Abdoulkhalak 1

“Young Goodman Brown”: The Evil Within and the Evil Without

Had Goodman Brown fallen asleep in the forest, and only dreamed a

wild dream of a witch-meeting?

Be it so if you will. But, alas! It was a dream of evil omen for young

Goodman Brown. (Hawthorne 16)

The question above reveals the extent to which an answer could determine the

full meaning of a story like “Young Goodman Brown.” However, Hawthorne’s tale, as

Mark Van Doren has put it, “is so good a story that readers of it must rarely be

tempted to decide what it means” (79). Indeed, the underlying meaning of the narrative

which is unanimously considered to be thought-provoking is “no more than” what the

reader himself “wishes to think it has” (qtd. in Van Doren 76). Therefore, the tale

should always be subject to constant critical reading and scrutiny.

This paper is an attempt to reconsider the meaning of “Young Goodman Brown”

in the light of two landmark critiques, which are, in every sense, to be viewed through

the optics of textual analysis in order to ponder the question whether the evil is within

the self or outside of it.

The intent is to compare and contrast David Levin’s article “Shadows of Doubt:

Spectre Evidence in Hawthorne’s ‘Young Goodman Brown’” and Paul J. Hurley’s

article “Young Goodman Brown’s ‘Heart of Darkness’” for the purpose of putting

both articles under focus so as to see how reasonable their interpretations of “Young

Goodman Brown” sound. The study, as a matter of fact, will be of great help to us in

answering the following questions: What do Levin and Hurley try to tell us apropos

“Young Goodman Brown”? How do they approach it? To what extent are their
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arguments persuasively expressed? These questions will, in stages, ease our way

through the examination of Hawthorne’s meaning that envelops the short story.

I am going to focus upon the major ideas the two critics would like to

communicate in their articles. On one hand, Hawthorne’s use of historical elements as

external “clues to the violence and speed of Brown’s rebellious outburst” will be

scrutinised methodically to answer the above-mentioned queries (Colacurcio 50). On

the other hand, I will seek the motif behind Hurley’s belief that the pervasiveness of

evil is within Goodman Brown, and the question of whether to regard the latter’s

journey the same as Marlow’s in Joseph Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness” or not. All

things considered, I shall allow myself some degree of latitude to assess the two

articles.

The paper will be arranged as follows. I intend to begin with an introduction on

the chief questions raised in this paper. Afterwards, I will dedicate myself to

comparing and contrasting the selected articles. This would enable us to focus upon

the conspicuous points brought into play in each article. The section which comes after

shall consider and question the validity and reliability of each article. Finally, I shall

perhaps be in a position to provide a conclusion of mine.

“Young Goodman Brown,” being the greatest of all Hawthorne’s tales, has been

studied extensively. It has received a wealth of responses “that pursue every possible

interpretive nuance” (qtd. in Tritt 113). Walter J. Paulits, for instance, believed that

“Young Goodman Brown” is an allegorical presentation of ambivalence rather than of

ambiguity (577-84). Richard Predmore, who read the story in the light of Jungian

theory, represented Goodman Brown’s Journey into the forest as a mythological night
 Abdoulkhalak 3

journey into the unconscious, a journey in which Brown finds himself surrounded by

three archetypes: the terrible mother, the anima, and the shadow (250-57). Unlike

several Freudian critics, Michael Tritt made use of the concept of Freudian projection

to explicate Hawthorne’s tale, in the sense that its protagonist projects his own

apprehensions onto others (113-17). James C. Keil explored the construction of the

middle class world in the nineteenth century through “Young Goodman Brown” as it

accounts for the anxieties induced by the new division of the world into public and

private spheres based on sexuality and gender relations (33-55). Monica Elbert

interpreted Hawthorne’s story on the basis of Faith’s sexuality that leads her Puritan

husband to the woods, where he would join those whose carnal indiscretions have led

them to their end (23-44). John Neary went further to consider Goodman Brown’s

forest experience as a journey of “depth spirituality” rather than of “Freudian depth

psychology” (244-70). In view of this, one can conclude that “Young Goodman

Brown” criticism has covered a wide range of interpretations.

In addition to the critics mentioned above, Levin and Hurley, whose pre-eminent

articles were published in the late sixties of the twentieth century, have in turn their

own readings of the tale somehow different from each other. This, nevertheless, does

not mean that they do not have a common point, that is, Goodman Brown’s gradual

crisis of faith. Hurley writes:

[Brown’s] “devil” knows […] that belief in the morality of society must be

destroyed, rationalized away before total commitment to evil is possible

[…]. The Devil then begins a sly temptation of Goodman Brown, but it is a

puzzling temptation because the only rewards Goodman Brown is offered

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are the aspersions cast on his family, his neighbours, and his church. (413-

14)

Hurley suggests that Goodman Brown’s consciousness of and admission to the

diabolical forest mission, in Levin’s words, “[invite] the Devil [to determine] the

organisation of his argument” which consists of progressively “traducing” (348) “the

three institutions to which man (i.e. Brown) is obligated: the family, society, and the

church” (Hurley 414). In doing so, for Levin, as well as for Hurley, the Puritan youth

ends up, in Joan Elizabeth Easterly’s words, “wilfully” destroying “his commitment to

his wife, the moral code of his society, and the teachings of his religion” (339).

The first point that distinguishes Levin from Hurley is the approach each relied

upon in their criticism of “Young Goodman Brown.” Levin granted “Young Goodman

Brown” a literal, historical plausibility because it permitted him, to a great degree, to

account for the tale’s meaning and, hence, to have a well-grounded understanding of

its moral implications. He looks at the story in terms of evidence that Brown is

overwhelmed by spectral images produced by the Devil himself. Brown’s total self-

deception, Levin explains, is attributed to the very power the Devil enjoys in

manipulating spectral apparitions of his “sworn disciples” (Colacurcio 56). In this

respect, Levin reports Mather’s declaration that:

The Father of Lies is never to be believed: He will utter twenty great truths

to make way for one lie: He will accuse twenty Witches, if he can thereby

bring one honest Person into trouble: He mixeth Truths with Lies, that so

those truths giving credit unto lies, Men may believe both, and so be

deceived. (344)
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Because of the complexity and ambiguity that reverberate throughout the tale, it

seems to be very hard, if not unattainable, for the reader “to explain the archness of

Hawthorne’s allusions and the idle reverie of [one of his haunting] sketches” (Kazin

18-19). However, by clinging to the fact that “Young Goodman Brown” has a

historical dimension, Levin believes that constant literal hints to Brown’s callow and

fallen nature can be brought out, thereby unravelling the genuine meaning that lies

beneath the tale’s surface.

By contrast, Hurley’s article, “Young Goodman Brown’s ‘Heart of Darkness,’” is

an attempt to approach the short story from a contemporary psychological angle. Not

unlike Hawthorne’s tale, Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness,” replete with “mystery,

desolation, and sorrow,” is, psychoanalytically speaking, a pure manifestation of

Marlow’s unconscious mind (Conrad 79). It intrinsically “represents Marlow’s journey

as ‘a journey into the self,’ an ‘introspective plunge,’ ‘a night journey into the

unconscious’” (qtd. in Levenson 153). By the same token, Hurley maintains that

Goodman Brown’s journey is a sort of subconscious retreat into the dark self. Thus,

the tale should be viewed as a disclosure of drastic self-perversion:

My point here is that “Young Goodman Brown” is a subtle work of fiction

concerned with revealing a distorted mind. I believe the pervasive sense of

evil in the story is not separate from and outside its protagonist; it is in and

of him. (411)

“Young Goodman Brown’s ‘Heart of Darkness’” came as a psychological

response to a work of art which lets it be known that, following Hawthorne’s 1836

note-book, “there is evil in every human heart” (qtd. in Doren 74).

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In his critique, “Shadows of Doubt: Spectre Evidence in Hawthorne’s ‘Young

Goodman Brown,’” Levin posits that “Young Goodman Brown” portrays a spectral

“pilgrimage” into evil. During this pilgrimage, the protagonist “witnesses a spectral

performance directed by a very competent and very real devil” (Budick 220). The

latter, traditionally notorious for his wiles and powers, discourages his victim, Brown,

from making the right decisions as regards what seems firm and indisputable evidence

based on a historical argument (219). Accordingly, I would like to cite a key passage

that many critics have conceived of as a clue either to “Brown’s psychological

weakness” or to “his theological innocence” so that to justify Brown’s shadowy

journey into sinfulness (221):

“Too far! too far!” exclaimed the Goodman, unconsciously resuming his

walk. “My father never went into the woods on such errand, nor his father

before him. We have been a race of honest men and good Christians since

the days of the martyrs; and shall I be the first of the name of Brown that

ever took this path and kept.”

“Such company, thou wouldst say,” observed the elder person,

interpreting his pause. “Well said, Goodman Brown! I have been as well

acquainted with your family as with ever a one among the Puritans; and

that’s no trifle to say. I helped your grandfather, the constable, when he was

I that brought your father a pitch-pine knot, kindled at my own hearth, to set

fire to an Indian village, in King Philip’s war. They were my good friends,

both; and many a pleasant walk have we had along with you for their sake.”
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“If it be as thou sayest,” replied Goodman Brown, “I marvel they never

spoke of these matters; or verily, I marvel not, seeing that the least rumor of

the sort would have driven them from New England. We are a people of

prayer, and good works to boot, and abide no such wickedness.”

(Hawthorne 6-7)

In this passage, the “traveller with the twisted staff” (7), Levin puts forward, is

portrayed as reasoning with Brown as they walk into “the heart of the dark wilderness”

(11). The former coaxingly “tries to convince [the latter] that the best men are wholly

evil” (Levin 348). To put it another way, in order to induce hopelessness, the Devil

here makes Brown awake to the true sins of his own forefathers, on the basis of which

he builds his evidence. Following E. Miller Budick, the fact that young Goodman

Brown innocently yields to what has been said about his father and grandfather implies

that he does not judge “as a [purely] seventeenth-century Puritan,” but rather “from the

standpoint of a detached, objective, ahistorical moralist” (221). Levin discloses the

foolishness of the Puritan youth, in the sense that the latter, for all his youth and

inexperience, takes the Father of Lies’ words “too” seriously “as his neighbours did in

1692,” and ingenuously speaks his mind that “Faith is the foundation of his reluctance

to become a witch” (348).

In 1966, Levin’s 1962 article was attacked by Hurley who was not at all satisfied

with Levin’s claim that the issues dealing with human nature are “beyond the limits of

fiction” (Levin 351). He—Hurley—points out that the horrible experience, which

Goodman Brown has undergone in the company of his “own personal devil” (413) to

attend the “unholy communion” (Walsh’s phrase 333), depicts the evil facet of
 Abdoulkhalak 8

Brown’s own psyche. Unlike Salem Village, the forest, like the one in “Heart of

Darkness,” is associated with the dark depths of the unconscious (Guerin et al.142). As

for the Devil, he is, in Colacurcio’s terms, “nothing more than the emergence of

Brown’s most unpuritanical unconscious” (50). Within this framework, Brown’s

journey is basically a psychological journey into, as well as a tentative exploration of,

the inner self. In this case, “any belief in” the Puritan youth’s simple and virtuous

character, as Hurley argues, is destroyed—upon his departure from his wife, Faith—by

his awareness of “the sinfulness of his trip” (412). Goodman Brown says:

What a wretch am I to leave her on such an errand! She talks of dreams, too.

Methought as she spoke there was trouble in her face, as if a dream has

warned her of what work is to be done to-night. But no, no; ’t would kill her

to think it. Well, she’s a blessed angel on earth; after this one night I’ll cling

to her skirts and follow her to heaven. (Hawthorne 5)

According to Hurley, the passage is ironical, and its irony lies in the suggestion that

Brown’s own salvation is in the power of Faith (i.e. faith) rather than in his own. This

conviction emanates from “the strength of Brown’s identification of his wife as a

morally superior ‘blessed angel’” (Keil 44).

As I mentioned earlier, Hurley agrees with Levin on the fact that the end of the

gloomy journey is marked by Goodman Brown’s loss of faith after he has been

subjected to gradual doubt of and disillusionment with his own society to which “he is

morally responsible” (417), namely his ancestors who “persecuted Quakers and

murdered Indians in mass,” his highly-respected “elders who still live,” and finally his

lovely spouse, all of whom “the shadow of sin falls upon” (Van Doren 77). For both
 Abdoulkhalak 9

Levin and Hurley, that conclusion—Brown’s loss of faith—is obviously based on the

protagonist’s avowal: “My Faith is gone!” (Hawthorne 11). This avowal is justified at

the end of the story, since we are told that Goodman Brown “lives out his life

thereafter a hollow shell of a man” (Pearce 232).

Levin, nonetheless, attributes Brown’s forest “visions” to the power of “the

seventeenth-century Devil” who, according to a historical fact, “could produce

spectres, with or without the consent of the people they resembled” (350). In “Young

Goodman Brown,” the Devil plays on Brown’s “lack of proper historical

consciousness” on the basis of which he makes use of spectre evidence, thus begetting

Brown’s “failure in moral decision-making” (Budick 219). In other words,

What prevents the evaporation of reality into dream, what ensures the

distance between the perceiving self in the world, and hence what restrains

the imagination from engulfing a reality that is largely at the mercy of the

individual’s perceptual authority, is historical consciousness. Historical

consciousness respects the integrity of a world outside the self […]. (218)

In the very light of the above citation, what Levin seeks to convey in his article is

that, in Buddick’s terms, Hawthorne’s tale is “an attempt to generalise the notion of

spectrality to cover the question of history” (qtd. in Colacurcio 65). Levin’s striking

point is that the process of spectral evidence, be it airy or ghostlike, stems from the

Devil’s hearsay about the misdemeanours of Brown’s Puritan forefathers. The Father

of Lies, ipso facto, dedicates himself through the rest of the journey to conjuring up

spectres of the disrespectful Goody Cloyse, of the lascivious minister’s and Deacon

Gookin’s “disembodied voices” (Levin 349), of the fateful pink ribbon, of the Arch-
 Abdoulkhalak 10

fiend, and eventually of the guilty Faith, all constituting “a storm that passes through

and through [Brown], leaving no portion of his soul unblasted” (Van Doren 76). In the

same way, James L. Williamson summarises Brown’s spectral journey:

Just so Goodman Brown’s innocent venture into the devil’s woods, and

simple concessions to the devil’s arguments will end in his permanent loss

of peace and happiness. And just so will Brown come to find himself

trapped in a world of uncertainties and spectral appearances. (156)

As a matter of fact, Levin observes that young Goodman Brown—“a prospective

convert”—is willingly convinced of all the evidence presented to him by the Devil

(350). Thus, Levin’s reading of “Young Goodman Brown” as a story “about Brown’s

doubt, his discovery of universal evil” leads him to conclude that it—the tale—is to be

a crystal-clear portrayal of “a crisis of faith and agony of doubt” (qtd. in Levin 351):

We must notice that Brown finally does exorcise the spectral meeting, but

that he can never forget his view of the spectres or the abandon in which he

himself became the chief horror in the dark wilderness. He lives the rest of

his life in doubt, and the literal doubt depends on his uncertainty about

whether his wife and others are really evil. […]. It is the spectral quality of

the experience both—its uncertainty and its unforgettable impression—that

makes the doubt permanent. (351)

Hurley, on the other hand, ascribes Brown’s “visions” of the forest incidents to

“his suspicion and distrust, not [to] the Devil’s wiles” (411). Therefore, he assures that

Goodman Brown’s night adventure can be described as “an ego-induced fantasy, the

self-justification of a diseased mind” (419). In view of this, the dark figure, described
 Abdoulkhalak 11

as “bearing a considerable resemblance” to the protagonist himself (Hawthorne 6), is

“Brown’s alter ego” (Guerin et at. 142). Accordingly, the Puritan lad “cannot ‘stand

firm against the devil!’ (Hawthorne 10) because Satan is within” (Apseloff 103):

And, maddened with despair, so that he laughed loud and long, did

Goodman Brow grasp his staff and set forth again […]. The road grew

wilder and drearier and more faintly traced, and vanished at length, leaving

him in the heart of the dark wilderness, still rushing onward with the instinct

that guides mortal man to evil. […]. But he was himself the chief horror of

the scene, and shrank not from its other horrors. (Hawthorne 11)

This dark passage, as Hurley contends, is very expressive of “Brown’s ‘neurotic

predisposition’ (Levy’s phrase 375) [and] surrender to evil” (417). Psychologically

conceived, “the origins of Brown’s behaviour,” Michael Tritt writes, “lie buried

beneath his consciousness. As a result, Brown is trapped, an unwary prisoner of forces

acting from within” (117). To crown it all, completely overpowered by evil—after

having seen Faith taking part in the Devil’s communion, the final straw that breaks his

moral resistance—young Goodman Brown cannot be but entirely certain of the sour

truth that the world belongs to the Prince of Darkness. Hurley reads the story as a

complete corruption of the young protagonist’s mind and heart. He goes on to claim

that since the journey “[was] willed”, Goodman Brown, ignorant of his “own kinship

with evil,” is willing as well “not to see sinfulness but only in others” (419).

To all intents and purposes, Levin puts as much emphasis upon the function and

the perception of evil powers in Puritan society in nurturing Brown’s vision. On this
 Abdoulkhalak 12

basis, the young Puritan’s unswerving conviction in the authenticity of his perceptions

evinces his own justification and capacity for sin:

Hawthorne does not tell us that none of the people whom Brown comes to

suspect is indeed a diabolical agent, but he makes it clear that Brown has no

justification for condemning any of them—and no justification for

suspecting them, except for the shadowy vista that this experience has

opened into his own capacity for evil. (351)

What Levin is trying to tell us is that Brown has no evidence that the people he doubts

are “the fiend-worshippers” (Hawthorne 14). Apart from this, Hawthorne sarcastically

informs us from the outset of the tale that Brown is already “justified in making more

haste on his present evil purpose” (5). From the seventeenth-century Puritan vantage

point, what Brown is not aware of is that what he has witnessed “may only exhibit the

inevitable imperfection of all fallen humankind, the inescapable interference of the

devil” (Budick 221).

Hurley, unlike Levin, seems not to look at “Young Goodman Brown” as a

historical fiction in that he strongly maintains that the tale is not only a “strange dream

of the subconscious” (413), but also “a kind of a debate” with the inner self (414). In

short, it is a journey not into the forest in its literal sense, but rather into the human

heart. For Goodman Brown, as Hurley is perhaps trying to say, the human heart is a

“universe to be explored” (Van Doren 85). Hawthorne describes it in The American

Notebooks:

The human heart to be allegorised as a cavern; at the entrance there is

sunshine, and flowers growing about it. You step within, but a short
 Abdoulkhalak 13

distance, and begin to find yourself surrounded with a terrible gloom and

monsters of divers kinds; it seems like Hell itself. You are bewildered, and

wander long without hope. At last light strikes you. You press towards it

yon, and find yourself in a region that seems, in some sort, to reproduce the

flowers and sunny beauty of the entrance but all perfect. These are the

depths of the heart […]; the gloom and the terror may lay deep; but deeper

still is this eternal beauty. (qtd. in Van Doren 85)

Ironically, Hurley’s intention is to show us, as readers, that Brown’s “heart [smites]

him” because his secret “evil purpose” leads him only to the dark depths of his heart

and ultimately to gloomy death (Hawthorne 5).

According to Hurley, the Puritan youth journeys into his heart and finds himself

enveloped in mist of “shadow, dark, and gloom” (412); however, he never discerns

“the light” in the true “depths of the heart” (qtd. in Doren 85). He never realizes that

“the gloom and the terror may lie deep; but deeper still is the eternal beauty” (85). As

Hurley’s article’s title suggests, young Goodman Brown sees in the world only the

darkness of his own heart within which “the evil overflows” (411). This reading, as

one critic argues, unveils two noteworthy dimensions. First, Brown projects his own

sinfulness upon others. Second, Brown believes he is guilt-free (Tritt 116). Likewise,

“Young Goodman Brown” explores Hawthorne’s belief—that evil lurks in every

human’s heart—through its climactic picture of the Arch-fiend’s sacramental sermon

on “‘depending upon one another’s hearts’ (Hawthorne 15) so that to avoid

scrutinising their own” (Leverenz 117). This doubtless leads us to the resolution that

evil is also within Hawthorne himself. “Writers,” Hawthorne noted, “are always poor
 Abdoulkhalak 14

devils, and therefore Satan may take them” (qtd. in Williamson 155). Hence, in

Hawthorne’s tale, the devil appears to be the spokesperson for Hawthorne’s own dark

and ambiguous ideas (156).

Levin, above and beyond all, seems not to be troubled by the question of whether

Goodman Brown’s forest ordeal is a dream or “a reality which is unquestionably

spectral” (352). Hawthorne himself leaves it a matter of question whether or not young

Goodman Brown “[has] fallen asleep, and only dreamed a wild dream” (Hawthorne

16). As for the Puritan protagonist, “being overwhelmed by the discovery of the power

of evil,” he cannot tell the difference between the real and the imagined (Levy 386). In

either case, Levin adds, “the meaning remains the same” (352), that is, faith has been

shattered and replaced by absolute doubt and desperation. The indecision is due to the

fact that, as Leo B. Levy put it,

Hawthorne recognizes that our waking life and the life of dreams are bound

up together—that life is like a dream in its revelation of terrifying truths. His

point is that the truth conveyed in the dream is also a truth of waking

experience. (376)

In essence, the reader cannot but be sympathetic with the Puritan lad in his

dilemma with regard to spectral evidence because the historical reality has been

devotedly and reasonably reproduced by “some evil force outside the self” (Budick

224). However, as Budick argues,

[P]resent and historical reality both may appear to be spectres. But spectres

reflect a solid and inaccessible selfhood that individuals can never penetrate

and that they must, consequently, always respect. Goodman Brown errs
 Abdoulkhalak 15

because, like other witch hunters, he fails to respect the integrity of other

human beings; he cannot grant them the same perceptual freedom he claims

for himself. (225)

This passage clearly brings to light Brown’s egocentricity through his dismissal

of his ancestors and his “fellow Salemites,” which makes him conceive of the world as

confirmation of his self-righteousness (225). As he returns home, he places himself

“not outside the community but above it” (Pearce 237), not knowing that, as

Colacurcio has suggested, spectre evidence stands for the guilty desire he suppresses

in his inner self (58). Therefore, “human history,” Kazin pleads, “proceeds from

within, where every individual is alone with the mystery of sin” (17). This is

something I perfectly stand up for.

As a matter of fact, “Young Goodman Brown,” like many of his other tales, is

Hawthorne’s way of going down the depths of his mind where he is obligated to face

and live with evil (Van Doren 95). “From within,” Leverenz writes, “[Hawthorne]

could critique his culture, transgress himself, and affirm the play of meanings so basic

to any life of the mind” (124). In other terms, what we should be sure of is that the tale

represents some phase of New England history as well as Hawthorne’s true interest,

notably the deeper moving parts of human nature. Roy Harvey Pearce, for instance,

argues that Hawthorne’s tale is merely symbolic—“symbolism whose authority lies in

its historicity” (235). Ageless and universally self-perpetuating, Hawthorne’s real

motivations, to cut a long story short, are “not historical but human” (Colacurcio 39).

This conclusion is not to be read “as a rejection of history but as a defence against

egotism” (60).
 Abdoulkhalak 16

Regardless of Levin’s and Hurley’s readings of “Young Goodman Brown,” I do

not regret having read and studied such a thematic tale, which has been well

conceived. On the whole, “Young Goodman Brown” happens to be a dramatically

mysterious work of art which, theologically speaking, pictures evil as a universal

hallmark of human nature and allows us, as modern readers, to have a bird’s eye view

of the New England past through the eyes of a proficient short-story writer. Within this

frame, I believe that historical and psychological criticism supplement one another,

and that each has its own validity and can, therefore, complement our judgement of

Hawthorne’s masterpiece. In any case, the short story is brilliant enough to prompt the

reader to pass over whatsoever narrative imperfections there might be.

 Abdoulkhalak 17

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Language Association 101. 2 (Mar. 1986): 218-232.

Colacurcio, Michael J. “‘Certain Circumstances’: Hawthorne and the Interest of

History.” New Essays on Hawthorne’s Major Tales. Ed. with

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Connolly, Thomas E. “Hawthorne’s ‘Young Goodman Brown’: an Attack on

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Conrad, Joseph. “Heart of Darkness.”

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 Abdoulkhalak 18

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 Abdoulkhalak 19

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