However, when extensive, individuals find themselves plunging into tragedy, struck into a calamity that will wipe them away. As the jaws of hardship are propelled open, noteworthy talents are elicited, drawing the warrior into a higher land, society, era, or realm, distinctive from their peers. What emanates itself from this association of fine beings is revolutionary compared to all those that surround them, it’s what prints their names into textbooks and finds readers drawn, heartstrings tied around their characters. As if they were enthroned with qualities that only gods and goddesses find themselves entwined in. Prior to the civil war, and even throughout, the institution of slavery was not questioned nor made a pressing issue. The Civil War was originally fought to regain the Southern states, not to condemn those who enacted in such cruelty. As the war progressed, Americans desired to maintain slavery, cut out any chance of expansion, but it wasn’t prodded and put under examination customarily. This role was taken on by the abolitionists, who made up less than 1% of the population. In other words, the immorality of slavery wasn’t a common topic or at least discussed …show more content…
Two excruciating life sentences to be dragged out on American soil until their beings were shattered and spilled across the good earth. Arthur Dimmesdale spent the last seven years of his life silenced, missing the proclamation of his affair with Hester until his last, final breaths. As a Puritan minister, he wasn’t necessarily squashed under social structures or hauled through glass shard-strewn scenes. His soul was lighter, easily crushed, a weight of one event was heavier, the gravity intensified. “Reverend Master Dimmesdale, [a] godly pastor, takes it very grievously to heart that such a scandal should have come upon his congregation” a passerby states, acknowledging his tender heart, yet fails to see that strength lay too. (Hawthorne 39) A commoner may collapse under the “scandal,” wishing for it to choke itself to death or neglect it and allow the universe to do its workings, its thorns coiling around it, as with the prison-door. Perhaps Dimmesdale was the rose then, “kept alive in history,” “symbolizing] some sweet moral blossom.” (Hawthorne 37) Under a religious weight along with an internalized struggle on one barbell, his stem could’ve buckled, wilting from pain. Though Dimmesdale’s grapple wasn’t the finest or most impressive, the once normal man, too transformed. Perseverance, patience, peaceful. His daring child and bearing mother were slammed from his sight for seven years, he held, unable to speak, he was, found fighting himself and all moral