This chapter and the previous one give an in-depth description of a heart “of human frailty and sorrow.” The focus of this chapter continues to be Dimmesdale's painful agony, as he writhes beneath the burden of a guilt he seems powerless to confess. Along with strong characterizations of Dimmesdale and Chillingworth, Hawthorne makes two additions to the plot in this chapter: first, the confirmation that Chillingworth no longer has doubts about the minister's guilt; thus, he has undertaken a planned (and successful) campaign to wreak vengeance on the man who seduced his wife and fathered a child by her; second, a specific statement about the methods and degrees of Dimmesdale's own self-punishment.
Hawthorne's irony is evident again in the clever paradox of Dimmesdale's futile attempts at public confession. His suffering has given him sympathies that cause him to understand the sins of others, which results in eloquent and moving sermons. The more Dimmesdale asserts his own sinfulness, the holier his congregation believes him to be. The clergyman is aware that his inadequate confessions are being misunderstood; in fact, he is consciously taking advantage of that misunderstanding: “The minister well knew — subtle, but remorseful hypocrite that he was! — the light in which his vague confession would be viewed.” Thus, his sin is compounded by his actions during his period of psycho-spiritual struggle. Hawthorne ensures that readers’ sympathy for Dimmesdale's suffering does not blind them to the fact that the minister is a sinner whose troubles are largely of his own making.
At the same time, the symbol of human evil, Chillingworth, appears more evil than ever in this chapter. Chillingworth, Hawthorne says, is a “poor, forlorn creature . . . more wretched than his victim.” His revenge is coming at a cost: He is becoming the personification of evil.
