Arthur Miller's The Crucible:
A Literary Analysis
I greatly enjoyed Arthur Miller's The Crucible. Rather than a dry
retelling of well-known events, it was a vibrant, realistic tragedy
suffered by likeable, well-rounded characters, which, of course, made me
feel the injustice that much more.
I haven't read many plays. I usually
find them somewhat stale and contrived, at least until I see them
performed. For example, although I had read Wilde's The Importance of
Being Earnest, I didn't appreciate its hilarity until I saw it live.
The Crucible, by contrast, seemed
very real to me. Miller's crisp, tight dialogue masterfully revealed the
thoughts of the characters and explained their actions. I never wondered
why the characters did what they did, as I usually do when reading a play.
I realize Miller intended this piece to
be a statement about the McCarthy "witch hunts" and the hearings
being held by the House Un-American Activities Committee (more on that
later). This play, though, is fully capable of standing by itself as a
statement of unlimited power wielded by apparently well-meaning, albeit
paranoid and delusional, individuals.
John Proctor is the classic protagonist.
A moral, righteous man, who slipped into sin and is racked with guilt
throughout, he is the first to sense what is happening. In Act 1, he
argues fearlessly against Reverend Parris, an obviously ego-obsessed,
vindictive man.
In Act 2, he confesses to adultery to
save his wife and others who have been accused of witchcraft. And at the
end, when offered a chance to save himself and confess his own imaginary
crimes, he is sorely tempted and almost goes through with it, as surely
any ordinary person would. His ultimate goodness is revealed, however,
when he refuses to give names of those he has seen with the Devil. Proctor
himself doesn't recognize this goodness, however, until the very end, when
he rips his signed confession to pieces rather than have Danforth post it
in the village.
When the Reverend Hale cries, "Man
you will hang! You cannot!" Proctor replies, “I can. And there's
your first marvel, that I can. You have made your magic now, for now I do
think to see some shred of goodness in John Proctor. Not enough to weave a
banner with, but white enough to keep it from such dogs." He has
finally resolved his inner conflict, and in doing so signs his own death
warrant.
Although I felt connected with all the
characters and understood their motivations, John Proctor intrigued me the
most. Any person who struggles to do what is right and live a moral life,
and inevitably falters in moments of weakness, can empathize with him.
Another aspect of the play that struck
me was the blatant wrong-headedness of an otherwise intelligent and fair
man, Danforth. He sincerely believes that Abigail and the other girls are
telling the truth. In fact, he believes the girls’ testimony is from
Heaven and therefore cannot possibly be false. He is, quite frankly,
duped. In this case, Miller very effectively portrays the raw power
superstition can wield over normally reasonable people.
I especially enjoyed the stark irony of
signing confessions to avoid prosecution. Danforth never grasps this plain
contradiction. If Proctor will only confess his guilt, then he is set
free. Those who maintain their innocence, such as Rebecca Nurse, are
executed. This can make sense only in an atmosphere of unlimited power and
arrogance. Danforth incredibly believes that he can save Proctor's very
soul by forcing him to confess to a lie. Miller shows us the disastrous
consequences that can result from a person in power who holds such
dangerous illusions.
Which naturally leads us to the symbolic
targets of the drama, Senator Joe McCarthy and the House Un-American
Activities Committee. I am not as familiar with this area of American
history as I would like, especially concerning HUAC. I have read a few
things about the McCarthy era, which I will briefly relate.
For example, I remember reading
elsewhere that the cast of The Crucible paused in protest the night
the Rosenbergs were executed. I found this curious, since the Rosenbergs
were obviously guilty. In KGB: The Inside Story, their history of
the KGB from Lenin to Gorbachev, British historian Christopher Andrew and
KGB defector Oleg Gordievsky write that Julius Rosenberg was a member of
the NKGB spy ring in New York. Andrew and Gordievsky describe the
Rosenbergs as "dedicated, courageous Soviet agents, who believed that
they could best serve the future of their cause by denying their own
association with it." Andrew and Gordievsky also confirm that Alger
Hiss was indeed a spy; furthermore, the top-secret atomic laboratory in
Los Alamos where the bomb was being assembled contained at least two
Soviet spies: Klaus Fuchs and David Greenglass, Ethel Rosenberg's brother.
In fact, Stalin spied on England and the
United States throughout World War Two. After the war, he considered
America "The Main Adversary" and concentrated his intelligence
forces accordingly.
Ironically, McCarthy did more harm than
good to the anti-Communist cause. In Not
Without Honor: A History of American Anti-Communism,
Richard Gid Powers writes that McCarthy's actions "eclipsed the sober
and truthful accounts of communism that anti-Communists had provided over
the past half decade, making anti-communism seem nothing more than the
ravings of a dangerous madman." I heartily agree.
It should be remembered, though, that
McCarthy received his just desserts. As Peter Collier and David Horrowitz
write in their book Destructive
Generation: “... McCarthyism was brief in its moment and
limited in its consequence. And it was complete in the way it was purged
from the body politic. The Wisconsin senator's strut on the national stage
ended in a crushing repudiation by his colleagues in the Senate, and an
enduring obloquy in the rogues' gallery of American history, a position
close to that of Benedict Arnold and a handful of other villains.”
McCarthy was certainly no hero. The
trend that I have noticed, though, is that the people who correctly
condemn the tactics of HUAC and others incorrectly condemn the motivations
behind such actions. They are less concerned with McCarthy's lies and
destruction of due process and more concerned with his targets,
Communists. Collier and Horowitz quote Ellen Schrecker in her book No
Ivory Tower: "After all, what made McCarthy a McCarthyite was not
his bluster but his anti-Communist mission ...” I can't help but get the
impression that if McCarthy had been after, say, neo-Nazis, he would have
been supported rather than condemned. A great example of this occurred
when President Reagan nominated John Koehler as White House Communications
Director. When it came out that, at the age of ten, Koehler had belonged
to a Nazi youth group for one month, liberal Democrats raised such an
outcry that Reagan withdrew the nomination. As Collier and Horowitz wryly
point out, “It was clear that ‘Are you now or have you ever
been’-even for a month when you were ten years old-is a question that is
out of bounds in the political debate only if what you are or were or
might have been was a Communist."
I don't profess to know everything about
McCarthy or that era. I have read enough, though, to realize there may be
more to the story than what is commonly told. What I appreciate most in
Miller's play was the interest that was aroused in me for both 1690’s
Salem and 1950’s Washington, DC, and the desire to learn more.

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