Brute Cliché

This is my essay on Abigail Williams, as portrayed in Arthur Miller's The Crucible.

Enjoy!

Though its citizens would fervently deny such a claim, Puritan society was rife with demons; and, as all demons, these ones had their prey. The society had people who had engaged in sinful activity, whether deliberately or inadvertently. Perhaps even more common were the people who took a violent, unforgiving aversion to sin. Lastly, there were those who were too blind to see the nature of sin—its causes, its effects and the impressions it makes upon society. In The Crucible, Arthur Miller’s groundbreaking play about a terror-stricken Puritan community, Abigail Williams fell into all three groups; Yet, at the same time, she was somewhat a victim of each group, and, therefore, had no place in the Puritan society—for her own good or for the good of those around her.

In a realistic world, sin tempts all people. Some are strong and hold back from their temptations. Some others, however, succumb to the allure of immoral solutions to everyday problems. Even the virginal girls of The Crucible’s society were not strong enough to remain pure, going to the slave Tituba and learning “charms” to win over their loves. Abigail Williams, however, entered that forest with something that none of the other girls had: malice. Desperate to win over her supposed lover, John Proctor, Abigail used Tituba’s rituals to attain something more than mere affection from her alleged paramour. According to Abigail’s cousin, Betty Parris, Abigail “drank a charm to kill John Proctor’s wife” (page 1044). So, not only did Abigail engage in an already sinful activity, but she intended to invoke a far more wicked power than her own will—whether it existed or not. While it is true that the young, misguided Abigail could have, like the other girls, been drawn by the decadent appeal of having one’s true love fall head over heels instantly,—with the help of Tituba’s “Barbados songs” (page 1039),—she entered that dead grove of arbor with ill intention upon Elizabeth Proctor—ill intention being the very essence of sin. Based on her aberrant cavorting with malevolent spirits, Abigail Williams was one of the bitterest of villains; and, like many villains, Abigail Williams knew how to cover her tracks—a good quality, considering the opinions of her community.

Puritan society, in almost all senses, relied on conformity and regularity. Change is often a threat to this. Even more threatening—considering the fact that this town is one rigidly bound by the Holy Scripture—is sin. The very thought of witches in a town that prides itself for its good morals is enough to fell the faint of heart and to send the entire community into a manic frenzy. Abigail knew that, if implicated, she would surely be hanged for her sinful behavior. Scared by the thought that the community which had guided her life from a very young age would be the same one to end it, Abigail accused Tituba, knowing that the Puritan settlers might be inclined to distrust a native of a heathen country. With the attention directed away from her,—well, the negative attention, at least,—Abigail was safe and sound. But was she really safe, or was there another enemy of Abigail Williams?

The Reverend Parris—for reasons unknown, his first name is never given—is a very egocentric man, in such a way that a modern person of God might find his actions unbecoming of a clergyman. He interprets almost any implication that his associates are not up to par as a personal attack on him and his ministry. His insecurity causes him to be unfairly harsh with people—even to his niece, Abigail—in order to assure himself that his leadership in the local ministry will be safe. That being said, he was not afraid to get angry, either. Although Abigail may or may not have been on the best terms with her uncle, she venerated him enough to fear his wrath. Parris saw the implication of his niece as John Proctor “blackening [his] name”. He surely would have punished her more severely than others if she indeed had a hand in the illicit dealings of Salem. So, while it is true that Abigail Williams deliberately bore false witness to the “witchcraft” of the women of the community, she did so out of a fear of retribution from her community and from her uncle. In this matter, the forces of good and evil in Abigail Williams are too balanced for a significant distinction to be made. It is perhaps this blurring of the lines between the two forces that contributed to the utter confusion that came as a result of Abigail’s actions.

As much as some insisted otherwise, no one could really be sure that the cries of witchcraft were indeed true. It is this uncertainty that added to the terror within the community. The fear of witchcraft was indeed so menacing that it blinded people from their common sense, leading them to believe even the most outrageous claims in a desperate hope that finding a scapegoat could put an end to their misery. Acting on their blindness, Abigail Williams spoke of other supposed witches with whom she had seen the devil: “…I saw Sarah Good with the Devil! I saw Goody Osburn with the Devil! I saw Bridget Bishop with the Devil!” (page 1060) Whether driven out of spite or out of fear,—or even because she was, apparently, such a talented actress,—the people of the Puritan community believed Abigail’s screams of witchcraft, and ended up tearing apart their society and ending the lives of many who were probably innocent. In that sense, the Puritan society had also sinned, bringing about a downfall of sorts to their own town. Few people in the community—besides, perhaps, Reverend Hale, John Proctor and all others accused—were of sound enough judgment to realize that their actions were ruining their standards of living. Even Abigail Williams, maybe, was too shortsighted to predict what effect her lying would have on society.

The life of Abigail Williams was one ridden with tragedy and loneliness. She was robbed of her childhood by her parents’ murder and sent to a father figure who did not give her the affection she needed. Children in general were taught by their parents that they were sinful and had to atone themselves in order to be saved from damnation. One can imagine that this only aggravated Abigail Williams’s already fractured soul. As she said to her friends, in order to warn them of her fervor to keep their wicked actions secret: “I saw Indians smash my dear parents’ heads on the pillow next to mine, and I have seen some reddish work done at night, and I can make you wish you’d never seen the sun go down!” (page 1044) The tragedy of her parents’ death clearly had made her a bitter person, defensive of herself as if the entire world is plotting against her. Angry at the society which had taken her under its wing and might now so swiftly cast her aside, she cried witchcraft. She reveled in the new attention, with people viewing her as a bringer of justice. However, even she realized that the whole matter had gone too far when her beloved John Proctor was accused. Horrified with the damage she had caused and unable to face the consequences of her actions, Abigail fled the community. So, even though she deliberately took advantage of the hysteria which had spread throughout her town, she was of high enough character to finally see the evil of her actions and did what she needed to put an end to the madness, both for herself and for the community: she fled. In this light, Abigail Williams was the most tragic of victims; although she was really more like a fallen angel, for, even though she finally tried to put an end to the lunacy, she had readily contributed to it and was too blind to realize it.

The Puritan community was doomed from its origin. Sin is too tempting a force to be overcome by sheer human will and prayer. Abigail Williams is a testimonial to this: she knowingly partook in sinful actions for her own benefit and preyed on the rabid terror of her peers. At the same time, though, she was also a victim of sin’s effects, in her fear of retribution which would come from her own sins and in her inner torture which was only aggravated by the morals of Puritan society. In all manners, the Puritan world would have killed this paradox called Abigail Williams had she remained in it any longer. It was, therefore, wise of her to escape the town before she suffered from a complete collapse. Blind for most of her life, Abigail was, for once, enlightened—finally seeing the error of her ways—when she left the town of Salem, ridding herself of the social structure which tore her apart inside and ridding the townspeople of her treachery. So, although Abigail was someone of subprime virtue, she was, in many ways, a victim of society; the complex history of Abigail Williams makes it impossible to define her as only one, and she is therefore better categorized as someone who had no place in Salem at all. That’s not to say, however, that she is of complete moral balance—she was quite probably more wicked than not; but, although no one mourns the wicked, even the worst deserve a nod.