
—John
Proctor in Arthur Miller’s
The Crucible, 1.2,
p. 44
One of the reasons why I love
this play so much is that Miller gives all of the actors so much to work with,
and this monologue of Proctor’s is no exception. Just shy of the end of Act 1,
Proctor gives this speech when he finds out that Abigail Williams, his wife’s
former serving-girl with whom he had an affair, has accused his upright,
righteous, God-fearing wife, Elizabeth, of witchcraft.
Proctor knows that Abigail
looks to get rid of Elizabeth and take her place in the Proctor household, but
he hasn’t taken her or the situation of the court proceedings seriously until
now. Prior to this accusation, based on the reports from their current
serving-girl, Mary Warren, Proctor and Elizabeth were discussing whether or not
he should visit the court and repeat what Abigail told him the day her cousin
Betty took sick—that the girls were dancing in the woods, got frightened when her
uncle, Rev. Parris, discovered them, and there was no witchcraft involved.
Proctor’s having a difficult
time trying to figure out what to do here, because if he gets involved with the
proceedings, he knows that he will eventually have to admit that he had
relationship with Abigail while he was married. He knows that will damage
his honor, reputation, and family, not to mention his credibility in court.
Proctor’s spent seven months trying to atone for his wrong-doing, and now he’s
attempting to do the right thing by telling the truth of what happened. The
problem is that the town is primed to believe the girls’ lies.

In this speech, Proctor
comments on this wave of vengeance that has swept through Salem, because he
knows that all of these disputes have been simmering under the surface for
years, but have never found their outlet until now. He attempts to get his wife’s
accusers to see the truth, to listen to reason, to realize that the accusers are only seeking vengeance, while the accused are
only confessing because they’ll die if they don’t, but all of this is to no avail. The events
set in motion the night the girls danced cannot yet be stopped. The irony here
is that, in trying to get everyone else to see reason, Proctor is the only one
who is truly acting like the Christian he claims to be—he’s sinned, but he’s
asked forgiveness and made attempts to atone for his sin. Everyone else claims
to be Christian, but they are only looking out for their own best interests—they
are more interested in keeping up appearances than in truly living the faith
they claim to possess.
What I have always love about this story is the fact that the students can choose pieces to act out in my class. We go from groaning about reading to really engaging. I also like to toggle between Miller's real life with the McCarthy era and Proctor's life...
ReplyDeleteYes, absolutely! When students have the chance to act material that is this rich, they begin to really understand the depth of the issue, and why Miller was writing about Salem, and specifically Proctor, during the McCarthy era. Given our current political climate, I'm wondering what will be today's equivalent of "The Crucible," when we look back on this period as history, because the play is certainly as relevant now as it's ever been.
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