With Miriam, it is a guilt
which has for excuse that it was the only resort against an unnatural
depravity in Father Antonio. But as if to emphasize the indelibleness of
blood-stains, however justly inflicted, we have as a foil to Miriam the
white sensitiveness of Hilda's conscience, which makes her--though
perfectly free from even the indirect responsibility of Miriam--believe
herself actually infected. In both cases, it is the shadow of crime
which weighs upon the soul; but Miriam, in exactly the position of
Beatrice Cenci, is a more complex and deep-colored nature than she; and
Hilda, differently affected by the same question of conscience, is a
vastly spiritualized image of the historic sufferer. Miriam, after the
avenging of her nameless wrong, doubts, as Beatrice must have done,
whether there be any guilt in such avengement; but being of so different
a temperament, and having before her eyes the effect of this murder upon
the hitherto sinless Faun, the reality of her responsibility is brought
home to her. The clear conscience of Hilda confirms it. Thus by taking
two extremes on either side of Beatrice,--one, a woman less simply and
ethereally organized, and the other one who is only indirectly connected
with wrong or crime,--Hawthorne seems to extract from the problem of
Beatrice all its most subtle significance. He does not coldly condemn
Beatrice; but by re-combining the elements of her case, he succeeds in
magnifying into startling distinctness the whole awful knot of crime and
its consequence, which lies inextricably tangled up within it.
Pages:
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298