Walking With Our Demons: American Puritanism and "Young Goodman Brown"

History is repetitive when we are not mindful. Pieces of it move into our contemporary lives and hang like a lingering stench. I think of this whenever I reread Nathaniel Hawthorne’s Young Goodman Brown. Hawthorne’s narrative, published in 1835, depicts a man (the title’s namesake) casually strolling through the wilderness. Cloaked as an innocuous yet questionable walk in the woods, Brown’s journey soon becomes a glimpse into his dark soul. Utilizing historical events, Hawthorne unearths the ghosts of early European settlers to reveal the foundations of early American life. His trope embodies gothic sentiments that divulge horrific elements imperative to human existence—the underbelly of religious devotion, the terrors of Colonial Christian faith, and the brewing of a legitimate distrust in humanity.

Young Goodman Brown exhibits, among other things, the Puritanical belief system as a dubious and unreliable anchor for the human psyche. The reader recognizes Brown’s Faith (his wife and his spiritual devotion, respectively) as the leverage he uses to buoyance his spirit. Yet, they become the entities that drown it. Interestingly, the author’s intent is for the central character to represent Everyman—that nonbinary figure symbolizing the struggles and triumphs of all humans. Hawthorne’s Everyman scuffles with his newfound knowledge that those who appear to have reverence for God may also be in cahoots with the opposition. As the plot progresses, the reader observes how Brown and his community represent upstanding citizens by day. However, by night they all have an identifiable comparison with the devil. For instance, there is no visible discerning attribute between Brown and his companion as they walk along the path together. Both resemble one another in tone and physical appearance, so much so they could be “taken for father and son.” Brown is a white descendant of European immigrants (British perhaps), living and thriving on land that did not initially belong to his ancestors. Historical writings, i.e., Meriwether Lewis and William Clark’s expedition journal entries, peg the North American wilderness as a horrifying environment for new world settlers. White authors conjuring American history may find it less agonizing to portray early European immigrants as scared, distressed bystanders, ridding them of responsibility for wrongdoing. Fear of the unknown is a convincing vortex used to justify brutality against those considered other. Yet, settlers continued confiscating land and implementing decrees to benefit their livelihoods. Brown’s seemingly unconscious ability to saddle up alongside a menacing yet charming figure in a setting harmful to European newcomers much analysis reeks of privilege and familiarity. Does he know this man? Have they met before? Perhaps. Nonetheless, Brown and his fellow Salem village neighbors appear comfortable trapesing along its worn, wooded paths as night falls. Displaying suspicion for the settlers’ characters, Hawthorne refuses to depict them as harmless and distressed peoples rid of any wrongdoing. He alludes to European immigrants using Christianity and religious anxiety to justify their brutality against the Indigenous. As Brown progresses deeper into the wilderness, aspects of his fellow villagers’ true characters, and his, are revealed. Brown’s perception of his community as a wholesome place filled with devout, God-abiding people is inaccurate. He has created a religious utopia his companion reveals does not exist, at least not in Salem village. Puritanical conviction fails to acknowledge human nature’s duality. It ignores how humans can be empathetic and loving while inhabiting malevolent attributes. While purposely sauntering alongside his malicious companion, Brown ignores his attraction to wickedness as he vocally condemns others.

The story’s narrator does not initially divulge much regarding Brown’s mysterious meeting in the woods; suspense regarding a white man’s secret rendezvous with evil is better for narrative progression and climax. Brown does tell his beloved wife, “Of all nights in the year, this one night must I tarry away from thee.” The journey is urgent and must occur between the evening and sunrise, signifying the protagonist’s acquiesce to activities blanketed in darkness and held away from the public’s criticism. Brown speaks of devotion and is consumed with the religious zeal of the community elders he admires and respects. However, his actions display an interesting humanistic dichotomy in that he seems to believe strongly in his community’s religious values but willfully strays from the path. The people the young man esteems the most are not the pious individuals he believes them to be, for they have not “been a race of honest men and good Christians.” Likewise, Brown’s innate humanness does not mirror the virtuosity he touts in his village. So, it is intriguing how Brown leaves the woods embittered by his comrades when he enters the dwelling as an indecent, flawed individual.

Young Goodman Brown is a social mirror ball exposing puritanical dogma as more of a cautionary tale than a respite for human decency and honor. Hawthorne’s allegory uncovers how Christian values did not rid early settlers of bigotry and propensity for power. Moreso, the Everyman used religion as a blanket to conduct evil deeds in the dark. One hundred and eighty-seven years later, the behavior still seems familiar.

Hawthorne, Nathaniel. “Young Goodman Brown.” Fiction: An Introduction, edited by Robert DiYanni, McGraw-Hill, Boston, MA, 2000, pp. 199–208.