Fear/Mass Hysteria

Hysteria is often devalued as a temper-tantrum but the medical term refers to a serious functional disturbance of the entire nervous system, often activated by severe stress or conflicting impulses. Mary Warren describes the classic onset of symptoms that mark her first hysterical episode in court: ‘a misty coldness’ (Act 2), crawling flesh, a choking sensation, dissociation, ‘a screaming voice’ (Act 2) and then the realisation that the voice was her own. Unlike Mary, who can’t even pretend to faint on order, Abigail calculates the most effective moment to stage her hysterical visions of persecution. She manages to hold power over the community and as Elizabeth observes ‘where she [Abigail] walks the crowd will part for her like the sea for Israel’ (Act 2) – the sudden power that the girls have gained from their antics are surely motivation enough for them to continue the ordeal for as long as the township believe them. Mary Warren confirms the notion that the girls are enjoying their newfound power when she speaks of the ‘weighty work’ (Act 2) that the girls do in court as they claim to be hunting the ‘Devil [that is] loose in Salem’ (Act 2). Her impression that ‘four judges and the King’s deputy sat to dinner with us [the girls] but an hour ago’ (Act 2) instils that she feels she has the right to be spoken to civilly from now on by the Proctors, her employers.

Strategically, Abby and the other girls use this power to their advantage, ‘scream[ing] and fall[ing] to the floor’ (Act 2) when the accused are brought before them. In the same way, Abby and the others point with fear into the rafters of the courthouse during the final court scene, screaming with fright in the belief that Mary Warren has conjured herself as a small yellow bird that Abby wails ‘want[s] to tear my [her] face’ (Act 3). Naturally, the use of spectral evidence within the courtroom (evidence that the accused spirit or spectre appeared to the victim and hurt or threatened them, despite the actual accused person being elsewhere and accounted for) condemns Mary Warren in this instance and others are likewise accused by the same means. It is madness that George Jacobs is condemned for attacking the young Ruth Putnam and Martha Corey is questioned why she ‘hurt these children’ (Act 3) without even being in the same room when the victims were afflicted, and in real life the use of spectral evidence was dismissed when officials cited the ridiculous nature of the Salem trials as evidence of the absurdity.

In the same way, the town of Dungatar become madly enthralled with the dressmaker Tilly after it becomes evident at Gertrude and William’s wedding that she is ‘an absolute wizard with fabric and scissors’ (Part 2) and the right creation for the bride-to-be was magnificent enough to make her feel ‘safe’ (Part 2) and secure that her groom would not stray from her. Tilly’s bespoke creations become much sought after as women begin to see the power that the seductive gowns designed specifically for them are able to do; making them feel confident whilst also bewitching the men. Elsbeth and Gertrude’s appearance wearing ridiculously unsuitable dresses ‘huge and domed in yards and yards of taffeta’ (Part 2) coincides with Gertrude announcing that she be hereon known as Trudy, in a chameleon like shift from the mousy daughter of a store owner to fashion extraordinaire.

The women’s obsession with the ‘exquisite’ (Part 2) new gowns that they believe will ‘set[s] women back ten years’ (Part 2) grows into a mania to acquire the same exact look and in some situations, the same lifestyle as the super models in Tilly’s fashion magazines – she [Nancy] ‘held the January edition of Vogue up in front of her and pointed to a model in an elegant tapered trouser suit in bright swirling colours. “See her? That’s what I want.”‘ In this instance, the impressionable Nancy Pickett, who is in a secret lesbian relationship with Ruth Dimm, associates fashion with her desire for women.

The repercussions of Tilly’s creations filter through and become a mad competition between the women as they exclaim their sole reason for purchasing such extravagant gowns to be that they ‘have to look better than everyone else’ (Part 2) and whilst the Pratts’ haberdashery counter expanded with new materials to cater for a more couture crowd, so did the citizens’ rivalry of one another.

This intense hysteria culminates in the final part of the novel; when tensions reach an all-time high as the performance evening for the Eisteddfod play rapidly approaches. The cast go from ‘progressing slowly’ (Part 4) through the rehearsals to ‘looked[ing] increasingly stressed and tired’ and finding little joy in the practice that has become a laborious task, often causing ‘someone… any other lousy actor here… [to have] a bit of a bawl’ (Part 4) and the fractious crew bicker constantly. The deterioration of Trudy throughout the rehearsals seems fitting but nonetheless is a jarring incident to occur to someone so young and over something as trivial as a county play; but connections can be drawn between the ‘screeching and pounding’ (Part 4) Trudy who claims that the glory is ‘MINE, MINE’ (Part 4) and the heinous Lady Macbeth, the character Trudy was originally intended to portray in the play.

Likewise, the intense hysteria that plagues the people of Salem is given way over reason, and any reliable cross-examination that consistently casts doubt on the accusers is dismissed in favour of rooting out the devil and cleansing the village. The deposition signed by many that the women (Martha Corey, Rebecca Nurse and Elizabeth Proctor) are women of good character is not only unheeded by Danforth but he issues warrants for each of the signatures, dismissing the argument that ‘so many of the women have lived with such upright reputations’ (Act 3) in favour of accumulating more suspects. Likewise, when Proctor casts his good name aside and admits to adultery with Abigail, Elizabeth lies to protect his reputation and instead of seeing the logic in this ‘natural lie’ (Act 3), Danforth becomes swept up in the hysteria and believes Proctor and his wife to be ‘combined with Anti-Christ’ (Act 4).

The village’s prodigious fear of the devil and the ‘black allegiance’ (Act 4) that they so readily believed could overrun them is acute. Although Hale’s visitation to the town eases concerns momentarily as he refers to the Devil being ‘stripped of all his brute disguises’ (Act 1) by his skill set in detecting those afflicted, his sensibility is soon cast aside for the more frenzied ‘thundering wrath’ (Act 2) that Hale warns has been drawn down from heaven on the village; Hale becomes irrelevant and becomes akin to the livestock that wander the roads abandoned, sporting a ‘mad look’ (Act 4), as he makes his way from one accused to the next seeking a confession that will save their lives. The hysteria has gripped the town entirely and Hale notes that there are ‘orphans wandering from house to house, abandoned cattle bellow on the highroads, the stink of rotting crops hangs everywhere…’ (Act 4); Salem is in disarray and the last remaining few that possess logic and sense are set to be executed that very morning.

Similarly, Dungatar’s suspicious notions about Tilly’s return to their quaint town are completely unfounded but nevertheless, cause havoc. Their constant gossiping and snide comments ostracize Tilly and by proxy, her mother Molly, as the townspeople venomously believe that ‘she’s [Tilly’s] up to no good that one, worse than her mother’ (Part 2) and that she ‘can never make up for it’ (Part 1) when referring to the accidental death of Stewart Pettyman. The women are in hysterics that the ‘daughter of Mad Molly is back – the murderess!’ (Part 3) and quake at the sight of Tilly when she and her mother venture down to town for supplies – ‘The nerve of that girl… not natural…’ (Part 1). Despite Teddy teasing Tilly that ‘I’m [he’s] the one that should be frightened of you [her]’ (Part 1), Tilly’s notion that bad luck follows her is cemented as the residents of Dungatar begin dying and Tilly fears their wrath more than ever when Teddy passes and irrespective of Farrat’s attempts to re direct the blame, Tilly is in their sights – ‘Tilly feared football defeat would send the people to her, that they would spill wet and dripping from the gateway of the oval to stream up The Hill with clenched fists for revenge blood.’ (Part 4)

Fear and Mass Hysteria Quotes

Edward always remembered the look on Evan’s face at that moment… when he realised fully what it all meant, what it had come to. (Edward McSwiney reflects on when he told the town how Stewart Pettyman had died) Part 3

‘Abby, we’ve got to tell, Witchery’s a hangin’ error, a hangin’ like they done in Boston two year ago! We must tell the truth, Abby! You’ll only be whipped for dancin’ and the other things!’ (Mary Warren is frightened about keeping the truth from the courts) Act 1

‘Nonsense! Mister, I have myself examined Tituba, Sarah Good and numerous others that have confessed to dealing with the Devil. They have confessed it!’
‘And why not, if they must hang for denying it? There are them that will swear to anything before they’ll hang; have you ever thought of that?’ (Hale and Proctor arguing about the accused) Act 2

Judgement and Justice

In a small rural town in Outback Australia in the 1950s, residents will do almost anything to protect their reputations. In addition, people’s reputations follow them around for decades and even remain long after those with them have left the town.

Tilly’s reputation as a murderess resonates in the small-minded residents of Dungatar, and even her hiatus to Europe where she trained under the prestigious fashion magnates of Paris was not enough to erase the memory of her association with Stewart Pettyman’s death. The judgement upon Tilly is so acute that William uses it as leverage to marry Gertrude when his mother sees through the young girls ploy to trick him into marriage using sex. Knowing that Gertrude would be his mother’s preference, he threatens Elsbeth that ‘it’s either her [Gertrude] or Tilly Dunnage’ (Part 2) to which she resigns.

This notion doesn’t escape Molly, who reminds her daughter that ‘everybody knows everything about everyone’ (Part 1) but the townsfolk have learnt not to gossip about one another, lest ‘some [one] else’ll tell of them’ (Part 1). This perpetual tit-for-tat speaks of childishness in the dynamic characters of Dungatar who lack the intelligence to understand the social politics of living in a small town. It is not only the outcasts of the town that are victims of the ‘open slather’ (Part 1) but anyone who seems to have stepped out of line. The morning after the dance, the local ladies natter between themselves excitedly with ‘you’ll never guess what she wore… or almost wore’ (Part 2) and don’t hesitate in openly condemning Tilly and assuming ‘she’s up to no good again, that one’ (Part 2) in an effort to keep the hatred and distrust for Tilly alive. It seems that Gertrude’s paranoia about ‘my [her] reputation’ (Part 2) is well founded when they move on from Tilly and begin to attack Trudy – ‘and guess who Gertrude was with, all night’ (Part 2). Ham’s skills in storytelling give us the sense that the vicious rumours are spreading like wildfire through the town when a few pages later Irma and Lois stipulate that although they are ‘not gossipin’ or anythink…’ (Part 2), they retell the story of Tilly’s scandalous frock and Gertrude’s relationship status with extra assumption.

When Gertrude and William finally appear as a couple together, the sniggers of the townspeople who has already been privy to the rumour that a hasty marriage was on horizon after the two lovebirds ‘spent the whole night wif each other…’ (Part 2) is reason enough for them to make remarks to each other on the snide.

In the same way, judging yourself and judging one another is ubiquitous in Miller’s play and the narrative pivots on how one person might judge another. Naturally, in the strict Puritan community, the looming judgment from God sees the citizens of Salem living under constant threat of condemnation. Despite Hale’s keenness to apply theological arguments and collect confessions peaceably, he soon comes to realise that the Salem courtroom is not interested in dispensing justice but instead, prides itself on imposing it. In this society, the Bible is the basis for the law and as Danforth subscribes in his soliloquy to the girls, ‘the law, based upon the Bible, and the Bible, writ by Almighty God, forbid the practice of witchcraft, and describe death as the penalty thereof. By likewise, children, the law and the Bible damn all bearers of false witness’ (Act 3). From this, we can see that it is his single motive that he should hunt down all those that are afflicted and not ‘flounder’ (Act 4) in his quest for them. The justice that the supreme government of the province intends for the citizens of Salem is a ‘hot fire [here]…[that] melts down all concealment’ (Act 3) and his solution to the situation in Act 4 is to place pressure on the weakest person and break a confession from them, tells us that he (representative of the judicial system) has lost his way and in an effort to protect himself, will damn the prisoners regardless – ‘which of these in your [Parris] opinion may be brought to God? I will myself strive with them till dawn’ (Act 4).

In Dungatar, Ham reminds us that the citizens value others’ opinions of them in preference to most other things; and their attempts to improve their standing amongst the community is not only reflected on a larger scale by the women who have been ‘renovated’ (Part 2) by Tilly’s creations, but also in the minute changes the citizens conduct in order to elevate themselves to a higher social class. Whilst the ‘couturiered ladies of Dungatar… enter[ed] the halls at three minute intervals, poised, their noses aimed at the lights… slowly down the centre if the hall through the gaping guests from Winyerp’ (Part 2) symbolises the superficiality of their aspirations, the sudden notion to use euphemisms such as the porch, ‘now being called the back patio’ (Part 3), speaks of a deeper need to be seen as something they are not by others around them. But it seems there’s a lesson for those that meddle and judge others – when Beula Harridene sneaks up to The Hill and overhears Tilly and Farrat drunkenly singing about their woes she is hit by a radiogram that Tilly throws out in her stupor and the wound festers in her face, becoming a ‘raw flesh cavity’ (Part 4) that oozes, a fitting symbol indicative of what happens to those that judge others unfairly.

Judging one another, and oneself, is seen as equally as burdensome. Proctor’s aversion to Elizabeth’s suspicion is infuriating and although in his eyes, he has earned such suspicion, he believes he has tolerated it for too long and no exception has been made for his behaviour in the last seven months where he has ‘gone tiptoe in this house… since she [Abby] is gone’ (Act 2). Elizabeth acknowledges the truth that John judges himself in his actions more then any other and this can be seen in the little respect he has for himself. When Francis Nurse refuses to believe John’s confession of having an affair with Abby, Proctor ‘wish[es] you [Francis] had some evil in you [him] that you [he] might know me [him]’ (Act 3) for the man that he truly is and has kept secret for seven months gone. Similarly, in his final act of redemption Proctor himself is stunned by the ability he has to stand strong under scrutiny and mount the scaffold as a truthful man, in possession of his good name –
Hale: ‘Man, you will hang! You cannot!’
Proctor: ‘I can. And there’s your first marvel that I can. You have made your magic now; for now I do think I see some shred of goodness in John Proctor. Not enough to weave a banner with, but white enough to keep it from such dogs.’ Act 4

Much like Proctor, Tilly’s final appearance is met with admiration as she rises out of the mire of rumour and segregation and seeks revenge in a manner mirroring the early dramatical climax of ‘Deas Ex Machina’; whereas a complicated and seemingly hopeless plot is resolved neatly as the protagonist escapes the scene unscathed. In the case of The Dressmaker, the train that stops briefly at the Dungatar station provides the rapid getaway and Tilly’s future, although uncertain, is victorious over the villains of her hometown.

Judgement and Justice Quotes

William was slumped in a battered deckchair on what was now called ‘the back patio’, formerly the porch. Part 3

‘You can’t keep anything secret here,’ said the old woman [Molly]. ‘Everybody knows everything about everyone but no one ever tittle-tattles because then some else’ll tell of them. But you don’t matter – it’s open slather on outcasts.’ Part 2

‘The others were happy to let you die. I saved you. It’s me they’ll try to kill now.’ (Tilly to Molly) Part 1

‘He spoke of love and hate and the power of both and he reminded them how much they loved Teddy McSwiney. He said that Teddy McSwiney was, by the natural order of the town, an outcast who lived by the tip.’ Part 3

‘They drove up The Hill to throw rocks onto the cottage roof in the middle of the night, driving around and around, revving, calling ‘Murderers! Witches!’ Part 3

‘My name is good in the village! I will not have it said my name is soiled! Goody Proctor is a gossiping liar!’ (Abby defending herself to Parris) Act 1

‘Spare me! You forget nothin’ and forgive nothin’. Learn charity, woman. I have gone tiptoe in this house all seven month since she is gone. I have not moved from there to there without I think to please you, and still an everlasting funeral marches round your heart. I cannot speak but I am doubted, every moment judged for lies, as though I come into court when I come into this house!’ (Proctor to Elizabeth) Act 2

‘I see now your spirit twists around the single error of my life, and I will never tear it free!’ (Proctor to Elizabeth) Act 2

‘Now believe me, Proctor, how heavy be the law, all its tonnage I do carry on my back tonight.’ (Cheever is made to arrest many people for questioning, including Elizabeth) Act 2

‘I have confessed myself! Is there not good penitence but it be made public? God does not need my name nailed upon the church! God sees my name; God knows how black my sins are!’ (Proctor when the court decided his false confession should be hung publicly) Act 4

Belonging and Diversity

It is a natural human instinct shared by many other living creatures, to belong to a group, herd or tribe of some kind. There is safety in numbers; but belonging to a group has its obligations as well as benefits and depending on the group dynamics, sometimes the drawbacks of belonging to a group outweigh the advantages. The play is set in the tight Christian community network bound by strict moral, legal and religious beliefs and practices in a recently established pioneer settlement. People conform more or less to the agreed rules – they want to feel the security of belonging and they also fear the repercussions of straying from the Puritan way of life. There are however, all kinds of personal conflicts between individuals and families simmering beneath the surface that are easily stirred up when a threat to the community is perceived.

Miller himself noted that by virtue of being Puritan, a religion based on maintaining Christian goodness and unity of purpose, it is inevitable that the society must exclude and prohibit anything that appeared to undermine that cohesion. An example of this within the text is that of Sarah Osburn, the ‘drunk and half-witted’ (Act 2) citizen that is accused simply because she is different; likewise Sarah Good, an old beggar woman who was called into the court for questioning when Mary Warren believed that she had rendered her unwell when she had come begging at the door of the Proctors and she refused her charity. Notably, Mary made mention that she ‘say [said] to myself [herself], I [she] must not accuse this woman, for she sleep in ditches, and so very old and poor’ (Act 2), an admittance by proxy that Sarah Good was excluded in the community and therefore a convenient target. That she and Osburn were named by Tituba, signified that according to the hierarchy of Salem’s peer groups, these three (Tituba, Sarah Good and Sarah Osburn) are at the bottom. Tituba is the minority in Salem. Miller’s stage notes take heed of the ‘colour of her skin and consequent low standing’ (stage notes) which inevitably lower her in society’s eyes and when she is placed under scrutiny in the bedroom of the afflicted Betty, notably not in a courthouse where all other accusers are given their trial, she is threatened to be ‘whip[ped] to [your] death’ (Act 1) by the village minister Parris. By openly acknowledging the race distinction when she cries out that the devil boasted ‘I [he] have white people belong to me [him]’ (Act 1), she contributes to the larger debate within the Salem township – one must either belong to the rest of the community or be on the outer and therefore, in peril.

Proctor reticence to attend Church, although a bone of contention for Hale as he visits the accused to ascertain the ‘Christian character of this [the Proctors’] house’ (Act 2), sets him up as an outsider. His reluctance to attend court is remarked upon by Hale, as though his aversion speaks of a more sinister issue –
Proctor: ‘I had not reckoned with goin’ into court. But if I must, I will.’
Hale: ‘Do you falter here?’
Proctor: ‘I falter nothing…’ Act 2

The decade of the 1950s is often looked back on as the halcyon days of morality and the nuclear family, but Ham’s novel reveals what remains when the veneer is striped back and we see ordinary citizens for what they are. Although Ham avoids the subjects such as race, there is segregation from the community nonetheless. The McSwiney family were ‘by natural order of the town’ (Part 3) outcasts and despite the fact that Mae McSwiney ‘did what was expected of her from the people of Dungatar’ (Part 3) and her husband Edward ‘worked hard…fixed people’s pipes… trimmed their tree and delivered their waste to the tip’ (Part 3) they were and would always remain on the outer circle of society. It is assumed that their proximity to the tip, the presence of slow-witted Barney and their affiliation with the Dunnage women were the reasons for this but as is so often in small rural towns, sometimes there is no concrete reason and it is more a matter of demoting one group so as to elevate another. Despite this example it seems that diversity in Dungatar is hardly a reason to be considered an outsider; Nancy and Ruth’s taboo relationship doesn’t exclude them from society, and in the same way, Mr Almanac’s crippled body and pious manner does not secure him a position on the outer circle of society. It seems people of necessity, such as Ruth who runs the town post and telegraph office and Almanac who concocts remedies for those that fall ill, are kept on the periphery of the inner circle for convenience. In contrast to Tituba, from Miller’s play, those that are allowed to belong to the society serve some purpose and are therefore, tolerated. However, it is those who are considerably less deserving that incur the scathing judgement of the town – such as Molly who ‘wished for herself’ (Part 4) a ‘life of love and acceptance’ (Part 4) and failed to find that sense of belonging she so longed for.

The McSwiney family help bridge the gap between the lower and middle classes; Teddy is known for his congeniality to the broader townsfolk and is similarly kind and charismatic with Tilly and her mother. Despite Sergeant Farrat reminding the citizens at the funeral of Teddy that ‘if you [they] had included her [Tilly], Teddy would have always been with us [them]’ (Part 3), the message falls on deaf ears and the Dungatar residents failed to see what their prejudice and bigotry had done to the town’s ‘cheeky boy’ (Part 3). In the end, the McSwineys leave Dungatar in a line of ‘sad, rag dolls’ (Part 3), resigned that they will never belong. Ham works to highlight this separation with the formation of the ‘Progressive Minded Ladies of Dungatah’ (Part 2) by Elsbeth and Trudy, who begin organising a variety of town events including ‘functions… fund raisers, tea parties, croquet games, dances…’ (Part 2) and who later induct Ruth and Pru Dimm, Nancy and Lois Pickett, Beula Harridene, Irma Almanac and Marigold Pettyman. But instead of visiting The Hill to invite Molly and Tilly, the newly formed Dungatar Social Club, who had coincidentally ‘acquired an accent overnight – an enunciated Dungatar interpretation of queenly English’ (Part 3) insist she make them dresses to rival the others in their group. When this same social group plans to hold a play, being directly involved in the proceedings becomes essential to each of the residents and as they ‘queued on the tiny stage like extras from a Hollywood film’ (Part 4), the resident’s personalities meld together and readers begin to observe them as a collective enemy, neither one more forgivable than the other.

The fitting punishment for a the group who ostracized those around them was to suffer their fate together, and as they ‘walked in a pack’ (Part 4) back to their town and the fire had claimed everything, once more Ham writes about them in the collective as they ‘all started to cry… they groaned and rocked, bawled and howled… they were homeless and heartbroken… a motley bunch…’ (Part 4).

Despite the numerous couples and romantic dalliances in The Dressmaker, Ham promotes the idea of pure, true love with the classic couple, Tilly and Teddy. In juxtaposition to Lesley and Mona, and William and Gertrude, whose partnerships were a result of succumbing to the pressures of society, Tilly and Teddy share a deep and real love. As the novel sees William and Gertrude marry and merely exist in a loveless marriage with one another, Tilly and Teddy ‘made love over and over again and were made one person in their intentions’ (Part 3). The resignation that is shared by Lesley and Mona after the marry that they’ll ‘do the best we [they] can together’ (Part 3) is a suffocating prospect when we consider the endless possibilities of real love as Teddy and Tilly begin to plan a full life together.

Moreover, as much as Tilly tries to fool herself that she is not bothered by what others think of her, she is acutely concerned that ‘they’ll [the townsfolk] hate me [her] even more’ (Part 2) and is hounded by their hate of her, dreaming that the men of the town ‘stood shaking their fingers at her’ (Part 4) and that the residents will crawl up The Hill, armed with ‘firewood and flames, stakes and chains’ (Part 4) in a twisted amalgamation of a witch-hunt. Her fears bloom just as Teddy is buried and she fears the ‘football defeat’ (Part 3) will bring people to the house baying for her blood because she’d killed their star full forward.

After the loss of her mother, Tilly is no longer comforted by the promise Molly made to her that ‘it’s me and you; there is only you and you have only me’ (Part 3) – her isolation is confirmed when very few people attend Molly’s funeral and Tilly’s blames the rain.

Belonging and Diversity Quotes

Tilly stood alone in her brilliant magenta Lys Noir gown, then wrapped her shawl tight about her and reached for the handle. (after being spat at by Evan and called names by Beula at the social gathering) Part 2

T. Dunnage was printed lightly beneath T. McSwiney but it had been scribbled out.’ Part 2

… tragedy includes everyone… wasn’t everyone else in the town different, yet included? (at Teddy’s funeral) Part 3

‘Now, look you. All of you. We danced. And Tituba conjured Ruth Putnam’s dead sisters. And that is all.’ (Abby threatening the girls) Act 1

‘I think you best send Reverend Hale back as soon as he come. This will set us all to arguin’ again in the society, and we thought to have peace this year.’ (Rebecca Nurse is concerned that Hale’s appearance in the town will cause mischief) Act 1

‘Your soul alone is the issue here, Mister, and you will prove its whiteness or you cannot live in a Christian country.’ (Danforth to Proctor) Act 4

Truth and Lies

In Ham’s The Dressmaker, the truth has little value; instead the citizens are embroiled in malicious gossip and snide falsifications that serve only to elevate their selfish needs. By the time Tilly returns to her hometown, the manner in which young Stewart Pettyman died had far become the thing of legend. The fact that small Tilly was ‘cornered beside the library… just trying to save herself’ (Part 3) became irrelevant and all that was remembered was the grotesque image of the ‘boy… with his neck broken and his round podgy body at right angles to his head’ (Part 3) and as such, Tilly had been sent away from the town. Such is the insidious nature of the lies told, the fateful incident caused by a barbaric child attacking another became a by-product of Tilly’s curse. Similarly, Ham’s writing in the latter half of the novel strips back the façade and the once ‘couturiered ladies of Dungatar’ (Part 2) become ‘snobby old Elsbeth… puny Mona… putrid gossiping Lois, leathery old sticky-beak Ruth, venomous Beula’ (Part 3) as Tilly (and inadvertently, the reader) become aware of the true nature of these women. After their behaviour has been disclosed, Ham begins to morph the descriptions of these dynamic characters in an animalistic manner, likening them to lumbering livestock that mindlessly ‘traipse[ing]’ and ‘amble[d]’ (Part 4) wherever the crowd is going; failing to think for themselves until their behaviours and words are indistinguishable from the rest of the flock.

The animalistic association is also included as Ham courageously addresses the theme of sex within the novel. The characters of Dungatar are besotted with their carnal instincts – Mona’s ‘quiet, evening orgasm’ (Part 1), Trudy and William’s inability to remain chaste until a proper marriage is conducted and Evan Pettyman’s libidinous inclinations both toward his wife, whom he frequently drugs and rapes, or the countless women he either has affairs with or harasses, the citizens of Dungatar are presented as beasts unable to rise above their most base bodily needs. The revealing nature of Dungatar’s auspicious Councillor Pettyman whose inability to get an arousal suspiciously coincides with Tilly’s vengeful concoction foreshadows his demasculinasation both literally and figuratively as his wife later learns of his affair and not only exposes his filthy collection of pornography but also slices his ankle tendon which hobbles him like ‘tortured elephant’ (Part 4), like the beast he is.

Although the truth behind the heinous Evan Pettyman is exposed, it does little to assuage the hatred the citizens feel toward the Dunnage family and Sergeant Farrat’s honest eulogy at Molly’s funeral captures the desperate attempts she had gone to in order to avoid the ‘full glare of scrutiny and torment’ (Part 4). The ‘grey, crying sky’ (Part 4) during Molly’s burial cements to Tilly that she is alone; the end of her family line. In the end, Farrat is her last remaining friend and suggests that they ‘drink laced tea until we [they] feel some understanding’ (Part 4) in an effort to disguise their grief and avoid facing the truth.

In contrast, the truth can prove to a liberation to some; the moral idyll of the 50s era proved overwhelmingly stifling for some characters and hence, breaking away from societal expectations proved cathartic. Sergeant Farrat’s penchant for women’s clothing works in direct contrast to the reliable law enforcement model typical in small rural towns scattered across the Australian outback. Not only does he harbour the secret passion for haberdashery and artistic flair, his insight when it comes to those around him is flooring. Delivering the eulogy at both Teddy and Molly’s funerals, he berates the citizens for their piety and espouses forgiveness and an understanding that Tilly was not to blame for the death of Teddy, even if it means bending the truth when he assures them that he ‘instead [he] wrote the Teddy McSwiney had slipped and that it was his own terrible mistake’ (Part 3). In addition, his suspicions about the ‘new seamstress in town’ (Part 3) not being well travelled and not having ‘received any sophisticated training’ (Part 3) suggests that he is perhaps still tainted by the same judgemental affliction that the other residents have. However, Farrat’s sensitivity to the affects of his actions, such as when Tilly was sent away after the death of Stewart, awards him an element of retrospection that is acutely lacking in so many of the other characters. His duality within the novel is complete when he attends Molly’s funeral dressed in a ‘black knee-length wool-crepe frock with a draped neck… black stockings and sensible black pumps’ (Part 3) in an effort to both aggravate the deceased Molly whilst also paying homage to her unconventionality.

The seventeenth-century Puritan worldview saw the battle between God and the Devil for Christian souls as a titanic reality, made apparent as an ever-present spiritual conflict between good and evil. Danforth is a constant reminder throughout the text of the vast quest Puritans undertook in order to expose the lies within their community when he observes the witch-trials have unearthed a ‘precise time’ (Act 3) where the townsfolk are no longer ‘in the dusky afternoon when evil mixed itself with good and befuddled the world’ (Act 3); Salem has moved under the eye of the Puritan men that would see it cleansed.

In an effort to assuage humanity, Miller condones some of the lies told within the play, if they are for the betterment of others. This notion connects well with the historical context of when Miller wrote the play, when much like Salem, accusers were pressed to name others and the temptation to alleviate some of the focus by mentioning another name was great. Like the HUAC trials, citizens were placed in situations where lies were the only viable option and as Proctor notes, the truth is not as appealing when it is only a lie that will save someone from the rope. Ironically, the only lie Elizabeth has ever told condemned the man she was trying to protect. Her reputation as a woman that ‘cannot lie’ (Act 3) sees her and her husband arrested and Abby set free, in a monstrous display of the inefficacy of the justice system. Likewise, Proctor’s inclination to ‘sign myself [himself] to lies’ (Act 4) and sign his name to a document stating that he trafficked with the devil is done in an effort to save his neck. He, like Mary Warren in the earlier court scene, wrestles with inner conflict – a moral conundrum that sees their truths condemning them to hang but their lies saving them.

In contrast to this, holding onto the truth is seen through the character of Giles Corey, who was pressed to death in an effort to force him to name an informant. The ‘great stones’ (Act 4) that were placed upon his chest are metaphoric of the weight of ‘stand[ing] mute’ (Act 4) and lying in order to save others. In this way, Miller not only excuses lies but often celebrates them as a noble way to conduct oneself if the truth will be prove to be more damaging.

Furthermore, ‘pleading the belly’ is a term used to describe the practice of women, who were condemned to be executed, and informed their captors that they were pregnant in an attempt to stall the sentence. The claim that Goody Good requested a delay on her execution because she was pregnant foreshadows Elizabeth’s later claim that she is with child as well, and despite being examined and there being ‘no sign of it’ (Act 3), Danforth observes that it ‘too convenient to be credited’ (Act 3). Without solid proof, he informs Proctor that Elizabeth will be spared another year until she is delivered and audiences are left guessing whether this is a lie Elizabeth has devised to stall or if Proctor’s summation of her being unable to lie is correct and she is with child.

Truth and Lies Quotes

Ruth stood by her electric kettle steaming open a fat letter addressed to Tilly Dunnage. Part 1

Sergeant Farrat’s secret wardrobe hung in a locked cupboard next to the front door. Part 4

‘It’s all very hazy now, but you left I seem to remember, because your mother became unwell?’ (Marigold discusses her confusion with Tilly) Part 4

‘Some people don’t think they have to honour their marriage vows either,’ said Nancy.
‘At least I have a preference for men, some sick people in this town…’ (Lois and Nancy are arguing during rehearsals) Part 4

‘You are not wintry man. I know you, John… 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?’ (Abby pleads with Proctor) Act 1

‘Aye, sir. She [Mary Warren] swears now that she never saw Satan; nor any spirit, vague or clear, that Satan may have sent to hurt her. And she declares her friends are lying now.’ (Proctor to Danforth) Act 3

‘It does not escape me that this deposition may be devised to blind us… but if she speaks true, I bid you now drop your guile and confess your pretense, for a quick confession will go easier with you. Abigail Williams… is there any truth in this?’ (Danforth questions Abby one final time) Act 3

‘Let him [Proctor] give his lie. Quail not before God’s judgement in this, for it may well be that God damns a liar less that he that throws his life away for pride.’ (Hale to Elizabeth) Act 4

‘Because I lie and sign myself to lies! Because I am not worth the dust on the feet of them that hang!’ (Proctor as he is signing his false confession) Act 4