The story begins as two teenage girls are behaving extremely oddly – they seem dazed, between waking and sleeping. As this medical phenomenon had no apparent rational, scientific explanation at that time, many looked to the devil for clarification. The children were probably acting in a way that we would now describe as ‘psychosomatic’, a behavioural disorder with apparently inexplicable symptoms, a result of a traumatic experience. The girls admitted their amateur dabbling, however in court, they were seized by hysteria as they uncovered their new found powers. They named (perfectly innocent) people who they had ‘seen’ with the devil, before they ‘returned’ to the light. Danforth explains, ‘…witchcraft is ipso facto, on its face and by its nature, an invisibly crime, is it not? Therefore, who may be witness to it? The witch and the victim. None other. Now we cannot hope the witch will accuse her self; granted? Therefore we must rely on her victims – and they do testify, the children certainly do testify.’ This, it seems, is what Danforth, the deputy governor of the entire region and judge of the witch trials, basses his infallible trust of the girls on.
Of the many pressures asserted on to the characters, regular attendance at church was high on the list. Thomas Putnam, the son of the richest man in the village (and therefore assured of his self-importance) accuses Proctor early on in the play: “…I do not think I saw you at Sabbath meeting since snow flew”, implying Proctors repeated absence from church. Attending church, it seems, is not entirely for ones spiritual well being, but to satisfy those around you. Proctor counters, ‘I have trouble enough without I come five mile to hear him preach only hellfire and bloody damnation. Take it to heart, Mr Parris. There are many others who stay away from church these days because you hardly ever mention God any more.’ Again, it seems he emphasises the evident ‘lack’ of God in church, and in deed, Salem. Later on, he states that when he was last there “…he [i.e. Reverend Parris] spoke so long on deeds and mortgages I thought it were an auction.” Proctor goes on to admit that he “see [s] no light of God in that man”, again implying Parris. In fact, only one or two of the characters seem to have any kind of joy in their salvation, as one would have expected from a committed Christian.
Referring back to the mistrust of anything but normality, it could be easily argued that non-attendance at church on the Sabbath was allied with submission to the devil and implied witchcraft. Arguments against such accusations were extremely difficult, as the accuser stood on very high moral ground; it is clearly stated in the Bible (Exodus 22:18), “You shall not permit a sorceress to live”. Also, as one accused of witchcraft, the only method of clearings one’s name was denial – there was usually little proof one either way – and one’s opinion was seldom valid.
Another legacy of strictly enforced laws was that discontent brewed quietly below the surface. Putnam demonstrates: “Why, we are surely gone wild this year. What anarchy is this? That tract is in my bounds, it in my bounds, Mr. Proctor.”
“In your bounds? I bought that tract…five months ago.” Although it was not (usually) openly admitted, amongst the people of Salem there were vendettas which could be traced back for generations, ranging from arguments of who’s land was who’s to differing factions when it came to deciding on a candidate for the ministerial office of Salem. These issues caused an untold number of minor arguments, and even resulted at one stage, in a minor skirmish between partisans of differing opinions, in the surrounding forests.
This lead to wide spread hypocrisy through out the village, since people supposedly in a strict religious environment were disobeying their instructions and undermining, in effect, their own ‘beliefs’. In the play, the characters are portrayed accordingly, in three main ways.
Firstly, there is a minority of characters who are shown to be moral, they do what is right, show them selves to be above the other characters, and do not give in to temptation. Proctor is a member of this ‘faction’ (according to Mr. Parris – who thinks that they disapprove of him, and wish to ‘overthrow’ him) although he is, in his own words, ‘…no saint’. Early on in the play it is revealed that he has committed the crime of lechery – however he confesses this to his wife, and she forgives him – even though his wife Elizabeth tells him ‘…its is naught that I should forgive you if you’ll not forgive yourself.’
Secondly there are those characters that, in their heart of hearts, aim to do what is right, and do not intend to harm anybody. However, through easily committed but nevertheless important mistakes - whether it was submission to temptation or plain folly – they fall by the way side. Their mistakes are accidental, not cold-blooded, or carefully planned and one could say they were unlucky, however they are, whichever way you look at it, in the wrong. As Reverend Hale points out, ‘…theology, Sir, is a fortress; no crack in a fortress may be accounted small’. These characters may be depicted as weak willed or unwise, but not shown to be fundamentally immoral.
Thirdly, there is one character that has given a clear choice between right and wrong, and deliberately chose the latter. This character is either scheming, clearly corrupt, selfish, proud or greedy, and is portrayed accordingly. Abigail Williams, the leader of the ‘girls’ is the sole member of this category.
John Proctor is one of the central characters to the plot. He knows he is not perfect, and importantly, does not intend to make him self out to be, therefore drawing a defining line between him and other characters. As he states, ‘...I am no good man. Nothing’s spoiled by giving them this lie that were not rotten long before.’ Here Proctor again refers to the guilt he feels having committed adultery. This comes at a stage in the play where he has a choice between his life and his honesty – ironically if he tells the truth (that he is not involved in witchcraft) - he will surely die, as Danforth will not believe him. As one charged with the unholy crime, no defence on his part is acceptable to the ‘court’ that he has been bought before. The only way of saving his own life is to give a (false) confession – as it was widely believed that this spoke a desire to come back to ‘the Lord’s side’ – and then to produce names of other people he had ‘seen’ with the devil. When either option is undesirable, Proctor experiences great pain in making a decision, as he knows he should not confess – but he thinks he would be a hypocrite if he does not. He tells his wife, ‘…I cannot mount the gibbet [a structure erected for hangings] like a saint. It is a fraud. I am not that man. My honesty is broke, Elizabeth; I am no good man’. This is because he believes others would think he thought himself perfect if he would not give in, and he is almost obsessed with the fact that he is not.
To illustrate, I shall analyse this is a small section of the text, taken from the very end of the play. It is set in the court rooms, where Proctors has been brought to confess, to save his life. He signs his testimony, but realises the implications of his actions are unbearable, and rips up the paper. Hale watches in disbelief, has Proctor effectively forfeits his life, in front of his very eyes. Distraught, he exclaims in disbelief:
HALE
PROCTOR
REBECCA
DANFORTH
Man, You will hang! You cannot!
(his eyes full of tears): I can. And there’s your first marvel, that I can. You have made your magic now, for now I do think I see some shred of goodness in John Proctor. Not enough to wave a banner with, but white enough to keep it from such dogs. (ELIZABETH , in a burst of terror, rushes to him and weeps against his hand) Give them no tear! Tears pleasure them! Show honour now, show a stony heart and sink them with it! (he has lifted her, and kisses her now with great passion)
Let you fear nothing! Another judgement awaits us all!
Hang them high over the town! Who weeps for these weeps for corruption.
Here John finally realises that the he could not live with him self if he gave in to the pressure he was under to lie, and so must chose to do what he knows is right. Elizabeth is understandably distressed, and as she rushes to her spouse, she expresses the emotion of many of the other characters, and the audience greatly sympathises with her. Proctor however, at last sees that he can be proud of himself for doing the right thing, and knows, without becoming arrogant, that he has ‘won’ in the long run, and celebrates by embracing his wife. Rebecca voices his thoughts also, when she reminds those round her, who still do not believe her that all authority on earth comes from God, who has reserved almighty power. Danforth, incensed at the implication that he might not be carrying out the will of God screams at a shocked audience “Hang them high...”
The action in this scene is greatly accelerated, and the excitement is intense. The scene in itself is also very short, and has been built up through the rest of the play.
This scene is set in the converted Salem courtrooms, which adds to the weight of the emotions of everyone present. Those characters in authority are weightier, whereas those characters that have heavy burdens seem to have further weight loaded on to them. The timing, too, is important; set just before sunrise, a huge urgency runs through the scene, which adds to the building tension. John must either hang or confess by first light of the day that was to follow. As it the action is taking place at this time, there is an expectant, yet quiet atmosphere. Songbirds may ironically herald the coming dawn, however though their light melodies are usually refreshing, they only add to John’s strain.
Millar uses a lot of short sentences to keep the plot flowing, and to build up anticipation of the dramatic ending. Many characters have almost reached their breaking points at this stage and speak in short, frantic exchanges. Emotion runs high throughout this final scene, and the audience is not disappointed with the dramatic climax of the play. Millar also utilises repetition to great effect. Characters in this scene often repeat them selves, if reworded slightly, to add impact to their speech. There is no irony in the speech, nor any form of sarcasm or comedy device, which also emphasises the serious nature of the subject of the scene.
Proctor is an average gentleman as far as social status is concerned, so according to the Ancient Greek ‘rules’ of play writing, may not be a tragic hero. They believed that for a character’s fall from grace to be impressive and significant, that they must start from a position of power and status, encounter certain difficulties, and then die. Miller argued that the tragedy of someone, who in the world’s eyes was unimportant, was equally significant, and equally inspiring. There is an interestingly clear parallel, almost a sub plot through out the play, which secure Proctor’s position as a tragic hero.
Imagine: Its about 35 AD and a leader has emerged from the Jewish people. He’s stirring up the crowds, and causing all manner of public disturbances. Reports about Him conflict, but all seem to think He has some kind of authority, unlike that of other men. The leading officials of the land are becoming increasingly worried, as to where their people’s allegiances lie – would this man lead the masses against them? So, they devise a plot to remove him from the scenario, and return to peace. They attempt to trick him in to saying something by which they can convict Him, yet He will not falter. They resort to persuading people to lie about him, arrest him and bring him before the ruler of the land. They persuade him that this leader of the people has committed a number of serious crimes, and he gives in to them. When asked, the rebel leader refuses to lie to save his life. He is sentenced to death.
This leader is of course Jesus, His accusers the hypocritical Pharisees and the ruler Pilate. Now substitute some characters: the ‘Puritans’, lead by Abigail, are the Pharisees, Danforth is Pilate, and Proctor, though not perfect, is the rough equivalent to Jesus. Abigail wishes to see Proctor punished for the pain of rejection he caused her. She leads the Puritans (the girls, Parris and initially Hale) against him. She manipulates Danforth in to believing that he is carrying out his duty by condemning those with a ‘black allegiance’. Proctor refuses to lie, but instead forfeits his life; knowing that he is doing the right thing, as Elizabeth points out ‘…He have his goodness now, God forbid take it from him’.
In this way Danforth and his followers, members of the second category previously mentioned are portrayed as unethical – and that their negligence is not acceptable, as they failed to carry out their duty as Christians.
Consequently, Proctor is named our tragic hero. Notably, the play features heavily on the value of a name, which may come as little surprise bearing in mind that this community relies so heavily on pretences, and keeping up appearances. A name, to the people of Salem, in 1692, represented ones reputation, how other people regarded you. Also important are the beliefs widely held by many primitive peoples concerning the power of the name – which was that if a witch even knew your name, then they had power over you.
Proctor worries a great deal about his name, (or, his reputation), especially when it was in jeopardy. When presented with the choice between his good name and his life he undergoes a huge internal battle. When asked why he cannot ‘confess’ to save him self, he exclaims, ‘because its is my name! Because I cannot have another in my life! Because I lie and sign my self to lies’. Proctor it seems, gradually realises that he cannot, and will not lower himself to the point of blatant lying even if it is to save his own life. However he reduces himself to doing so, yet when he is asked to sign his confession – on paper – he breaks down. Comprehending what he had done, he retracts his statement, as it were, and exclaims ‘Damn the village, I confess to God’.
Still, many of the characters can not understand why Proctor will not ‘give them this lie’ Hale asks, ‘what profits him to bleed…Shall the worms declare his truth?’ But Proctor, it seems has been raised to a new level, above, beyond. An example to us all? For surely, ‘He have his goodness now’.