Tol-Timpinen

There's a tempest in yon horned moon,
And lightning in yon cloud,
And hard the music, mariners,
The wind is piping loud;
The wind is piping loud, my boys!
The lightning flashes free,
While the hollow oak our palace is,
Our heritage the sea.

Thursday, November 04, 2004

Each page of Arthur Miller's The Crucible presents another aspect of the human mind for consideration, from an instinctive scrabble for self-preservation to the unblinking calmness with which Elizabeth lies to protect her husband's good name. While no crucibles actually appear on the stage during any act of the play, the lurk just behind the curtain in almost every scene.

When metal ore is purified, the foreign particles within the liquified metal sink to the bottom and are eventually sifted out. The first to be named during the trials are, predictably, those that few liked; the town is cleared of beggars and even most of the poor population rather quickly, and by the end of the play Abigail Williams and her accomplice Mercy Lewis have fled. The losses may be painful to some, but all the same they leave the rest of the town that much cleaner. If nothing else the future generations will have that many fewer temptations to stir up similar trouble. On the other hand, the dregs of society are not all that is discarded; perfectly good citizens like Giles Cory and Rebecca Nurse are executed under the accusation of witchcraft, and Reverend Hale - the sole remaining voice of reason in the town - leaves. The town is robbed of the only voices strong and willful enough to speak out the truth. The unfairness of the situation, when it finally becomes apparent, stirs up a cold animosity and feeds the gnawing feeling of discontent spreading through the town.

However, this purification occurs on more than just the societal level; each individual is stripped of the cozy blanket of illusions that they have been slowly knitting since childhood and left to fend for themselves in the cold. Those that survive know exactly who and what they are. Tituba, Sarah Good, and the others that "confessed" to witchcraft can no longer reassure themselves that they can and will always tell the truth; their opinions of themselves suffer for this. Worse, so does the town's opinion of them. On the other end of the spectrum, those that hanged will always be seen as truthful, respectable, and completely honest. They will become the stuff of legends, the shining example of all that is good around which tale after miraculous tale will coalesce. The downside, of course, is that they will not be around to hear these tales, whereas those who compromised their own morals and scruples to save their skins will.