Category: English Literature
Six Degrees of Separation:
An Analysis of the Characters of Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible”
Author:
Ti Hsu. National Nanke International Experimental High School. Bilingual 11th Grade
Teacher Advisor:
Ms. Amanda Yang
I. Forward
In Arthur Miller’s 1952 play “The Crucible”, the author adroitly illustrates human
nature from several different angles. Through an exploration of guilt and redemption, Miller
tells the story of the town of Salem in the 1600s at the height of the witch-hunt hysteria. The
male protagonist John Proctor is plagued by the guilt of having committed the sin of adultery
with former servant Abigail Williams. Thus, his relationship with his wife, Elizabeth, the
townspeople, and the eventual judges of the Salem Witch Trials become strained and it is
through the processing and expulsion of this guilt that he is set free by the end of the play.
The dynamics between the characters and each of their individual personalities make
the play an interesting examination of basic drive and human nature. The method of analysis
utilized in this paper is similar to the one described in Terry Eagleton’s Literature Theory: An
Introduction. The further scrutiny of five major characters provide a clear illustration not only of
guilt, disillusionment, and continued self-deceit, but more importantly, of truth and redemption.
II. Character Index
1. John Proctor
2. Elizabeth Proctor
3. Abigail Williams
4. John Hale
5. Deputy Governor Danforth
1. John Proctor
John Proctor, the tragic protagonist of Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible”, is a man haunted
by the convention and expectations fostered upon him by his society. Proctor is upright, honest,
and intelligent, yet the secret that he harbors is a direct contradiction of his character and thus
causes him much agony.
Because he committed the sin of adultery with former servant Abigail Williams, Proctor
believes that this act has rendered him a broken man, and though he had hoped for atonement
once he confessed his crime to his wife, the truth has only placed further strain on their
relationship. Proctor is resentful of Elizabeth because she can no longer bring herself to trust or
forgive him. This, in turn, only intensifies his inability to forgive himself.
“ Proctor. You will not judge me, Elizabeth...Let you look to your own improvement
before you judge your husband any more.” (Miller 194) Proctor is perpetually accusing his wife
of “judging” him, and this fear of a personal verdict reflects the truth depths of his guilt.
In essence, Proctor is a tortured individual, one who cannot stand injustice (as shown by
his intense disgust and dislike towards the corrupt Reverend Parris), yet feels guilty and insecure
because the adultery he committed is a stigma on his reputation. His most prized possession is
his good name and the associations that accompany it. He is an intelligent, independent member
of the Salem community, and takes great pride in his identity. Unafraid to confront those whose
actions seem based on bigotry or self-interest, he ridicules those like the greedy Reverend Parris
without hesitation.
“Parris. There is a party in this church. I am not blind; there is a faction and a party!
Proctor. Against you?
Putnam. Against him and all authority!
Proctor. Why, then I must find it and join it!” (Miller 181)
It is in conversations such as the one above that Proctor displays his confidence, defiance,
and self-assurance. Unlike the majority of Salem’s residents, Proctor does not acquiescence
without hesitation to theocracy. Instead, he feels an innate need to question, and it is exactly this
defiance that leads him to his downfall. There is no lack of hubris in Proctor’s nature, yet his
pride makes him all the more admirable.
Eventually, Proctor realizes that the only way he can halt the witch hunts and end
Abigail's quest for vengeance is if he confessed their affair publicly and destroyed both Abigail’s-and his own--credibility. Although he attempts to, at first, to foil Abigail’s damning accusations
through Mary Warren’s testimony, the struggle eventually fails, and Proctor is forced to
proclaim before the court: “What do you call heaven! Whore! Whore!....She thinks to dance with
me on my wife’s grave! And well she might, for I thought of her softly. God help me, I lusted,
and there is a promise in such sweat...But it is a whore’s vengeance” (Miller 221)
Ironically, this confession does not destroy Proctor at all, instead, it is his key to
regaining his lost self-worth and self-respect. By confessing his sin, he willingly sacrificed his
most coveted possession to protect and save his wife. He washes himself clean of the hypocrisy
that haunted his spirit, and, in addition, regained Elizabeth’s trust. At the end of act three,
Proctor remains the only individual that understands the true nature of the court that condemned
him to death. “A fire, a fire is burning! I hear the boot of Lucifer, and I see his filthy face, and it
is mine, and yours, Danforth!” (Miller 251) This statement not only displays the fact that
Proctor recognizes the ugliness within himself, but also the heinous, filthy face of human nature
in all.
Proctor redeems himself completely in Act Four, as he is finally able to forgive himself
and make an ultimate denunciation of the Salem Witch Trials. The proud Proctor is no longer
concerned about public opinion as he is about personal integrity. Though he states that he
cannot “mount the gibbet as a saint”, Proctor’s eventual refusal to provide the court with the
satisfaction of his written confession is a true public and personal act of defiance. Although he
understands that a false confession would dishonor his fellow prisoners, most of whom were
prepared to die to preserve their names anyway, Proctor also knows that if he were to confess,
his reputation--and more importantly, his soul--would be forever stained. By ripping apart
the written confession he had already signed, Proctor finally finds the redemption he had so
desperately searched for. His good name is recovered, and his soul set free. As John Proctor is
led to the gallows, he is bolstered by the assurance that this action will bring salvation to his
tortured soul and finally atone for his earlier sins.
2. Elizabeth Proctor
Decent and pious, Elizabeth Proctor is a woman who is steadfast and true. Like her
husband, John, Elizabeth is one of the most tormented characters of “The Crucible”. Upon
discovering that her husband had been involved in an affair with their servant, the seventeenyear-old Abigail Williams, Elizabeth evicts the girl, and has been unable to trust john ever since.
In Act Two, when Elizabeth is first introduced, there is tangible tension between herself
and her husband. Even as John reins in his emotions and does his best to accommodate her,
Elizabeth is ill at ease/
“Proctor. (with a grin) I mean to please you, Elizabeth.
Elizabeth. (It is hard to say) I know it, John” (Miller 192)
Even seven months after Proctor’s confession of adultery, Elizabeth is unable to staunch
her emotions of distrust and suspicion towards her husband. As Proctor himself complains: “I
have gone tiptoe in this house all seven months since she [Abigail Williams] is gone. I have not
moved from there to there without thinking to please you, and still an everlasting funeral
marches round your heart. I cannot speak for I am doubted, every moment judged for lies, as
though I come into a court when I come into this house!” (Miller 194)
However, despite her disappointment in her husband, Elizabeth continues to serve as
John’s “moral compass”. In the heat of the trials, she urges him to expose Abigail for who she
is, “I think you must go to Salem, John. I think so, you must tell them that it is a fraud” (Miller
193). She also provides John with valid and well-meaning advice. Elizabeth is somewhat calmer
than her husband, and it is her insights that guide him whenever he is ambivalent or bewildered
over the correct course of action. “John, grant me this. You have a faulty understanding of young
girls. There is a promise made in any bed...Spoke or silent, a promise is surely made. And she
may dote on it now--I am sure she does--and thinks to kill me, then to take my place” (Miller
197). Elizabeth provides John with alternative approaches to his problems, and by doing so,
proves her love and loyalty towards him.
Elizabeth’s honesty is a defining--and exaggerated trait. “That woman will never lie, Mr.
Danforth” Proctor’s conviction in his wife’s honesty is what leads him to his downfall.
Ultimately, Elizabeth does lie, and it is this lie, a statement meant to protect her husband and his
reputation, that results in Proctor’s arrest.
Throughout the play, Elizabeth struggles with letting go of her anger and suspicion
towards John, and she is not able to do so until Act Four, when she comes to the realization that
she herself had “sins...to count” and that “it took a cold wife to prompt lechery” (Miller 236).
Her acceptance of her own faults, and the fact that she counted herself “so plain, so poorly made,
no honest love could come to me. Suspicion kissed you when I did; I never knew how I should
say my love. It were a cold house I kept!” (Miller 236) With the recognition of this fact,
Elizabeth is able to relinquish her anger and help the agonized John Proctor break free of the
unjust society in which they lived and find his own inner peace.
3. Abigail Williams
Though Abigail Williams is the antagonist of “The Crucible”, she is also the least
complex of the major characters. She is the initiator of the infamous Salem Witch Hunts that
eventually leads to the destruction of lives and families, yet shows no regret or remorse even as
her supposed beloved, John Proctor is condemned to the hangman’s noose. Instead, she flees the
town, maiming those around her even with her final act of defeat.
Williams is introduced as “seventeen...a strikingly beautiful girl, an orphan, with an
endless capacity for dissembling” (Miller 169). Dissembling, indeed. It is later revealed that
Abigail committed the crime of adultery with farmer John Proctor, and was consequently
dismissed from the Proctor household by a jealous Elizabeth Proctor. This incident becomes the
motivation behind Abigail’s quest for vengeance. Driven by intense sexual desire and a thirst for
denied respect and power, Abigail is willing to stop at nothing to obtain what she wants.
Though her motives are far from commendable, one does have to acknowledge Abigail’s
incredible insight and intelligence. She is an apt reader of people; she knows who to please, and
who to threaten. While she masquerades as a helpless young girl in the presence of townsfolk
such as her uncle, Reverend Parris, and the naive Reverend hale, she is a leader among her peers,
a terrifying tyrant that bullies and intimidates, as can be seen from her verbal threats: “Let either
of you breathe a word, or the edge of a word about the other things, and I will come to you in the
black of some terrible night and i will bring a pointy reckoning that will shudder you” (Miller
175). She also comprehends clearly the dynamics of the town in which she lives. This is
demonstrated by her subtle transference of blame from herself to her African American servant,
Tituba.
“Abigail. She comes to me every night to go and drink blood!
Tituba. You beg me to conjure! She beg me make charm-Abigail. Don’t lie!” (Miller 187)
Although only one rung above the slave on the Salem social ladder, Abigail is able to
fully utilize her socio-economic advantage to escape questioning and potential punishment. It is
this scheming nature that allows Abigail to control the town with such adroitness. She finds that,
through claiming she had a direction connection to the divine, she is able to possess more power
than men, ministers, or even the Deputy Governor himself. Yet she is not one to abuse this
power. Abigail understands that she must first establish her credibility, and she does this by first
condemning the outcasts of the town--the homeless and the drunk, and as she gains the court’s
blind trust, the respected and the esteemed, working up to her penultimate goal--eliminating
Elizabeth Proctor.
Abigail believes that if she were to kill Elizabeth, she would be able to ride into a
picturesque sunset with John and live happily ever after. This illusion belies Abigail’s innocence:
she is a young girl fantasizing about her knight in shining armor. Quite independent and
pioneering, Abigail is not a mundane Puritan. She knows that she is able to achieve anything she
sets her heart to, and demonstrates a craving for life and love that is very much suppressed in the
other characters. Yet Abigail’s fiery disposition and will is also the catalyst to her downfall. Her
lack of regard for consequences and dearth of regret is apparent as she condemns innocent
people to hang for her own gain. It is this same coldness she expresses when she realizes that all
has been lost, and that she herself has pronounced John Proctor to hang. Abigail flees overnight,
robbing her uncle of his savings and leaving Salem to death and despair.
4. John Hale
Reverend John Hale is arguably one of the most tormented and complex characters of
Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible”. Hale is a kind man, with well-meaning motives. He first arrives
in Salem harboring hopes of rooting out eviling and bringing “light, goodness and its
preservation” (miller 184). However, by the end of Act Four, the once idealistic reverend has lost
his faith in justice--and God as well.
Described as an intellectual, Hale comes across initially as pompous and overbearing,
prone to announcing his own presence with an armful of heavy books and a cry of “Pray you,
someone take these!” (Miller 184). “They are weighted with authority” (Miller 184) he declares
of his books, assured that they contain all the knowledge of the world.
Hale has been trained as a man of God, and displays remarkable faith in what he has been
taught. His sincere belief in the teachings of the church is shown in statements like: “We cannot
look to superstition in this; the Devil is precise” (Miller 185). To some, the concept of the devil
is regarded as an inherent superstition. Yet, Hale is convinced that the devil is very real, and that
his work and existence should be received as a strict truism. In turn, Hale guards his occupation
zealously, “The Devil can never overcome a minister. You know that, do you not?” (miller 188).
His assurance in his own actions and his faith in God, however, is tested as the witch hunt he
helped initiate begins to whirl out of control.
IN Act Two, the audience may sense a subtle wavering of Hale’s former confidence.
Hale himself pays an unauthorized visit to the Proctors, displaying “a quality of deference, even
of guilt” (Miller 197). The fact that he decides to visit each individual household without the
knowledge or consent of the court speaks of a doubt in his own actions and the validity of his
conclusions. “I am a stranger here, as you know. And in my ignorance I find it hard to draw a
clear opinion of them that come accused before the court” (Miller 198). Thought the statement
above echos Hale’s rising uncertainty, it also demonstrates an independence of thought. Hale is
open-minded enough to confront his own doubts and attempt to draw his own conclusions.
However, Hale remains adamant in his faith. Even after John Proctor informs Hale of his fellow
reverend’s greed and the town’s overall distrust of Parris, Hale makes an excuse for the
minister. “The man is ordained, and therefore the light of God shines in him” (Miller 199). IN
other words, what did it matter to Hale that Samuel Parris was a greedy, sniveling hypocrite--he
was a man of God!
Hale also attempts to defend his most dearly beloved--theology. “Theology, sir, is a
fortress; no crack in a fortress may be accounted small” (Miller 199). Hale’s blind faith is
infuriating for many to behold, yet as he turns to his, his own fortress of conviction receives
another harsh blow. John Proctor, armed with common logic, manages to stump the supercilious
scholar. “There are them that will swear to anything before they’ll hang; have you ever thought
of that?” Hale’s deliberation is shown with his stuttered reply: “I have. I--I’ve had indeed”
(Miller 200).
Hale’s visit to the Proctor house further displays his open-mindedness and flexibility of
mind. By the end of Hale’s interrogation, he himself had given the Proctors the best advice he
could afford to offer: “God keep you both; let the third child be quickly baptized, and go you
without fail each Sunday in to Sabbath prayer; and keep a quiet, solemn way about you” (Miller
200).
Though Hale’s uncertainty in the actions of the court had begun to waver it is clear that
even until the end of the second act that his belief in its justice hasn’t. This can be seen as Hale
attempts to placate an anxious Francis Nurse. “Believe me, Mr. Nurse, if Rebecca Nurse be
tainted, then nothing’s to stop the whole green world from burning. Let you rest upon the justice
of the court. The court will send her home; I know it.” (Miller 201). Ironically, this is the same
court that sentences Rebecca Nurse--and numerous others--to hang without sufficient evidence.
In Act Three, Hale undergoes an utter--and painful--transformation. As he slowly realizes
that Abigail is an obvious fake, and that the court bent too easily to her manipulation, the once
pious idealist is shattered. Though Hale attempts to remain loyal to the court and its proceedings,
and execute his own duties to the best of his abilities (exemplified by his willingness to bare
witness to John Proctor’s ripping of an issued warrant the night before), one is bound to sense a
waiver, a shift of heart.
“Your honor, I cannot think you could judge a man on such evidence” (Miller 211).
Hale’s first feeble defense of John Proctor is soon followed by a bold declaration of the follow of
the court, and the fear that it prompts in the people over which it rules. Hale’s confrontation of
Deputy Governor Danforth may be interpreted as a vain attempt to remind the court of its
humanity and fallibility. “I only fear the Lord, sir, but there is fear in the country nevertheless”
(Miller 221). Though Hale doubts the proceedings of the court, there is no slackening of his faith
in God. Hales has not forgotten that what he is doing in Salem is directly associated with God,
and in turn, he displays a laudable fairness (“A claim so weighty cannot be argued by a farmer.
In God’s name, sir stop here!” (Miller 221)), compassion, and humility. “Excellency,” he
states, “I have signed seventy-two death warrants; I am a minister of the Lord, and I dare not
take life without there be a proof so immaculate no slightest qualm of conscious may doubt it”
(Miller 215). Hale’s personal striving for and definition of justice is probably the most selfless
and noble of the entire court. He is the only member of the congregation that dares question its
decisions and judgements. Yet, Hale is neither a rebel nor a revolutionary--he does not at all
wish to overthrow the court or denounce its authority. In fact, Hale’s defiance is all too easily
suppressed.
“But this child claims the girls are not truthful,” he protests in the third act, “And if they
are not--”
“That is precisely what I am about to consider, sir. What more may you ask of me? Do
you doubt my probity?” (Miller 215)
Hale is then “defeated”, and reassures Danforth that he does not.
Towards the end of the climatic third act, as John Proctor is wrongly convicted before his
eyes, Hale’s former faith in justice is ultimately shattered, and the one self-assured and pious
reverend storms angrily out of the court, publicly denouncing its proceedings.
Hale enters Act Four as a broken man, an individual whose faith has oscillated drastically
from overconfidence to utter disillusionment. Yet it seems that Hale has not abandoned his
duties as a minister, although he now speaks of his obligations in a bitter, sardonic tone:
“Why, it is all simple. I come to do the devil’s work; I come to counsel Christians they
should belie themselves. There is blood on my head! Can you not see the blood on my head?!”
(Miller 234)
Hale makes it his new mission to convince the convicted to confess. “beware, Goody
Proctor--cleave to no faith when faith brings blood. It is mistaken law that leads you to sacrifice.
Life, woman, life is God’ most precious gift; no principle, however glorious, may justify the
taking of it. I beg you, woman, prevail upon your husband to confess. Let him give his life!
Quail not before God’s judgement in this, for it may well be God damns a liar less than he that
throws his life away for pride!” (Miller 234).
This particular speech belies Hale’s transformation. He has lost all former confidence in
the law, and though he attempts to save the lives of the prisoners, it is clear that it is his own
ravaged soul in need of salvation. Hale does not realize that, in urging the prisoners to confess to
crimes they never committed, he is actually only reinforcing the evils of the court: if those
convicted gave in and foiled lies with more lies, then there would be a complete lack of truth.
Hale’s last effort for redemption, however, fails. The man’s final lines in the play convey
deftly his total desolation and spiritual crumbling. As John Proctor marches willingly off to the
gallows, so follows Hale’s remaining chance to atone.
“What profits him to bleed? Shall the dust praise him? Shall worms declare is truth?”
(Miller 240). By surrendering to injustice instead of confronting it, Hale has ruthlessly robbed
himself of any alternatives, any attempts to correct his shortcomings, rendering this tortured man
of God damned for eternity.
5. Deputy Governor Danforth
Deputy Governor Danforth enjoys an inaccurate portrait of himself. As the overseer of
the Salem Witch Trails, he believes his judgments to be astute and becomes irritated to discover
that people fear the court. In Danforth’s ever-self-righteous mind, no innocent man should ever
be apprehensive of the court. Yet this is highly ironic, due to the fact that the court over which he
presides should be feared—because its leader is far from objective, or intelligent.
Danforth rules his courtroom like a despot, however he is a silly and mulish one. He
holds himself in high regard. “Do you know who I am…Do you know near to four hundred are
the in jails from Marblehead to Lynn, and upon my signature...And seventy two condemned to
hang by that signature?” (Miller, 210). This absurd self-assurance is also displayed when
advocates such as Francis Nurse, Giles Corey, or John Proctor attempt to defend their wives.
Danforth immediately asserts that the particular man is trying to overthrow the court, and would
never believe otherwise.
“Danforth. Now sir, what is your purpose in so doing?
Proctor. Why, I—I would free my wife, sir
Danforth. There lurks nowhere in your heart, nor hidden in your spirit, any desire to
undermine this court?” (Miller, 211)
Though Danforth’s concern may seem justified, the precaution that he takes with the
defendants is simply ridiculous compared to his absolute trust in the girls. He is unable to
comprehend the possibility of pretense, and firmly believes that Abigail and the others are
incapable of lying.
“I tell you straight, Mister—I have seen marvels in this court. I have seen people chocked
before my eyes by spirits; I have seen them stuck by pins and slashed by daggers. I have until
this moment not the slightest reason to suspect that the children may be deceiving me. Do you
understand my meaning?” (Miller, 211)
In fact, Danforth seems to repress and browbeat all that enter his courtroom except for
the “strikingly beautiful” Abigail Williams. After John Proctor’s agonized confession of
his affair with the girl, Danforth could only “blanch in horror” then proceed to demand of
Abby: “You deny every scrap and tittle of this?” (Miller, 223), and stand “unsteady” and
speechless as Abigail hisses her reply. The Deputy Governor who dominates the court and
supposedly emphasizes justice is too embarrassed to accuse a seventeen-year-old girl of lying—
because he himself is unable to believe it.
Danforth’s gullibility is one of his more endearing qualities, yet his insular reasoning and
closed-mindedness are not. Danforth’s blind certainty in his own reasoning is exemplified by
Hale’s tentative questioning of his abilities.
“Mr. Hale, believe me; for a man of such terrible learning you are most bewildered—I hope
you will forgive me. I have been thirty-two years are the bar, sir….What more may you ask of
me? Unless you doubt my probity” (Miller, 215)
The last portion of his speech lingers as a threat. Danforth feels that his integrity is
compromised every time someone questions his judgment. Even when his logic is proven false,
he refuses to acknowledge that he had ever been mistaken. In Act Four, Danforth repudiates
the fact that the trials may have been fraud, even in the face of Abigail’s flight, and insists
on the executions of those sentenced to hang. “I will not receive a single plea for pardon or
postponement. Them that will not confess will hang. Twelve are already executed; the names of
these seven are given out, and the village expects to see them die this morning. Postponement
speaks a floundering on my part; reprieve or pardon must cast doubt upon the guilt of them that
die till now. While I speak God’s law, I will not crack its voice with whimpering. If retaliation
is your fear, know this—I should hang ten thousand that dared to rise against the law, and an
ocean of salt tears could not melt the resolution or the statutes.” (Miller, 233) This particular
speech illustrates deftly Danforth’s stubbornness, and his concern for reputation and outward
appearances. He is determined to carry out the hangings to avoid tarnishing his reputation. He
reasons that if he were to excuse the prisoners, then he would ultimately lose face and dignity,
the possessions which he most prized. Although he accuses many of bartering with the Devil, it
seems that he is truly the one who traded justice, humility, and morals for power and corruption.
III. Conclusion
Through the examination of the six characters mentioned above, one can clearly gauge
the skill with which Arthur Miller chose to examine the diverse ways different individuals deal
with crisis, guilt and hysteria. John Proctor is set free by the recognition of his guilt, and
Elizabeth is able to let go of her anger by assisting him in the process. Abigail Williams runs
from her sins in order to escape punishment. John Hale’s vision of his entire world was shattered
by a deeper understanding of mob rule, and Samuel Parris and Deputy Governor Danforth are
two who remain as adamant as ever in their narrow-minded view of the world. Miller expresses a
unique and very real view of the world and intrinsic human nature.
IV. Bibliography
Eagleton, Terry. Literary Theory: An Introduction. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota,
1983. Print.
Miller, Arthur. The Crucible. New York, NY: Penguin, 1996. Print.
"Understanding "The Crucible" A Play by Arthur Miller." A Research Guide for Students.
Web. 29 Mar. 2012. <http://www.aresearchguide.com/crucible.html>.