Good or bad?  – A Literary Analysis of “The Crucible” by Arthur Miller
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Good or bad? – A Literary Analysis of “The Crucible” by Arthur Miller

In “The Crucible,” Arthur Miller plays two women whose characters, when juxtaposed, seem to contrast starkly with each other. Although the exact words are not used, one woman is basically presented in the story as “good” and the other woman as “bad”. Such black-and-white failings of these characters would be ironic, considering Arthur Miller wrote his play to expose the dangers of judging people with different mindsets or belief systems. Miller portrayed that such illogical reasoning is dangerous or, at the very least, counterproductive.

By exploring the characters and motives of the two main women, Abigail Williams and Elizabeth Proctor, a rough microcosm emerges, paralleling the message of the story as a whole. The reader begins to recognize that there is more at stake than a superficial representation of “good” versus “evil.”

Abigail Williams, the “bad” girl, is introduced in the play as the ringleader who brought other girls to a taboo meeting; her main goal was to cast a spell on Elizabeth Proctor, the wife of John Proctor, with whom she had an affair when she lived with them as a servant. Clearly, what was for John a little detour from the path of morality was for Abigail the doorway to a new world. Abigail was confused and her reasoning was illogical, but that was no different from the logically impeded perspective of many in the city of Salem, even the most powerful and best educated. Abigail’s reasoning that if Elizabeth died, she would get John fits well with the illogical views of many characters in the play. Her motives were, in a morally secure world, wrong; however, they were so well hidden that few saw through her persecuted guise of innocence.

If Abigail’s reasoning was illogical and her motives impure, her methods definitely tipped the scales against her character. She was willing to let numerous innocent people be accused and die. In many cases, she sat in the accuser’s seat. Having the story written as a novel might have been helpful at this point, because the only glimpse into Abigail’s point of view is the argument she had with John Proctor, which Arthur Miller cut for a while from the story.

In that conversation, the young woman seemed completely convinced of the rightness of her cause as well as entranced by her fantasy that she would have John once his wife died: “God gave me the strength to call them liars… Oh, John, I’ll do it.” of you such a wife when the world is white again” (150). Maybe Abigail was really deluded, or maybe she was very good at playing the part, even for John Proctor. It’s almost that she, at that time, had gone so far that she, whether she believed her lie or whether she was deliberately faking it all the time, she knew it would be suicide to stop there.

At the end of the story, the “evil” woman escaped, flawless in the eyes of many, into the night, having stolen her uncle’s money to get her away from the volatile situation. Here again the reasoning of the men in power can be questioned. If the main accuser was gone, having stolen money – which in those days must have been a more tangible crime than sending one’s spirit to hurt another in the night – wouldn’t it stand to reason that perhaps his testimony should be disputed? However, such an idea never surfaced and the men who sustained the lives in the domain of their trial continued on their unconscious path to false convictions and ultimately murder.

Elizabeth Proctor, on the other hand, was the “good” woman. She jumped right into the story in the first scene of Act II, an awkward scene to read. The unnatural speech between husband and wife resembles a thinly stretched egg skin covering over a wound. When John Proctor exploded towards the end of their dialogue, his words acted as a crack in that tight cover, yet Elizabeth simply handed over the power of judgment to him, saying, “I do not judge you. The magistrate sits on your heart. who judges you. I never considered you anything but a good man” (55). This heated exchange brings to light the issues that surfaced under her surface in her marriage, which don’t come fully to light until the end of the play.

The clearest insight into Elizabeth’s mind and heart comes from a conversation that took place at her and John’s last meeting: “I have read my heart these three months, John. I have my own sins to tell. A wife is needed.” cold”. to incite lust… I counted myself so vulgar, so badly done, that no honest love could come to me! Suspicion kissed you when I did; I never knew how to say my love. It was a cold house that I kept” (137).

Here, Elizabeth’s heart was exposed in a way no other character’s was, and the deeper reason why they had a strained marriage is shown. Elizabeth always considered herself inferior, unpleasant. One can only imagine the world of her younger years, possibly one child of many, forgotten and overlooked, most likely judged harshly for petty crimes. One represents little joy in such a community and a one-sided approach to Christianity, which was an Old Testament form of legalism without the promise of love and forgiveness. Not once in history were concepts like everlasting joy, abundant life, or forgiving love ever mentioned. It was all judgment and harsh sentences, the very element that Jesus questioned when he exposed the motives of the religious class of his day, the Pharisees.

Elizabeth’s character represented, in a way, all those who grew up under the yoke of distorted belief systems. Her perspective and existence were a product of that upbringing, though she probably didn’t know it herself. In this sense, Elizabeth’s character was not very different from Abigail’s. Raised with little love and little true understanding of the world around them, these women’s only survival was their obedience to rules that in many cases were neither logical nor biblical. Both women were plagued by fear: Elizabeth by the fear of not being loved and could never truly be loved for who she was; Abigail, fearing that if she didn’t take matters into her own hands, she would spend her life alone and unhappy.

In the end, Elizabeth found out that they really loved her. Perhaps it was too little too late, but her husband loved her. Her husband was willing to give her life, maybe not exactly or entirely for her, but in a way her act represented that selfless love. John Proctor’s love for his wife gave him the strength to confess his deeds to Abigail, and although he put him in a bad position and brought him death, he preferred to die for the love of his wife than live without her. One analysis states that “Elizabeth’s noblest act comes at the end when she helps the tortured John Proctor to forgive himself just before his death” (Shmoop).
History reveals that Elizabeth Proctor, although charged, was not convicted. If Arthur Miller was accurate in her portrayal of her character, one can only hope that her life was transformed by the fact that she knew she was loved. Maybe she didn’t feel so simple and didn’t act so suspicious, because true love transforms the heart in ways that can’t be explained but only experienced. Abigail, on the other hand, ran away from the situation, running away from her fear in the end. It can only be assumed that she followed her to the end of her days. Her story was not a “happily ever after” as she never faced the things she feared the most.

The “good” woman and the “bad” woman were both products of their upbringing. Still, they had the power to choose whether this would determine their decisions or whether they would rise above and take the harder path of truth, acceptance of even one’s deepest fears, and love. One is not surprised, considering the actions of these two women throughout history, by the decisions they made in the end. There was no character arc for Abigail, but there was for Elizabeth, who came to understand love and forgiveness in a way she had never understood. Presumably, she hopefully freed her to truly live.

Works Cited

Miller, Arthur. The crucible: script. New York: Penguin, 1996. Print.
Shmoop Editorial Team. “Elizabeth Proctor in The Crucible”. Shmoop.com. Shmoop University, Inc., November 11, 2008. Web. March 17, 2014.

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