Dimmesdale finally confesses publicly and dies, Chillingworth’s reaction is telling: he tries to stop the confession, not because he’s forgiven Dimmesdale, but because Dimmesdale’s death will leave him with nothing. His revenge requires a living victim to torment. Without Dimmesdale, Chillingworth has no purpose, no identity, no reason to exist.
The Ultimate Emptiness: When Revenge Succeeds and Fails Simultaneously
The conclusion of Chillingworth’s story might be the most damning commentary on revenge in the entire novel. After Dimmesdale’s public confession and death on the scaffold, Chillingworth withers away within a year, “shriveled up, and almost vanished from mortal sight, like an uprooted weed that lies wilting in the sun” (Hawthorne, 1850, p. 260). He’s achieved his revenge in a sense—Dimmesdale suffered terribly and died—but the victory is hollow. Instead of feeling satisfied or vindicated, Chillingworth feels nothing. He’s spent seven years of his life pursuing vengeance, and when it’s over, he discovers that revenge doesn’t actually heal the original wound or restore what was lost. His wife still loves another man. His marriage is still a failure. He’s still alone. The only difference is that now he’s a monster who has destroyed another human being and gained nothing in return.
This emptiness reveals the ultimate destructive nature of revenge: it promises satisfaction it can never deliver. Chillingworth thought that making Dimmesdale suffer would somehow balance the scales or ease his own pain, but suffering doesn’t work like a mathematical equation where one person’s pain cancels out another’s. Scholar James McIntosh writes that “Chillingworth’s final withering shows how revenge is fundamentally nihilistic—it can destroy, but it cannot create, heal, or restore” (McIntosh, 1995, p. 223). The fact that Chillingworth leaves his considerable wealth to Pearl in his will suggests he might have achieved some last-minute recognition of how he wasted his life, but if so, this realization comes too late to save him. Hawthorne’s message is clear: revenge might give you momentary satisfaction, but it will never give you peace, happiness, or redemption. The person who seeks revenge might destroy their enemy, but they’ve already destroyed themselves in the process. Chillingworth’s life becomes a cautionary tale about how the desire for vengeance, once indulged, becomes a consuming fire that burns everything it touches, especially the person who lit it.
The Contrast with Forgiveness: What Chillingworth Could Have Been
To fully understand what Chillingworth reveals about revenge’s destructive nature, it’s worth considering what he could have been if he’d chosen differently. When he first discovers Hester’s adultery, he has options. He could have divorced her quietly, returned to Europe, and resumed his scholarly life. He could have publicly claimed Pearl as his child and raised her, creating meaning through nurturing rather than destruction. He could have even forgiven Hester and Dimmesdale, recognizing his own role in the failed marriage and choosing to move forward rather than backward. Each of these paths would have been difficult and painful, but each would have left him more human than the path he chose.
Hawthorne contrasts Chillingworth’s choice with Hester’s response to her own suffering. Hester is publicly shamed, branded as an adulteress, and forced to raise a child alone, yet she doesn’t become consumed with revenge against the community that judged her or against Dimmesdale for not standing beside her. Instead, she transforms her suffering into compassion, helping the poor and sick, and gradually earning a kind of respect even while wearing the scarlet letter. Literary critic Sacvan Bercovitch argues that “Hester’s path and Chillingworth’s path represent two responses to injustice: one that leads toward redemption and reintegration, and one that leads toward isolation and destruction” (Bercovitch, 1991, p. 187). This contrast shows that revenge is ultimately a choice, not an inevitable response to being wronged. Chillingworth chooses revenge because it feels righteous and justified—he tells himself he’s pursuing justice—but Hawthorne strips away this rationalization to show revenge for what it really is: a form of self-destruction disguised as power. By the end of the novel, Hester has built a life of meaning despite her suffering, while Chillingworth has nothing but ashes.
Conclusion
Roger Chillingworth stands as one of American literature’s most powerful illustrations of revenge’s destructive nature. Through his character, Nathaniel Hawthorne shows us that revenge isn’t the path to justice or healing—it’s a poison that destroys the person who drinks it even more thoroughly than it destroys its intended victim. Chillingworth’s physical transformation into a demonic figure, his psychological torture of Dimmesdale, his loss of humanity, his parasitic dependence on his victim, and his final emptiness when revenge is achieved all demonstrate the same truth: vengeance consumes everything it touches, especially the revenger’s own soul.
What makes Chillingworth’s story so relevant, even 175 years after the novel’s publication, is that the desire for revenge remains a powerful human temptation. When someone wrongs us, the instinct to strike back, to make them suffer as we’ve suffered, feels natural and justified. But Hawthorne warns us that following this instinct leads only to spiritual destruction. The person seeking revenge might believe they’re pursuing justice, but they’re actually choosing to define themselves entirely by their wound, to organize their whole life around someone else’s sin. This is what Chillingworth does, and it leaves him less than human—a cautionary tale about what we become when we let our worst impulses guide us. In the end, Hawthorne suggests that the only escape from the cycle of revenge is forgiveness, compassion, and the difficult work of moving forward rather than remaining forever trapped in the past. Chillingworth couldn’t do this, and his wasted life serves as a warning to anyone who thinks revenge will heal their pain or restore what they’ve lost. It won’t. It will only create more destruction, more pain, and ultimately, more emptiness.
References
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Bell, M. (1991). Hawthorne’s View of the Artist. Albany: State University of New York Press.
Bercovitch, S. (1991). The Office of The Scarlet Letter. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press.
Brodhead, R. H. (1986). The School of Hawthorne. New York: Oxford University Press.
Colacurcio, M. J. (1984). The Province of Piety: Moral History in Hawthorne’s Early Tales. Cambridge: Harvard University Press.
Crews, F. C. (1966). The Sins of the Fathers: Hawthorne’s Psychological Themes. New York: Oxford University Press.
Hawthorne, N. (1850). The Scarlet Letter. Boston: Ticknor, Reed & Fields.
McIntosh, J. (1995). Nimble Believing: Dickinson and the Unknown. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press.