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ACT ONE

The Crucible

(AN OVERTURE)

A small upper bedroom in the home of Reโ€บ!erend .Samuel Parris, Salem, Massachu etts, in the spi ing of the yeur 1692.

There is a narrow v indowโ€™ at the left. Through its leaded panes the ioritifig sffilfighf streams. .4 candle still but us near the bed, v hich is at the i ight. A chest, a cf7air, and a small table ai e the other Jim nishings. At the back a door opens on the landing of the staiizi ay to the ground fioor. The room giโ€บ!es off an air of clean spureness. The roofrafter at e exposed, and the v!ood colors are ratโ€บ and unmelloยป ed.

.4s Ihe curtain rises, Revei end Parri is discoโ€บ!ered kneeling beside the bed, m!identlยฟโ€ข in prayer. His daughter, BetiJ Parri , aged ten, is lying on f/ie bed, inei t.

At the time of these events Parris was in his middle forties. ln history he cut a villainous path, and there is very little good to be said for him. Hc believed he was being persecuted wherevcr he went, despite his best efforts to win people and God to his side. In meeting, he felt insulted if someone rose to shut the door without first asking his permission. He was a widower with no interest in children, or talent with them. He rcgarded them as young adults, and until this strange crisis lie, like the rest of Salem, never conceived that the children were anything but thankful for being permitted to walk straight, eyes slightly lowered, arms at the sides, and mouths shut until bidden to speak.

His house stood in the โ€œtownโ€โ€”but we today would hardly call it a village. The meeting house was nearby, and from this point outwardโ€”toward the bay or inlandโ€”there were a few small- windowed, dark houses snuggling against the raw Massachusetts winter. Salem had been established hardly forty years before. To the European world the whole province was a barbaric frontier inhabited by a sect of fanatics who, nevertheless, were shipping out products of slowly increasing quantity and value.

No one can really know what their lives were like. They had no novelists-and would not have permitted anyone to read a novcl if one wcre handy. Their crccd forbadc anything resembling a theater or โ€œvain enjoyment.โ€ They did not celebrate Christmas, and a holiday mom work meant only that they must concentrate even more upon prayer.

Which is not to say that nothing broke into this strict and somber way of life. When a new farmhouse was built, friends assembled to โ€œraise the root,โ€ and thcrc would be special foods cooked and probably some potent cider passed around. There was a good supply of neโ€™er-do-wells in Salem, who dallied at the shovelboard in Bridget Bishopโ€™s tavern. Probably more than the creed, hard work kept the morale ofโ€œ the place from spoiling, for the people were forced to fight thc land like heroes for every grain of com, and no wan had very much time for fooling around.

That there were some jokers, howcver, is indicated by the practice of appointing a two-man patrol whose duty was to โ€œwalk forth in the time of Godโ€™s worship to take notice of such as either lye about the meeting house, without attending to the word and ordinances, or that lye at home or in the fields without giving good account thereof, and to take the names of such persons, and to piโ€™esent them to the magistrates. whereby they may be accordingly proceeded against.โ€ This predilection for minding other peopleโ€™s business was time-honored among the people of Salem. and it undoubtedly created many of the suspicions which were to feed the coming madness. It was also, in my opinion, one of the things that a John Proctor would rebel against, for the time of the armcd camp had almost passed, and since the country was reasonablyโ€”-although not whollyโ€”safe, the old disciplines were beginning to rankle. But. as in all such matters, the issue was not clear-cut, for danger was still a possibility, and in unity still lay the best promise of safety.

Thc edge of thc wilderness was close by. The American continent stretched cndlcssly west, and it was full of mystery for them. It stood, dark and threatening, over their shoulders night and day, for out of it Indian tribes maraudcd from time to time, and Reverend Parris had parishionerโ€™s who had lost relatives to these heathen.

The parochial snobbery of these people was partly responsible tor their failure to convert the Indians. Probably they also preferred to take land from heathens rather than from fellow Christians. At any rate, very few Indians were converted, and the Salem folk believed that the virgin forest was the Devilโ€™s last preserve, his hone basc and the citadel of his final stand. To the best of thcir knowlcdge the American forcst was the last place on earth that was not paying homage to God.

For these reasons, among others, they carried about an air of innate resistance, even of persecution. Their fathers had. ofโ€™ course, been persecuted in England. So now they and their church found it neccssary to deny any other sect its freedom, lcst their New Jerusalem be defiled and corrupted by wrong ways and deceitful ideas.

They believed, in short, that they held in their steady hands the candle that would light the world. We have inherited this belief, and it has helped and hurt us. It helped their with the discipline it gave them. They were a dedicated folk, by and large, and they had to be to survive the life they had chosen or been born into in this country.

The proof of their beliefs value to them may be taken from the opposite character of the first Jamestown settlement, farther south, in Virginia. The Englishmen who landed there were motivated mainly by a hunt for profit. They had thought to pick off the wealth of the new country and thcn return rich to England. They were a band of individualists, and a much more ingratiating group than the Massachusetts men. But Virginia destroyed them. Massachusetts tried to kill off the Puritans, but they combined; they set up a communal society which, in the beginning, was little more than an armed camp with an autocratic and very devoted leadership. It was, however, an autocracy by consent, for thcy were united from top to bottom by a commonly held ideology whose perpetuation was the reason and justification for all their sufferings. So their self-denial, their purposefulness, their suspicion of all vain pursuits, their liaiโ€™d-handed justice were altogether perfect instruments for the conquest of this space so antagonistic to man.

But the people of Salem in 1692 were not quite the dedicated tolk that arrived on the Mayflov er. A vast differcntiation had takcn place, and in their own time a rcvolution had unscatcd thc royal government and substituted a junta which was at this moment in power. The times, to their eyes, must

have been out of joint, and to the common folk must have seemed as insoluble and complicated as do ours today. It is not hard to see how easily many could have been led to believe that the time of confusion had been brought upon them by deep and darkling forces. No hint ofโ€™ such speculation appears on the court record, but social disorder in any age breeds such mystical suspicions, and when. as in Salem, wondcrs arc brought forth from bclow the social surface. it is too much to cxpcct pcoplc to hold back very long from laying on the victims with all the force of their tiustrations.

Thc Salem tragedy, which is about to begin in these pages, developed from a paradox. It is a paradox in whose gi ip we still live, and there is no prospect yet that we will discover its resolution. Simply, it was this: for good purposes, even high purposes, the people of Salem developed a theocracy, a combine of state and religious power whose function was to keep the community together, and to prevent any kind of disunity that might open it to destruction by material or ideological encniics. It was forged for a necessary purpose and accomplished that purposc. But all organixation is and must be grounded on the idea of exclusion and prohibition, just as two objects cannot occupy the same space. Evidently the time came in New England when thc repressions of order were heavier than seemed warranted by the dangers against which the order was organized. The witch-hunt was a pcrvcrsc manifestation of the panic which set in among all classes when the balance began to turn toward greater individual freedom.

When one rises above the individual villainy displayed, one can only pity them all, just as we shall be pitied someday. It is still impossible for man to organize his social life without rcpressions, and the balance has yet to be struck between order and freedom.

The witch-hunt was not, however, a mere repression. It was also, and as importantly, a long ovcrduc opportunity for everyone so inclined to express publicly his guilt and sins, under the cover of accusations against the victims. It suddenly became possible-and patriotic and holy-for a man to say that Martha Corey had come into his bedroom at night, and that, while his wife was sleepinat his side, Martha laid herself down on his chest and โ€œnearly suffocated him.โ€ Otโ€ course it was her spirit only, but his satisfaction at confessing himself was no lighter than if it had been Martha herself. One could not ordinarily speak such things in public.

Long-held hatreds ofโ€™ neighbors could now be openly expressed, and vengeance taken, despite the Bibleโ€™s charitable injunctions. Land-lust, which had been expressed by constant bickering over boundaries and deeds, could now be clcvatcd to the arena o1โ€ morality; one could cry witch against oneโ€™s neighbor and feel perfectly justified in the bargain. Old scores could be settled on a plane of heavenly combat between Lucifer and the Lord: suspicions and the envy of the miserable toward the happy could and did burst out in the general revenge.

Re erend ParFi.s is pi a)!ing now, and, though ยป e cannot hear hi.s words, u sen,ie of his confusion firings about hint. He mumbles, then seems about to ii eep, lhen he eeps, then prays again, but his daughter does not stir on the bed.

The door open.i, and hi.s Negro ,sluice enter. . Tiluba is in her forties. PaFri.s bFHHffhi her with him fi om Barhado , nโ€™here he .spent .some yearโ€บ as u merchant befoi e entering the minis tyโ€บ. She enter.s a one does ยป ho can no longer bear to be barred fi om the .sigh I of her beloved, but .she is also very fi ightened hecauโ€บe her .slave en se has v arned her that, a alwa)โ€™ , lFOHble in this house e enttiully

lands on her back.

TITUBA, already taking a step backward.โ€˜ My Betty be hearty soon? PARRIS: Out of here!

TITUBA, backiTlg to the door.โ€™ My Betty not goinโ€™ dic โ€ฆ

PARRIS, scrambling to his feet in a jโ€™um,!.โ€™ Out of my sight! She is gone. Out of myโ€”He is overcome with sobs. He clamps his teeth against them and closes the door and leans against it, exhausted. Oh, my God! God help me! Quaking with fear, niumbl,ing to himself through his sobs, lie goe.s to the bed and genily takes Bettyโ€™.s hand. Betty. Child. Dear child. Will you wake, will you open up your eyes! Betty, little one ..

He is bending to kiieel again when lits niece, .Abigail Williams, seventeen, entersโ€”a strikingly beautiful ,girl, air orphan, vโ€™ith an endless copaci for dissembliiig. Nov she is all iโ€บ or pโ€™ and upprehen sion and pt opriety.

ABIGAIL: Uncleโ€™? He l,ooks to her. Susanna Walcottโ€™s here mom Doctor Griggs. PARRIS: Ohโ€™? Let her come, let her come.

ABIGAIL, leaning out the door to call to Susanna, v ho is donโ€™n the hall a fewโ€™ steps. Come in,

Susanna.

Susanna Walcott, a little younger thaii Abi,gail, a iiem!ous, hiiri red girf, enters.

PARRIS, ea,qerly. What does the doctor say, child?

SUSANNA, cruninp arotmd Pat rig to get u look at Beth : He bid me come and tell you, reverend sir, that he cannot discover no medicine for it in his books.

PARRIS: Then lie must search on.

SUSANNA: Aye, sir, he have been searcliin his books since he left you, sir. But he bid we tell you, that you might look to unnatural things for the cause o1โ€œ it.

PARR IS, his eyes going wide. No-no. There be no unnatural cause here. Tell him 1 have sent for Reverend I lale of Beverly, and Mr. I-Iale will surely confirm that. Let him look to medicine and put out all thought o1โ€ unnatural causes here. There bc nonc.

SUSANNA: Aye, sir. He bid me tell you. She tui ns to go.

ABIGAIL: Speak nothinโ€™ otโ€ it in the village. Susanna.

PARRIS: Go directly home and speak nothing of unnatural causes. SUSANNA: Aye, sir. I pray for her. She goes out.

ABIGAI L: Uncle, the rumor otโ€witchcraft is all about; I think youโ€™d best go down and deny it yourse11\

The parlorโ€™s packed with people, sir. Iโ€™ll sit with her.

PARRIS, pressed, tui us on her.โ€™ And what shall I say to them? That my daughter and my nicce I discovered dancing likc heathen in the forcst?

A BICAIL: Uncle, we did dance; let you tell them I confessed it โ€”and Iโ€™ll be whipped if 1 must be.

But theyโ€™re speakinโ€™ of witchcraft. Bettyโ€™s not witched.

PARRIS: Abigail, I cannot go before the congregation when I know you have not opened with me. What did you do with her in the forest?

ABIGAIL: We did dance, uncle, and when you leaped out of the bush so suddenly, Betty was frightened and then she fainted. And thereโ€™s the whole o1โ€it.

PARRIS: Child. Sit you down.

ABIGAIL, qiiaโ€บ ering, as she sits.โ€™ I would never hurt Betty. I love licr dcarly.

PARR lS: Now look you. child, your punishment will come in lts time. But if you trafficked with spirits in the forest 1 must know it now, for surely my enemies will, and they will ruin me with it.

ABIGAIL: But we never conjured spirits.

PARRIS: Then why can she not move herself since midnight? This child is desperate! Abigail longer s her eyes. It must come out-my enemies will bring it out. Let me know what you done there. Abigail, do you understand that I have many enemies?

ABIGAIL: 1 have heard of it, uncle.

PARRIS : There is a faction that is sworn to drive me from my pulpit. Do you understand thatโ€™? ABIGAIL: I think so, sir.

PARRIS: Now thcn, in the amidst of such disruption, my own household is discovered to be the very ccnter of some obsccnc practice. Abominations arc done in the forest-

ABIGAIL: It were spon. uncle!

PARRIS, pointing at Detยฟ!. You call this sportโ€™? She lovvโ€™ers her eyes. He pleads.โ€™ Abigail, if you know something that may help the doctor, for Godโ€™s sake tell it to me. the is si/cut. 1 saw Tituba waving her arms over the fire when 1 caine on you. Why was she doing that? And I heard a screeching and gibberish coining from her mouth. She were swaying like a dumb beast over that fire!

ABIGAIL: She always sings her Barbados songs, and we dance.

PARRIS: I cannot blink what I saw, Abigail, for my enemies will not blink it. I saw a dress lying on the grass.

ABIGAIL, i0noeestf)โ€บ. A dressโ€™?

PARRISโ€”iI is iโ€ขery hard to say. Aye, a dress. And I thought I sawโ€”someone naked running through the trees!

ABIGAIL, ia ter ror. No one was naked! You mistake yourself, uncle!

PARRIS, uโ€™i/รฑ anger. I saw it! He moโ€บโ€ขes front her. Then, resolved. Now tell me true, Abigail. And I pray you feel thc weight of truth upon you, for now my ministryโ€™s at stake, my ministry and perhaps your cousinโ€™s life. Whatever abomination you have done, give me all of it now, for I dare not be taken unaware when I go before them down there.

ABIGAIL: There is nothinโ€™ more. I swcar it, uncle.

PARRIS, studies her, then nods, half conVfnced.โ€™ Abigail, 1 have fought here three long years to bend these stiff-necked people to me, and now, just now when some good respect is rising for me in the parish, you compromise my very character. 1 have given you a home, child, 1 have put clothes upon your backโ€”now give mc upright answer. Your namc in thc townโ€”it is cntircly white, is it not?

ABIGAIL, with an edge ofresentmFt7t. Why, I am sure it is, sir. There be no blush about my name.

PARRIS, to i/ie point. Abigail, is there any other cause than you have told me, for your being discharged from Cioody Proctorโ€™s serviceโ€™? I have heard it said, and I tell you as I heard it, that she comes so rarely to the church this year for she will not sit so close to something soiled. What signified that remark?

ABIGAIL: She hates me, uncle, she must, for I would not be her slave. Itโ€™s a bitter woman, a lying, cold, sniveling woman, and I will not work for such a woman!

PARRIS: She may be. And yet it has troubled me that you are now sevcn month out o1โ€œ their house, and in all this time no other family has ever called for your service.

ABIGAIL: They want slaves, not such as I. Let their send to Barbados for that. I will not black my lace for any o1โ€œ them! With ill-concealed resentment at him.โ€™ Do you begrudge my bed, uncleโ€˜?

PARRIS: No-no.

ABIGAIL, iii a temper.โ€˜ My name is good in the village! I will not have it said my name is soiled! Goody Proctor is a gossiping liar!

Enier Mrs. .4tin Petiium. Iโ€™ll e is a twisted soul of forty-five, a death-ridden woman, haunted by dreams.

PARRIS, as soon as the door begins to open.โ€˜ No-no, I cannot have anyone. He sees her, and a cei tain deference springs into him, although his woryโ€ข remains. Why. Goody Putnam, come in.

MRS. PUTNAM, still of bi eath, shiny-pโ€™ed.โ€™ It is a marvel. It is surely a stroke of hell upon you. PARRIS: No, Goody Putnam, it isโ€”

MRS. PUTNAM, glancing at Betty : I low high did she fly, how highs

PARRIS: No, no, she never fiew-MRS. PUTNAM. yep pleased v ith it.โ€™ Why, itโ€™s sure she did. Mr. Collins saw her goinโ€™ over lngersollโ€™s barn, and come down light as bird, he says!

PARRIS: Now, look you, Goody Putnam, she neverโ€”Enter Thomas Ptitnam, a resell-to-do, hai d- handed landoโ€บiโ€™ner, near fifty. Oh. good morning, Mr. Putnam.

PUTNAM: It is a providence the thing is out now! It is a providence. He goes directly to the bed.

PARRIS: Whatโ€™s out, sir, whatโ€™s-?

Mr . Piitnutn goe.s to the bed.

PUTNAM, looking doc ii ut Betty. Why. her eyes is closed! Look you, Ann. MRS. PUTNAM: Why, thatโ€™s strange. To Parris.โ€™ Ours is open.

PARRIS, shocked. Your Ruth is sickโ€™?

MRS. PUTNAM, north vicious certainty. Iโ€™d not call it sick; the Devilโ€™s touch is heavier than sick. Itโ€™s death. yโ€™know, itโ€™s death drivinโ€™ into them. forked and hoofed.

PARRIS: Oh, pray not! Why, how does Ruth ailโ€™?

MRS. PUTNAM : She ails as she must-she never waked this morning, but her eyes open and she walks, and hears naught, secs naught, and cannot cat. Her soul is taken, surely.

Pat i is is struck.

PUTNAM, as though for further details. Thcy say youโ€™vc sent for Revercnd Hale o1โ€œ Beverlyโ€™?

PARRIS, ith d indling conviction iiowโ€™ A precaution only. He has much experience in all demonic arts, and I-MRS. PUTNAM: He has indeed; and found a witch in Beverly last year, and let you remember that.

PARRIS: Now, Goody Ann, they only thought that wcre a witch, and I am certain thcre bc no element of witchcraft here.

PUTNAM: No witchcraft! Now look you, Mr. Pai+is-PARRIS: Thomas, Thomas, I pray you, leap not to witchcraft. 1 know that you-you least of all, Thomas, would ever wish so disastrous a Gharge laid upon me. We cannot leap to witchcraft. They will howl inc out of Salem for such corruption in my house.

A word about Thomas Putnam. He was a man with many grievances, at least one of which appears justified. Some time before, his wifeโ€™s brother-in-law, James Bayley. had been turned down as minister of Salem. Bayley had all the qualifications, and a two-thirds vote into thc bargain. but a faction stopped his acceptance, for reasons that are not clear.

Thomas Putnam was the eldest son of the richest man in the village. He had fought the Indians at Narragansett, and was deeply interested in parish affairs. He undoubtedly felt it poor payment that the village should so blatantly disregard his candidate for one of its more important offices. especially since he regarded himself as the intellectual superior of most of the people around him.

His vindictive nature was demonstrated long before the witchcraft began. A former Salem minister, Cieorge Burroughs, had had to borrow nosey to pay for his wifeโ€™s funeral, and, since the parish was rcmiss in his salary, hc was soon bankrupt. Thomas and his brother John had Burroughs jailed for debts the man did not owe. The incident is important only in that Burroughs succeeded in becoming minister where Bayley, Thomas Putnamโ€™s brother-in-law. had been rejected; the motif of rcscntmcnt is clear here. Thomas Putnam Alt that his own namc and thc honor of his family had been smirched by the village, and he meant to right matters however he could.

Another reason to believe him a deeply embittered man was his attempt to break his fatherโ€™s will, which left a disproportionate amount to a stepbrother. As with every other public cause in which he tried to force his way, he failcd in this.

So it is not surprising to find that so many accusations against people are in the handwriting of Thomas Putnam, or that his name is so often found as a witness corroborating thc supernatural testimony, or that his daughter led the crying-out at the most opportune juncturcs o1โ€™ thc trials, especially whenโ€”But weโ€™ll spcak of that when we come to it.

PUTNAMโ€”at the moment he is intent upon getting Parr is, for whom he has only contempt, to move tovโ€™ard the abyss.โ€˜ Mr. Parris, I have taken your part in all contention here, and I would continue; but I cannot if you hold back in this. There are liurtfiil, vengeful spirits layinโ€™ hands on these children.

PARRIS: But, Thomas, you cannotโ€”

PUTNAM: Ann! Tell Mr. Parris what you have done.

MRS. PUTNAM: Reverend Parris, I have laid seven babies unbaptixed in the earth. Believe me, sir, you never saw more hearty babies born. And yet, each would wither in my arias the very night of their birth. I have spoke nothinโ€™, but my heart has clamored intimations. And now, this year, my Ruth, my only- I sec her turning strange. A secret child she has become this year, and shrivels like a sucking mouth were pullinโ€™ on her life too. And so I thought to send her to your Tituba-

PARRIS: To Tituba! What may Titubaโ€”?

MRS. PUTNA M: Tituba knows how to speak to the dead, Mr. Parris. PARRIS: Goody Ann, it is a formidable sin to conjure up the dead!

MRS. PUTNAM: 1 take it on my soul, but who else may surely tell us what person murdered my

babiesโ€˜?

PARRIS, hori ifled. Woman!

MRS. PUTNAM: They were murdered, Mr. Parris! And mark this proof! Mark it! Last night my Ruth were ever so close to their little spirits; I know it, sir. For how else is she struck dumb now except some power of darkncss would stop her mouth? It is a marvelous sign. Mr. Parris!

PUTNAM: Donโ€™t you understand it, sir? Thcrc is a murdering witch among us, bound to keep herself in the dark. Parris turns to Bet), a frantic terror risin,g in hint. Let your encmies make of it what they will. you cannot blink it more.

PARRIS, to Abigail. Then you were conjuring spirits last night. A BlCiAIL, whispering. Not I, sir-Tituba and Ruth.

PARRIS turiis novโ€ข, v ith nez fear, arid goes to Betty, looks doyen at her, and then, gazing off.โ€˜ Oh, Abigail, what proper payment for my charity! Now I ant undone.

PUTNAM: You arc not undonc! Let you take hold here. Wait for no one to charge you eclarc it yourself. You have discovered witchcraft-

PARRIS: In my house* In my house, Thomas? They will topple me with this! They will make of it a-

Eiilei Mercy Leni.โ€น, lhe Putnanis em!an I, a far, sly, mei ciless girl of eighteen.

MERCY: Your pardons. 1 only thought to see how Betty is. PUTNAM: Why arenโ€™t you home? Whoโ€™s with Ruth?

MERCY: Her grandma come. Sheโ€™s improved a little, I think-she give a powerful sneeze before.

MRS. PUTNAM: Ah, thercโ€™s a sign of life!

MERCY: Iโ€™d fear no morc, Goody Putnam. It were a grand sneeze; another like it will shake her wits together, Iโ€™m sure. She goes to the bed to look.

PARRIS: Will you leave inc now, Thomas? I would pray a while alone. ABIGAIL: Unclc, youโ€™ve prayed since midnight. Why do you not go down andโ€”

PARRIS: No-no. fo Putnum. I have no answer for that crowd. 1โ€™11 wait till Mr. Hale arrives. To get Mrs. Piitnam to leaโ€บโ€ขe: If you will, Goody Ann โ€ฆ

PUTNAM: Now look you, sir. Let you strike out against the Devil, and the village will bless you for it! Come down, speak to them-pray with them. Theyโ€™re thirsting for your word, Mister ! Surely youโ€™ll pray with them.

PARRIS, swayed.โ€™ Iโ€™ll lead them in a psalm, but let you say nothing of witchcraft yet. I will not discuss it. The causc is yet unknown. I have had cnough contcntion sincc I came; I want no more.

MRS. PUTNAM: Mercy, you go home to Ruth, dโ€™yโ€™hear? MERCY: Aye, mum.

Mrs. Piitnum goes out.

PA RRIS. to Abigail.โ€™ If she starts for the window, cry for me at once. ABIGAIL: I will, uncle.

PARRIS, to Putnani. There is a terrible power in her arms today. He goes otit n ith Piilnani.

A BIGAIL, ixโ€˜itli huyhed ti epidatioii. How is Ruth sickโ€˜?

MERCY: Itโ€™s weirdish, I know not-she seems to walk like a dead one sincc last night.

ABIGAIL, turns at once and goes to Betly, arid now, vโ€นith fear in her โ€บ oice. Bettyโ€˜? Betty doesnโ€™t move. She shakes her. Now stop this! Betty! Sit up now!

Betty doesnโ€™t stir. Mercy comes over.

M ERCY: Have you tried beatinโ€™ herโ€ I gave Ruth a good one and it waked her for a minute. Here, let me have her.

ABIGAIL, liolditig Mercy back.โ€™ No, heโ€™ll be comin up. Listen, now; if they be questioning us, tell them we danced-I told him as much already.

M ERCY: Aye. And what moreโ€™?

A BIC A IL: He knows Tituba conjured Ruthโ€™s sisters to come out of the grave. MERCY: And what more?

ABIGAIL: IIe saw you naked.

MERCY. clapping her hands together nโ€™ith a frightened laugh. OhJesus!

El7ter Clary Warren, breathless. She is sei!enteen, a subsem!ient, naiโ€™i e, lonely girl.

MARY WARREN: Whatโ€™ll we do? The village is out! I just cone from the farm; the whole

countryโ€™s talkinโ€™ witchcraft! Theyโ€™ll be call inโ€™ us witches. Abby!

MERCY. pointing and looking at Mai y Warren. She weans to tell, I know it.

MARY WARREN : Abby, weโ€™ve got to tell. Witchcryโ€™s a hanginโ€™ error, a hanginโ€™ like they done in Boston two year ago! We must tell the truth, Abby! Youโ€™ll only be whipped for dancinโ€™, and the other things!

ABIGA IL: Oh, u c โ€™// be whipped!

MARY WA RREN: I rlever done none of it, Abby. I only looked!

MERCY, mpviag menacingly tonโ€˜ard Mary.โ€™ Oh, youโ€™re a great one for lookinโ€™, arenโ€™t you, Mary Warrenโ€™? What a grand peeping courage you have!

flety, on the bed, v himpers. Abigail turns to her at once.

ABIGAIL: Bettyโ€™? She goes to Betty. Now, Betty, dear, wake up now. Itโ€™s Abigail. She sits Betty tip and fiiriously shakes her . Iโ€™ll bcat you, Betty! Betjโ€ข whimpers. My, you seem improving. I talked to your papa and 1 told him everything. So thereโ€™s nothing to-

BETTY, darts off the bed, frightened p/fibigai/, and fattens herself against t/te vโ€™all.โ€˜ want my mama!

ABIGAIL. north alarm, as she cautiously approaches Betty. What ails you, Betty? Your mamaโ€™s dead and buried.

BETTY : Iโ€™11 fly to Mama. Let me fly! She i arses her arms as thot,igh to fly, and .streaks for lhe v indoยป, gets one leg out.

ABIGA IL, pulling lieF onO f ft om the window. I told him everything ; he knows now, he knows everything weโ€”

BETTY: You drank blood, Abby! You didnโ€™t tell him that! ABIGAIL: Betty, you never say that again! You will never-

BETTY: You did, you did! You drank a charm to kill John Proctorโ€™s wife! You drank a charm to kill Goody Proctor!

ABIGAIL. smashes her across the face: Shut it! Now shut it!

BETTY, collapsing on the bed. Mama, Mama! She dissoli es into sobs.

ABIGA IL: Now look you. All of you. We danced. And Tituba conjured Ruth Putnamโ€™s dead sisters. And that is all. And mark this. Let either of you breathe a woiโ€™d, or the edge of a word, about the other things, and I will come to you in the black of somc tcrriblc night and I will bring a pointy reckoning that will shudder you. And you know I can do it; I saw Indians smash my dear parentsโ€™ heads on thc pillow ncxt to mine. and I have seen some reddish work done at night, and I can inakc you wish you had never seen thc sun go down! She goes to Betqโ€ข and roughly sits her up. Now, you-sit up and stop this!

Bul Betty collapses iii her hnnds and lies inert on the bed.

MARY WARREN, ith hysterical fright. Whatโ€™s got her? Abigail stares in fright at Betty. Abby, sheโ€™โ€ข going to die! Itโ€™s a sin to conjure. and we-

ABIGAIL. starting for May. I say shut it, Mary Warren!

Enler John Proctor, hn seeing him, Mui)โ€บ Lai i en Ieupsโ€™ in frighl.

Proctor was a farmer in his middle thirtics. Hc need not have been a partisan of any faction in the town, but there is evidence to suggcst that he had a sharp and biting way with hypocritcs. Hc was the kind of manโ€”powerful of body, even-tempered, and not easily ledโ€”who cannot refuse support to partisans without drawing their deepest resentment. In Proctorโ€™s presence a fool felt his foolishness instantly-and a Proctor is always marked for caluinny therefore.

But as we shall see, the steady manner lie displays does not spring from an untroubled soul. He is a sinner, a sinner not only against the moral fashion of the timebut against his own vision of decent conduct. These people had no ritual for thc washing away o1โ€™ sins. It is another trait we inherited from them, and it has helped to discipline us as well as to breed hypocrisy among us. Proctor, respected and even feared in Salem, has come to rcgard himself as a kind of fraud. But no hint of this has yet appeared on the surface, and as he enters from the crowded parlor below it is a man in his prime we see, with a quiet confidence and an unexpressed, hidden force. Mary Warren, hi s servant, can barely speak for embarrassment and tear.

MARY WARRF.N: Oh! 1โ€™in just going horne, Mr. Proctor.

PROCTOR : Be you foolish, Mary Warren? Be you deaf? I forbid you leave the house, did 1 not? Why shall 1 pay you? I am looking for you more often than my cows!

MARY WARREN: 1 only come to see the great doings in the world.

PROCTOR: Iโ€™ll show you a great doinโ€™ on your arse one of thcsc days. Now get you home; my wife is waitinโ€™ with your work! Tr) ing to retain a shred of dignity, she goes slowly out.

MERCY LEWIS, both afraid of him and strangely titillated. Iโ€™d best be off. I have my Ruth to watch. Good morning. Mr. Proctor.

klercy sidle.s out. Since Proctor โ€˜s entrance, Abigail has stood as though on tiptoe, absorbing his presence, vโ€™ide-eyed. He glances at her, their goe.s to Betty on fhe bed.

ABICiA IL: Cah! Iโ€™d at most forgot how strong you are, John Proctor!

PROCTOR. looking It Abigail now, the faintest suggestion of a knowing smile on his face: Whatโ€™s this inischietโ€hcre?

ABICiAIL, v ith a neoโ€ขou.v laugh.โ€™ Oh, sheโ€™s only gone silly somehow.

PROCTOR: The road past my house is a pilgrimage to Salem all morning. The townโ€™s mumbling

witchcraft.

ABIGAIL: Oh, posh! Winningly she comes a little closer, v itli a confidentinl, wicked air. We were dancinโ€™ in the woods last night. and my uncle leapcd in on us. She took fright, is all.

PROCTOR, his smile widening: Ah, youโ€™re wicked yet, arenโ€™t yโ€˜! .4 trill of expectant laughter escapes her, and she dares come closer, fei erishly looking ii7to his pees. Youโ€™ll be clapped in the stocks before youโ€™re twenty.

He takes a step to go, and she springs iiito his path.

ABIGAIL: Give mc a word, John. A soft word. Her concen ti ated desire destroys his smile.

PROCTOR: No, no, Abby. Thatโ€™s done with.

ABIGAIL, /aonting/y.โ€™ You come five inilc to see a silly girl thy? I know you bcttcr.

PROCTOR, setting her firmly out of lits path. I come to see what mischief your uncleโ€™s brew inโ€™ now. iTith finul cโ€ขmpha.โ€บis: Put it out of mind, Abby.

ABIGAIL, gra ping hi.s hand hefore lie can relea.:e her . John-1 am waitinโ€™ for you every night. PROCTOR: Abby, I never give you hope to wait for me.

ABIGAIL, now beginning to anger-she canโ€™t believe it.โ€™ I have something better than hope, I think! PROCTOR: Abby, youโ€™ll put it out of mind. Iโ€™ll not be coininโ€™ for you more.

ABIGAIL: Youโ€™re surely sportinโ€™ with me. PROCTOR: You know me better.

ABIGAIL: I know how you clutched my back behind your house and sweated like a stallion whencver I come ncar! Or did I drcam that? Itโ€™s shc put me out. you cannot pretend it were you. 1 saw your face when she put me out, and you loved me then and you do now!

PROCTOR: Abby, thatโ€™s a wild thing to sayโ€”

ABIGAIL: A wild thing iriay say wild things. But not so wild, I think. I have seen you since she put mc out; I have seen you nights.

PROCTOR: I have hardly stepped off my farm this sevenmonth.

ABIGAIL: I liavc a sense tor heat, John, and yours has drawn me to icy window, and 1 liavc secn you looking up, burning in your loneliness. Do you tell me youโ€™ve never looked up at my window? PROCTOR: I may have looked up.

ABIGAIL, itoiv softening. And you must. You are no wintry man. I know you, John. I kB w you. She is weeping. I cannot sleep for drcaminโ€™; 1 cannot dream but I wake and walk about the house as though 1โ€™d find you coininโ€™ through soiTie door. She cltitches him desperately.

PROCTOR, gently pressing her Ji om him, v ith great sympathy but Jimsly.โ€™ Childโ€” ABIGAIL, v ith a flush of unger.โ€™ How do you call me child!

PROCTOR: Abby, I may think of you softly from time to time. But I will cut off my hand before Iโ€™ll ever reach for you again. Wipe it out of mind. We never touched, Abby.

ABIGAIL: Aye, but we did. PROCTOR: Aye, but we did not.

ABIGAIL, with a bitter anger. Oh, I marvel how such a strong man may let such a sickly wife beโ€” PROCTOR, angeredโ€”nt himself as v ell: Youโ€™ll speak nothinโ€™ of Elizabeth!

ABIGA IL: She is blackening my name in the village! She is telling lies about me! She is a cold. sniveling woman, and you bend to her! Let her turn you like aโ€”

PROCTOR, .shaking her. Do you look for whippinโ€?

.4 psalm i.s heard heing .โ€บSurg below!.

ABIGAIL, in tears.โ€˜ I look for John Proctor that took me from my sleep and put knowledge in my heart! I never knew what pretense Salem was, I never knew the lying lessons I was taught by all these Christian women and their covenanted men! And now you bid me tear the light out of my eyes? 1 will not, I cannot! You loved me, John Proctor. and whatever sin it is, you love we yet! He turns ahrtiptly to po otit. .the rashes to hint. John, pity me, pity we!

The words โ€œgoing up to Jestiโ€บโ€™ โ€ ui e heat d in the psalm, and Retty clap.s her ears suddenly anJ vโ€™hine.s Intidly.

ABIGAIL: Bettyโ€™? She huri ies to Bet,ty, who is on sitting up and screaming. Proctor goes to Betty as Abigail is trying to pull her hands donโ€™n, calling โ€œBethโ€บ!โ€

PROCTOR, gFowing unnemโ€ขed.โ€™ Whatโ€™s she doingโ€™? Girl, what ails you? Stop that wailing! The singing has stopped in the midst of this, and i7OH Parris rashes in.

PARRIS: What happened? What are you doing to her? Betty! He rushes to the bed, cyโ€ขing, โ€œBet]โ€ข, Betty.! โ€ Mr.s. Putitani enter.s, feโ€บโ€ขeFiSh with clii iosity. Ond with her Thomu.s Putnum and Met cy Ley is. Pan is, at the bed, keeps /ig/itfJโ€ข slapping Betty โ€™s face, v hile she moans and tries io get tip.

A BIGAIL: She heard you singinโ€™ and suddenly sheโ€™s up and screaminโ€™.

MRS. PUTNA M: The psalm! The psalm! She cannot bear to hear the Lordโ€™s name!

PARRIS: No, God forbid. Mercy, run to the doctor! Tell him whatโ€™s happened here! Mercy Ley is sshv.โ€บ out.

MRS. PUTNAM: Mark it for a sign, mark it!

Rebecca Nurse, sevenq -Wโ€™o, enters. $โ€™he is zโ€ขhite-haired, leaning upon her walking-stick.

PUTNAM, pointing at the v himpering Betiy . That is a notorious sign of witchcraft afoot, Goody Nurse, a prodigious sign!

MRS. PUTNAM: My mother told me that! When they cannot bear to hear the name ofโ€”

PARRIS, trembling.โ€™ Rebecca, Rebecca, go to her, weโ€™re lost. She suddenly cannot bear to hear the Lordโ€™sโ€”

files Gโ€oi ey, eighty-three, enter s. He is knotted nโ€ขitli muscle, canny, inquisitive, and still po erftil.

REBECCA: There is hard sickness here, Giles Coiey, so plcase to keep the quiet.

GILES: Iโ€™ve not said a word. No one here can tcstify Iโ€™ve said a word. Is she going to fly again? I hear she flies.

PUTNAM: Man, be quiet now!

Eveyโ€ขtli ing is quiet. Rebecca nโ€ขalks across the room to the bed. Gentleness exudes fi om her. Betty is quietly nโ€™hiinpering, eยฟโ€ขes shut. Rebecca simply stands oโ€บโ€ขer the child, iโ€บโ€ขho gradually qiiiets.

And while they are so absorbed, we may put a word in for Rebecca. Rebecca was the wife of Francis Nurse, who, from all accounts, was one of those men for whom both sides ofโ€™ the argument had to have respect. He was called upon to arbitrate disputes as though he were an unofficial judge, and Rebecca also enjoyed the high opinion most people had for him. By the time of the delusion. they had thee hundred acres, and their children were settled in separate homesteads within the same estate. However, Francis had originally rented the land, and one theory has it that, as he gradually paid for it and raised his social status, there were those who resented his rlSC.

Another suggestion to explain the systematic campaign against Rebecca, and inferentially against Francis. is the land war he fought with his neighbors, onc of whom was a Putnam. This squabble grew to tlic proportions of a battle in the woods betwcen partisans of both sides, and it is said to have lasted for two days. As for Rebecca herself, the general opinion of her character was so high that to explain how anyone dared cry her out for a witchโ€”and more, how adults could bring themselves to lay hands on herโ€”we must look to the fields and boundarics of that time.

As we have seen, Thomas Putnamโ€™s man for the Salem ministry was Bayley. The Nurse clan had been in the faction that prevented Bayleyโ€™s taking office. In addition, certain families allied to the Nurses by blood or friendship, and whose farms were contiguous with the Nurse farm or close to it, combined to break away from the Salem town authority and set up Topslield, a new and independent entity whose existence was resented by old Salemites.

That the guiding hand behind the outcry was Putnamโ€™s is indicated by the fact that, as soon as it began. this Topsfield-Nurse faction absented themselves from church in protcst and disbelief. It was Edward and Jonathan Putnam who signed the first complaint against Rebecca; and Thomas Putnamโ€™s little daughter was the one who fell into a fit at the hearing and pointed to Rebecca as her attacker. To top it all, Mrs. Putnam โ€”who is now staring at the bewitched child on the bedโ€”soon accused Rebeccaโ€™s spirit of โ€œtempting her to iniquity,โ€ a charge that had more truth in it than Mrs. Putnain could knowโ€™.

MRS. PUTNA M, astonished: What have you done?

Rebecca, in thought, now leaves the bedside and sits.

PARRIS, wondrous and i elieโ€บโ€ขed. What do you make of it, Rebeccaโ€˜?

PUTNAM, eagerly. Goody Nurse, will you go to my Ruth and see if you can wake herโ€™?

REBECCA, sitting. I think sheโ€™ll wake in time. Pray calm yourselves. 1 have eleven children, and 1 am twenty-six times a grandma, and I have seen them all through their silly seasons, and when it Colne on them they will run the Devil bowlegged keeping up with their mischief. I think sheโ€™11 wake when she tires of it. A childโ€™s spirit is like a child, you can never catch it by running after it; you must stand still, and, for love, it will soon itseltโ€œ cone back.

PROCTOR: Aye, thatโ€™s thc truth of it, Rebecca.

MRS. PUTNAM: This is no silly season, Rebecca. My Ruth is bewildered, Rebecca; she cannot eat.

REBECCA: Perhaps she is not hungered yet. To Pat t is. 1 hope you are not decided to go in search of loose spirits, Mr. Parris. Iโ€™ve heard promise of that outside.

PARRIS: A wide opinionโ€™s running in the parish that the Devil may bc among us, and I would satisfy them that they arc wrong.

PROCTOR: Then let you come out and call them wrong. Did you consult the wardens before you called this minister to look for devilsโ€™?

PARRIS: Hc is not coming to look for devils! PROCTOR: Then whatโ€™s he coming for?

PUTNAM: There be children dyinโ€™ in the village, Mister!

PROCTOR: 1 seen none dyinโ€™. This society will not be a bag to swing around your head, Mr. Putnam. To Parris.โ€™ Did you call a meeting before youโ€”?

PUTNAM: I am sick of meetings; cannot the man turn his head without he have a meeting? PROCTOR: He may turn his head, but not to Hell!

REBECCA: Pray. John, be calm. Panโ€บ e. He defer s to her. Mr. Parris, I think youโ€™d best send Reverend Hale back as soon as lie come. This will set us all to arguinโ€™ again in the society, and we thought to have peace this year. I think we ought rely on thc doctor now, and good prayer.

MRS. PUTNA M: Rebecca, the doctorโ€™s baffled!

REBECCA: If so he is, tlicn let us go to God for the cause o1โ€™ it. There is prodigious danger in the seeking of loose spirits. I fear it, I fear it. Let us rather blame ourselves andโ€”

PUTNAM: How may we blainc ourselves? I am one of nine sons; the Putnam sccd have peopled this province. And yet I have but onc child left of eightโ€”and now she shrivels!

REBECCA: I cannot fathom that.

MRS. PUTNAM, north a gi owing edge ofsarca m: But I must! You think it Godโ€™s work you should never lose a child, nor grandchild either, and I bury all but onc? There are wheels within wheels in this village, and fircs within fircs!

PUTNAM, to Parris .โ€™ When Reverend Hale comes, you will proceed to look tor signs otโ€œ witchcraft here.

PROCTOR, to Putnarn. You cannot command Mr. Parris. We votc by name in this society, not by acreage.

PUTNAM : I never heard you worried so on this society, Mr. Proctor. 1 do not think I saw you at Sabbath meeting since snow flew.

PROCTOR: I havc trouble enough without 1 come five wile to hear him preach only helltire and bloody damnation. Take it to heart, Mr. Parris. There are many others who stay away from church these days because you hardly ever mention God any more.

PARRIS, tion aroused.โ€™ Why, thatโ€™s a drastic charge!

REBECCA: Itโ€™s somewhat true; there are many that quail to bring their childrenโ€”

PARRIS: 1 do not preach for children, Rebecca. It is not the children who are unmindful of their obligations toward this ministry.

REBECCA: Are there really those unirindful? PARRIS: I should say the better half of Salem villageโ€” PUTNAM: And more than that!

PARRIS: Where is my woodโ€™? My contract provides 1 be supplied with all my firewood. I am waiting sincc November for a stick, and even in November I had to show my frostbitten hands like some London beggar!

GILES: You are allowed six pound a year to buy your wood, Mr. Parris.

PARRIS: I regard that six pound as part of my salary. l am paid little enough without I spend six pound on firewood.

PROCTOR: Sixty, plus six for fircwoodโ€”

PARRIS: The salary is sixty-six pound, Mr. Proctor! I am not some preaching farmer with a book under my arm; I am a graduate of Harvard College.

GILES: Aye, and well instructed in arithmetic!

PARRIS: Mr. Corey, you will look far for a man of my kind at sixty pound a year! I am riot used to this poverty; I left a thrifty business in the Barbados to serve the Lord. I do not fathom it, why am 1 persecuted here? I cannot offer one proposition but there be a howling riot of argument. I have often wondercd if the Dcvil bc in it somewhere; I cannot understand you peoplc othcovise.

PROCTOR: Mr. Parris, you are the first minister ever did demand the deed to this houseโ€” PARRIS: Man! Donโ€™t a minister deserve a house to live inโ€™?

PROCTOR: To live in, yes. But to ask ownership is like you shall own the meeting house itself; the last meeting I were at you spoke so long on deeds and mortgages I thought it were an auction.

PARRIS: I want a mark of confidence, is at l! I am your third preacher in seven years. I do not wish to be put out like the cat whenever some majority feels the whim. You people seem not to comprehend that a minister is the Lordโ€™s man in the parish; a minister is not to be so lightly crossed and contradictedโ€”

PUTNAM: Aye!

PARRIS: There is either obedicncc or the church will burn likc Hell is burning! PROCTOR: Can you speak one minute without we land in Hell again? I am sick o1โ€Hell!

PARRIS: It is not for you to say what is good for you to hear! PROCTOR: I may speak my heart, I think!

PARRIS, ia a ftiry.โ€™ What, are we Quakers? We are not Quakers heiโ€™e yet, Mr. Proctor. And you may tell that to your followers!

PROCTOR: My followcrs!

PARRISโ€”now heโ€™s out n ith if. There is a party in this church. 1 am not blind; there is a faction and a party.

PROCTOR: Against you?

PUTNA M : Against him and all authority! PROCTOR: Why, then 1 must find it and join it. There iโ€บ shock amoitg the others.

REBECCA: He does not mean that. PUTNAM: Hc confessed it now!

PROCTOR: I mean it solcmnly, Rebecca; I like not thc snicll of this *authority.โ€

RGBECCA: No, you cannot break charity with your minister. You are another kind, John. Clasp his hand, make your peace.

PROCTOR: I have a crop to sow and lumber to drag home. He goes angrily to the door and tui us to Corey ii!ith a smile. What say you, Giles, lctโ€™s find the party. He says thcrcโ€™s a party.

CilLES: lโ€™ve changed my opinion of this man, John. Mr. Parris, 1 beg your pardon. I never thought you had so much iron in you.

PARRIS, surprised. Why, thank you, Gilcs!

FILES: It suggests to the mind what the trouble be among us all these years. To all. Think on it. Wherefore is everybody suing everybody else? Think on it now, itโ€™s a deep thing, and dark as a pit. 1 have been six time in court this yearโ€”

PROCTOR, familiarly, vโ€ขith warmth, although he knows he is approaching the edge o] files tolerance vโ€™ith this.โ€™ Is it the Devilโ€™s fault that a man cannot say you good morning without you clap him for defamation? Youโ€™re old, Gilcs, and youโ€™rc not hcarinโ€™ so well as you did.

GILESโ€”he ca0Bot be crossed. John Proctor, I have only last month collected four pound damages for you publicly sayinโ€™ I burned the roof off your house, and Iโ€”

PROCTOR, laughing . I never said no such thing, but Iโ€™ve paid you for it, so I hope I can call you deaf without charge. Now come along, Giles, and help me drag my lumber home.

PUTNAM: A moment, Mr. Proctor. What lumber is that youโ€™re dragginโ€™, if I may ask you? PROCTOR: My lumber. From out my forest by the riverside.

PUTNAM: Why, we are surely gone wild this year. What anarchy is this? That tract is in my

bounds. itโ€™s in my bounds. Mr. Proctor.

PROCTOR: In your bounds! Indicatii7g Rebecca. I bought that tract from Goody Nurseโ€™s husband five months ago.

PUTNAM: He had no right to sell it. It stands clear in my grandfatherโ€™s will that all the land

between the river andโ€”

PROCTOR: Your grandfather had a habit of willing land that never belonged to him, if I may say it plain.

GILES: Thatโ€™s Godโ€™s truth; he nearly willed away my north pasture but lie knew Iโ€™d break his fingers before heโ€™d set his name to it. Letโ€™s get your lumber home, John. I feel a sudden will to work coming on.

PUTNAM: You load one oak of mine and youโ€™ll fight to drag it home!

GILES: Aye, and weโ€™ll win too, Putnamโ€”this fool and I. Come on! He turns to Proctor and starts out.

PUTNAM: Iโ€™ll have my men on you, Corey! Iโ€™ll clap a writ on you!

Enter Reverend John Hale ofBeโ€บโ€ขerly.

Mr. Hale is nearing forty, a tight-skinned, eager-eyed intellectual. This is a beloved errand for him; on being called here to ascertain witchcraft he felt the pride of the specialist whose unique knowledge has at last bccn publicly called for. Likc almost all men of learning, he spent a good deal of his time pondering the invisible world, especially since he had himselfโ€™ encountered a witch in his parish not long before. That woiiian, however, turned into a mere pest under his searching scrutiny, and the child she had allegedly been afflicting recovered her normal behavior after Hale had given her his kindness and a few days of rest in his own house. However, that experience never raised a doubt in his mind as to the reality of thc underworld or the existence of Luciferโ€™s many-faced lieutenants. A nd his belief is not to his discredit. Better minds than Haleโ€™s wereโ€”and still areโ€”convinced that there is a society of spirits beyond our kcn. One cannot help noting that one of his lincs has never yet raised a laugh in any audience that has seen this play; it is his assurance that โ€œWe cannot look to superstition in this. The Dcvil is prccise.โ€ Evidcntly we arc not quite ccrtain even now whether diabolisin is holy and not to be scoffed at. And it is no accident that we should be so bemused.

Like Reverend Hale and the others on this stage, we conceive the Devil as a necessary part of a respectable view of cosmology. Ours is a divided empire in which certain ideas and emotions and actions are ofโ€™ God, and their opposites are ofโ€™ Lucifโ€er. It is as impossible tor most men to conceive otโ€œ a morality without sin as of an earth without sky.โ€ Since 1692 a great but superficial change has wiped out Clodโ€™s beard and the Devilโ€™s horns, but the world is still gripped between two diametrically opposed absolutes. The concept of unity, in which positive and negative are attributes of the same force, in which good and cvil arc rclativc. evciโ€™-changing, and always joined to tlic same phenomenonโ€”such concept is still reserved to the physical sciences and to the few who have grasped the history of ideas. When it is recalled that until the Christian era the underworld was never regarded as a hostile area, that all gods wโ€™ere useful and essentially friendly to man despite occasional lapses; when we see the steady and methodical inculcation into humanity of the idea of manโ€™s worthlessnessโ€” until redeemedโ€”thc necessity of the Devil may become evident as a weapon. a weapon designcd and used time and time again in every age to whip men into a surrender to a

particular church or church-state.

Our difficulty in believing theโ€”for want of a better wordโ€”political inspiration of the Devil is due in great part to the fact that he is callcd up and damned not only by our social antagonists but by our own side, whatever ii may be. The Catholic Church, through its Inquisition, is famous for cultivating Lucifer as the arch-ficnd, but the Churchโ€™s cnciiiics rclicd no less upon thc Old Boy to keep thc human mind enthralled. Luther was himself accused ofโ€™ alliance with Hell, and he in turn accused his enemies. To complicatc matters furthcr, lie bclicvcd that hc had had contact with thc Devil and had argucd theology with him. I am not surprised at this, for at my own university a professor of historyโ€” a Lutheran, by the wayโ€”used to assemble his graduate students, draw the shades. and commune in the classroom with Erasmus. He was never, to my knowledge, officially scotTed at tor this, the reason bcing that the university officials, like most of us, are the children of a history which still sucks at thc Devilโ€™s teats. At this writing, only England has held back before the temptations otโ€œ contemporary diabolism. In thc countrics of the Communist idcology, all resistance of any import is linkcd to the totally malign capitalise succubi, and in America any man who is not reactionary in his views is open to thc charge of alliance with the Red hell. Political opposition. thcrcby, is givcn an inhumane overlay which then justifies the abrogation ofโ€ all normally applied customs ofโ€™ civilized intercourse. A political policy is equated with moral right, and opposition to it with diabolical malevolence. Once such an equation is elโ€™fectively made, society becomes a congerie of plots and counterplots, and the main role of govcmmcnt changcs from that of thc arbitcr to that of the scourgc of God.

The results of this process are no different now from what they ever were, except sometimes in the degree of cruelty inflicted, and not always even in that department. Normally the actions and deeds of a man were all that society fclt comfortable in judging. Thc secret intent o1 an action was left to the ministers, priests, and rabbis to deal with. When diabolism rises, however, actions are the least important manifests of the true nature of a man. The Devil. as Reverend Hale said. is a wily one, and, until an hour before lie Uh, cven God thought him beautiful in Heaven.

The analogy, however, seems to falter when one considers that, while there were no witches then, thcrc are Communists and capitalists now, and in each camp there is certain proofโ€œ that spies of each side are at work undermining the other. But this is a snobbish objection and not at all warranted by the facts. 1 have no doubt that people vโ€™ere communing with, and even worshiping, the Devil in Salem, and if the whole truth could be known in this casc, as it is in othcrs, we should discover a regular and conventionalized propitiation of the dark spirit. One certain evidence of this is the confession o1โ€ Tituba, the slave of Revercnd Parris, and another is the behavior of the children who were known to have indulged in sorceries with her.

There are accounts of similar Hatches in Europe, where the daughters of the towns would assemble at night and, soinetiircs with fetislics. sometimes with a sclected young man, give themsclvcs to lovc. with some bastardly results. The Church, sharp-eyed as it must be when gods long dead are brought to life, condemned these orgies as witchcraft and interpreted them rightly, as a resurgence of the Dionysiac forccs it had cruslicd long bcforc. Sex, sin, and thc Dcvil wcrc early linked, and so thcy continued to be in Salem, and are today. From all accounts there are no more puritanical mores in the world than those enforced by the Communists in Russia, where women โ€™s fashions, for instance, are as prudcnt and all-covering as any Amcrican Baptist would desire. The divorce laws lay a tiโ€™cincndous responsibility on the father for the care of his children. Even the laxity of divorce regulations in the early years of the revolution was undoubtedly a revulsion from the

nineteenth-century Victorian immobility of marriage and the consequent hypocrisy that developed mom it. If for no other reasons, a state so powerful, so jealous o1โ€œ the uniformity of its citizens, cannot long tolerate the atomization of the family. And yet, in American eyes at least, there remains the conviction that the Russian attitude toward womcn is lascivious. It is the Devil working again, just as he is working within the Slav who is shocked at the very idea of a womanโ€™s disrobing herself in a burlesque show. Our opposites are always robed in sexual sin, and it is from this unconscious conviction that demonology gains both its attractive sensuality and its capacity to iniiiriatc and frighten.

Coming into Salem now, Rcvcrcnd Hale conceives otโ€himself much as a young doctor on his first call. His painfully acquired armory ofโ€œ symptoms, watchwords, and diagnostic procedures is now to be put to usc at last. The road from Beverly is unusually busy this morning, and he has passed a hundred rumors that make him smile at the ignorance of the yeoinanry in this most precise science. He feels himself allied with the best minds of Europeโ€”kings, philosophers, scientists, and ecclesiasts of all churchcs. His goal is light, goodness and its preservation, and he knows the exaltation of the blessed whose intelligence, sharpened by minute examinations of enormous tracts, is finally called upon to face what may be a bloody fight with the Fiend himself.

He appears loaded down vโ€™iili hulf a doโ€“en heavy hooks.

HALE: Pray you, someone take these!

PARRIS, dclightcd: Mr. Halc! Oh! itโ€™s good to sec you again! Taking soinc books: My, theyโ€™re heavy! HALE, setting down his book . They must be; they are weighted with authority.

PARRIS, a /it//e scar ed.โ€™ Well, you do come prepared!

HALE: We shall need hard study if it comes to tracking down the Old Boy. 6โ€™oticing Rebecca . You cannot be Rebecca Nurse?

REBECCA: I am, siiโ€™. Do you know me?

HALE: Itโ€™s strange how I kncw you, but I suppose you look as such a good soul should. We havc all heard of your great charities in Beverly.

PARRIS: Do you know this gentlemanโ€˜? Mr. Thomas Putnam. And his good wife Ann. HALE: Putnani! I had not expected such distinguished company, sir.

PUTNAM, pleased. lt does not seem to help us today, Mr. Hale. We look to you to come to our house and save our child.

HALE: Your child ails tooโ€˜?

MRS. PUTNAM: Her soul, her soul seems frown away. She sleeps and yet she walks PUTNAM: Shc cannot eat.

HALE: Cannot cat! Thinks on it. Then, to Pt octor arid Giles Corey.โ€™ Do you men have afflicted children?

PARRIS: No, no, these arc farmers. John Proctorโ€”

GILES COREY: He donโ€™t believe in witches.

PROCTOR, to Hale. I never spoke on witches one way or the other. Will you come, Giles?

GI LES: Noโ€”no, John, I think not. I have some few queer questions of my own to a.sk this fellow. PROCTOR: Iโ€™ve heard you to be a sensible man, Mr. Hale. I hope youโ€™ll leave some o( it in Salem. Proctor goes. Hale stands embarrassed for an instant.

PARRIS, quickly.โ€™ Will you look at my daughtcr, sir? Leads Hale to the bed. Shc has tried to leap out

the window; we discovered her this morning on the highroad, waving her arms as though sheโ€™d fly. HALE, narrow ing his eyes: Tries to fly.

PUTNAM: She cannot bear to hear the Lordโ€™s name, Mr. Hale; thatโ€™s a sure sign of witchcraft afloat.

HALE, holding up his hand . No, no. Now let me instruct you. We cannot look to superstition in this. Thc Devil is precise: the marks of his presence are dcfinite as stonc, and I must tcll you all that 1 shall not proceed unless you are prepared to believe me if 1 should find no bruise of Hell upon her.

PARRIS: It is agrced, sir-it is agreedโ€”we will abide by your judgincnt.

HALE: Good then. He goe t,o the bed, looks do n ut Being. To Par ris . Now, sir, what were your first warning of this strangenessโ€™?

PARRIS: Why, sirโ€”1 discovered herโ€”indicating Abigailโ€”and my niece and ten or twelve of the other girls, dancing in the forest last night.

HALE, uipiโ€˜ised.โ€™ You permit dancingโ€™? PARRIS: No, no, it were secretโ€”

MRS. PUTNAM, tenable to wait.โ€˜ lMx. Parrisโ€™s slave has knowledge of conjurinโ€™, sir.

PARRIS, to Mrs. Piitnani. We cannot be sure of that, Goody Annโ€”

MRS. PUTNAM, frightened, ver y so fly.โ€™ 1 know it, sir. I sent my childโ€”she should learn from Tituba who murdered her sisters.

REBECCA, hot i ified.- Goody Ann! You sent a child to conjure up the deadโ€™?

M RS. PUTNA M: Set Clod blame me, not you, not you, Rebecca! Iโ€™11 not have you judging me any more! To Hale. 1s it a natural work to lose seven children before they live a day?

PARRIS: Sssh!

Rebecca, r itli great pain, turns her]ace an!ay. There is a pause.

HALE: Seven dead in childbirth.

MRS. PUTNAM, softly. Aye. Her โ€บ oice breaks,โ€™ she looks up at hint. Silence. Hale is impressed. Par i is looks to him. Her goes to his books, opens one, turns pages, then ieads. .411 โ€™art, avidlyโ€™.

PARRIS, hushed.โ€™ What book is thatโ€˜? MRS. PUTNAM: Whatโ€™s there, sirโ€™?

HALE, with a tasks love of intellectual pursuit. Here is all the invisible world, caught, defined, and calculated. In these books thc Devil stands stripped o1โ€™ all his brute disguises. Here arc all your familiar spiritsโ€”your incubi and succubi; your witches that go by land, by air, and by sea; your wizards of the night and of the day. Have no fear nowโ€”we shall find him out if he has come among us, and I mean to crush him utterly if he has shown his face! He stui t.: for the bed.

REBECCA: Will it hurt the child, sirโ€™?

HALE: I cannot tcll. If she is truly in thc Devilโ€™s grip we may have to rip and tear to get her free. REBECCA: I think Iโ€™ll go, then. I am too old for this. She rises.

PARRIS, sIriโ€บโ€ขing for conviction. Why, Rebecca, we may open up the boil of all our troubles today! REBECCA: Let us hope for that. I go to Clod for you. sir.

PARRIS, wโ€ขith ti epidationโ€”and resentment.โ€˜ I hope you do not mcan we go to Satan here! Slight pause.

REBECCA: I wish I knew. She ,goes out,โ€™ they feel resentful of her note of moral superioriqโ€ข.

PUTNAM, abruptly.โ€™ Come, Mr. Hale, letโ€™s get on. Sit you here.

GILES: Mr. Hale, 1 have always wanted to ask a learned manโ€”what signifies the readinโ€™ of strange booksโ€™?

HALE: What books?

Cโ€บ1LES: I cannot tell; she hides thein. HALE: Who does this?

GILES: Martha, my wife. 1 have waked at night many a time and found her in a corneiโ€™. readinโ€™ of a book. Now what do you make of that?

HALE: Why, thatโ€™s not necessarilyโ€”

FILES : It discomfits me! Last nightโ€”mark thisโ€”I tried and tried and could not say my prayers. And then she close her book and walks out otโ€™the house, and suddenlyโ€”mark thisโ€”I could pray again!

Old Giles must be spoken for, if only because his fate was to be so remarkable and so different from that of all the others. He was in his early eighties at this time, and was the most comical hero in the history. No man has cvcr bccn blamed for so much. If a cow was missed, thc first thought was to look for her around Coreyโ€™s house; a fire blazing up at night brought suspicion otโ€™ arson to his door. He didnโ€™t give a hoot for public opinion, and only in his last year.sโ€”after he had married Marthaโ€”did he bother much with the church. That she stopped his prayer is very probable, but he foigot to say that heโ€™d only recently learned any prayers and it didnโ€™t take much to wake him stumble over them. He was a crank and a nuisance, but withal a deeply innocent and brave man. In court, once, lie was asked if it were true that he had been frightened by the strange behavior of a hog and had then said lie knew it to be thc Dcvil in an animalโ€™s shape. โ€œWhat friglitcd you?โ€ he was askcd. Hc forgot everything but the word โ€œfrighted,โ€ and instantly replied, โ€œI do not know that 1 ever spoke that word in my life.โ€

HALE: Ah! Thc stoppage of prayerโ€”that is strange. Iโ€™ll speak further on that with you.

GILES: Iโ€™m not sayinโ€™ sheโ€™s touched the Dcvil, now, but Iโ€™d admire to know what books she reads and why she hides them. Sheโ€™ll not answci we, yโ€™ sec.

HALE: Aye, weโ€™ll discuss it. To all. Now mark me, if the Devil is in her you will witness some frightful wonders in this room, so please to keep your wits about you. Mr. Putnam, stand close in case she flies. Now, Betty, dear, will you sit up? Putnam comes iii closer, readyโ€”handed. Hale sits fletp up, but she hangs limp in his hands. Hminm. He observes her carefully. The others v atch bFeathles.โ€บlยฟโ€ข. Can you hear me? 1 am John Hale, minister of Beverly. I have come to help you, dear. Do you remember my two little girls in Beverlyt 5/7e does not stir in his hands.

PARRIS, ink ight. How can it be the Devilโ€™? Why would he choose my house to strikeโ€™? We have all manner of licentious people in the village!

HALE: What victory would the Devil have to win a soul ali eady bad? It is the best the Devil wants, and who is better than the minister?

GILES: Thatโ€™s deep, Mr. Parris, deep, deep!

PARRIS, oitรฑ resolution none. Betty! Answer Mr. Hale! Betty!

HOLE: Does someone afflict you, childโ€™? It need not be a woman, mind you, or a man. Perhaps some bird invisible to others comes to youโ€”perhaps a pig, a mouse, or any beast at all. 1s there some figure bids you fly? The child rent ains limp in his hands. In silence he lays her back on the pillow!. Nowโ€™, holding out hi.s hands toward her, he intones.โ€™ In nomine Domini Sabaoth sui filiique ite ad infernos. She does ioi stir. He turns to Abigail, his eyes nai iโ€™owing. Abigail, what sort of dancing were you doing with her in the forest?

ABIGAIL: Why ommon dancing is all.

PARRIS: I think I otight to say that Iโ€”I saw a kettle in the grass where thcy were dancing. ABIGAIL: That were only soup.

HALE: What sort of soup were in this kettle. Abigail? ABIGAIL: Why, it were beansโ€”and lcntils, I think. andโ€”

HALE : Mr. Parris, you did not noticc, did you, any living thing in the kcttle? A mouse, perhaps, a spider, a Frogโ€”?

PARR1S,fenrfo// Iโ€”do believe there were some movementโ€”in the soup. ABIGAIL: That jumped in, we never put it in!

HALE, quickly. What jumped in? ABIGAIL: Why, a very little frog juiTipcdโ€” PARRIS: A frog, Abby!

HALE, gi upping Abigciil . Abigail. it may be your cousin is dying. Did you call the Devil last night? ABIGAIL: I never called him! Tituba, Tituba โ€ฆ

PARRIS, blanched. She called the Devil? HALE: I should like to spcak with Tituba.

PARRIS: Goody Ann, will you bring her up? Mr s. Putnam exits.

HALL: How did she call him?

ABIGAIL: I know notโ€”she spoke Barbados.

IJALE: Did you feel any strangeness when she called himโ€˜? A sudden cold wind, perhapsโ€˜? A trembling below the ground?

ADIGAIL: I didnโ€™t see no Devil! Shaking Betl). Betty, wake up. Betty! Betty!

HALE: You cannot evade me, Abigail. Did your cousin drink any of the brew in that kettleโ€™? ABIGAIL: She never drank it!

HALE: Did you drink it?

ABIGAIL: No, sir!

HALE: Did Tituba ask you to drink it? ABIGAIL: Shc tried, but I refused.

HALE: Why are you concealing? Have you sold yoursellโ€™to Lucifer? ABIGAIL: I never sold myself! Iโ€™m a good girl! Iโ€™m a proper girl!

Mrs. Putnam enters with Tituba, mid instantly Abigail points at Tituba.

ABIGAIL: She made me do it! She made Bctty do it! TITUBA. shocked and anti y.โ€™ Abby!

A BlCiAlL: She makes we drink blood! PARRIS: Blood!!

MRS. PUTNA M: My babyโ€™s blood?

TITUBA: No. no, chicken blood. I give she chicken blood! IJALE: Woman, have you enlisted these children for the Devilโ€™? TITUBA: No, no, sir, I donโ€™t truck with no Devil!

HALE: Why can she not wakeโ€™? Are you silencing this childโ€˜โ€™ TITUBA: I love inc Betty!

HALE: You have sent your spirit out upon this child, have you notโ€™? Are you gathering souls for the Devil?

ABIGAIL: She sends heiโ€™ spirit on me in church; she makcs me laugh at prayer! PARRIS: She have often laughed at prayer!

ABIGAIL: She comes to me every night to go and drink blood! TITUBA: You beg me to conjure! She beg me make charmโ€”

ABIGAIL : Donโ€™t lie! To Hale. She comes to me while I sleep; sheโ€™s always making me dream corruptions!

TITUBA: Why you say that, Abby?

ABIGAIL: Sometimes I wake and find myself standing in the open doorway and not a stitch on my body! I always hear her laughing in my sleep. I hear her singing her Barbados songs and tempting mc withโ€”

TITUBA: Mister Reverend, I neverโ€”

HALE, re.solved noiiโ€ข. Tituba, I want you to wake this child. TITUBA: 1 have no power on this child, sir.

HALE: You most certainly do, and you will free her from it now! When did you compact with thc

Devil?

TITUBA: I donโ€t compact with no Dcvil!

PARRIS: You will confess yourselfโ€™ or I will take you out and whip you to your death, Tituba! PUTNAM: This woman must be hanged! She must be taken and hanged!

TITUBA, ten ified, Jโ€™alls to her knees. No, no, donโ€™t hang Tituba! I tell him I donโ€™t dcsire to work

for him, sir.

PARRIS: The Devil?

HALE: Then you saw him! Tituba iโ€บโ€ขeeps. Now Tituba, I know that when we bind ourselves to Hell it is very hard to break with it. We are going to help you tear yoursclf freeโ€”

TITUBA. fri,qlitened by the coming pi ocess.โ€™ Mister Reverend. I do belicve somebody else be witch in these children.

HALE: Whoโ€™?

TITUBA: 1 donโ€™t know, sir, but thc Devil got him nuiiicrous witches.

HALE: Does he! It is a clue. Tituba, look into my eyes. Come, look into me. She rai es her eye to his jโ€™earfiflly. You would be a good Christian woman, would you not, Tituba?

TITUBA: Aye, sir, a good Christian woman. HOLE: And you love these little childrenโ€™?

TITUBA: Oh. yes. sir. I donโ€™t desire to hurt little children. I IALE: And you love God, Titubaโ€™?

TITUBA: I love God with all my beinโ€™. HALE: Now, in Godโ€™s holy nameโ€”

TITUBA: Bless Him. Bless Him. She is i ocking on her knees, sobbing in terror.

HALE: And to His gloryโ€”

TITUBA: Eternal glory. Bless Himโ€”bless Ciod

HALE: Open yourself, Tituba pen yourself and let Clodโ€™s holy light shine on you. TITUBA: Oh. bless the Lord.

HALE: When the Devil comes to you does he ever comeโ€”with another person? ,She sttire.i tip into

his face. Perhaps another person in the villageโ€™? Someone you know. PARRIS: Who came with himโ€™?

PUTNAM : Sarah Goodโ€™? Did you ever see Sarah Good with himโ€™? Or Osburnโ€™? PARRIS: Was it man or woman came with him?

TITUBA: Man or woman. Wasโ€”was woman.

PARRIS: What womanโ€˜? A woman, you said. What woman? TITUBA: It was black dark, and Iโ€”

PARRIS: You could scc him, why could you not sec her?

TITUBA: Well, they was always talking; they was always runninโ€™ round and carryinโ€™ onโ€” PARRIS: You mean out of Salcm? Salem witches?

TITUBA: I believe so. yes. sir.

Now Hale tubes her liand. She is stuprised.

HALE: Tituba. You must have no fear to tell us who they are, do you understand? We will protect you. The Devil can never overcome a minister. You know that, do you notโ€˜?

TITUBA-She kisse.s Hale โ€˜s hand.โ€™ Aye, sir, oh, I do.

HALE: You have confessed yourself to witchcraft, and that speaks a wish to come to Heavenโ€™s side. And we will bless you, Tituba.

TITUBA, deeply i elicโ€ขโ€บโ€ขed. Oh, God bless you, Mr. Hale!

HALE, with rising exaltation: You are Godโ€™s instrument put in our hands to discover the Devilโ€™s agents among us. You are selected, Tituba, you are chosen to help us cleanse our village. So speak utterly, Tituba, turn your back on him and face Godโ€”face God, Tituba, and God will protect you.

TITUBA,Joioing vโ€™itli him.โ€™ Oh, God, protect Tituba!

HALE, kindly. Who came to you with the Devil? Two? Three? Four? How many?

Tituba pants and begins rocking back and Jโ€™orth again, staring ahead.

TITUBA: There was four. There was four.

PARRIS, pre.s.sing in on her.โ€™ Who? Who? Their names, their names!

TITUBA, suddenly btirsting otit. Oh, how many times he bid me kill you, Miโ€™. Parris! PARRIS: Kill me!

TITUBA, ifl a furyโ€ข.โ€™ He say Mr. PaiTis must be kill! Mr. Parris no goodly man, Mr. Parris mean man

and no gentle man, and hc bid me risc out of my bed and cut your throat! The)โ€ข gasp. But I tell him โ€œNo! 1 donโ€™t hate that man. I donโ€™t want kill that man.โ€ But he say, โ€œYou work for me, Tituba, and 1 make you free! 1 give you pretty dress to wear, and put you way high up in the air, and you gone fly back to Barbados!โ€ And I say, โ€œYou lie, Devil, you lie!โ€ And then he come one stormy night to me, and lie say, โ€œLook! I have rโ€ขliite people belong to mc.โ€ And I lookโ€”and there was Goody Good.

PARRIS: Sarah Ciood!

TITUBA, rocking and v eepin,g.โ€™ Aye, sir, and Goody Osburn.

MRS. PUTNAM: I knew it! Goody Osburn were midwife to me three times. I begged you, Thomas, did 1 notโ€™? I begged him not to call Osburn because I feared her. My babies always shriveled in her hands!

HALE: Take courage, you must give us all their names. How can you bear to see this child suffering? Look at her, Tituba. He is indicating Beth! on the bed. Look at her God-giVen innocence: her soul is so tender; we must protect her. Tituba; the Devil is out and preying on her like a beast upon the flesh of the pure lamb. God will bless you for your help.

Abiguil rises, .staring as though inspired, and criers out.

ABIGAIL: I want to open myself! Theโ€บ tDr/7 fp her, startled. She is enraptured, a though in a pearly /ig/it. I want the light of God, 1 want the sweet love of Jesus! I danced for the Devil; I saw him; I wrote in his book; I go back to Jesus; I kiss his hand. I saw Sarah Good with the Devil! I saw Goody Osburn with the Devil! I saw Bridget Dishop with the Devil!

As she is speaking, Betty is rising from the bed, a feโ€บโ€ขer in her pees, arid picks up the chaiit. BETTY, staring top.โ€™ 1 saw George Jacobs with the Devil! 1 saw Goody Ilowe with the Devil! PARRIS: Shc spcaks! He rushed to embi ace Bethโ€ข. She speaks!

HALE: Glory to God! lt is broken, they arc free!

BETTY, calling out hysterically and with gi eat relief. I saw Martha Bellows with the Devil! ABIGAIL: I saw Goody Sibber with the Devil! It is rising to a great glee.

PUTNAM: The marshal, Iโ€™ll call the marshal! Parris is shouting a prayer ofthanksgivmg. BETTY: 1 saw Alice Barrow with the Devil! The cm tain begins to fall.

HALE, a.s Ptitnarit goe.โ€บโ€™ out,โ€™ Let the marshal bring irons! A BICAIL: I saw Coody Hawkins with the Devil!

BETTY: 1 saw Goody 8ibber with the Devil!

ABIGAIL: I saw Goody Booth with the Devil!

On their ecstatic cries

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