“The Crucible” by Kjersti Faret is licensed under CC BY-NC 4.0

The Crucible is a story about lies. At least on the surface, it is about lies, whereas when you dive deeper into the story, you’ll find more meanings behind their confusing dialect. Though this also takes us to a place where we need to consider about lying, we all lie, we lie all the time to other people about things that we do. But what is it like when we lie to ourselves?

“Proctor was a farmer in his mid thirties… he has a sharp and biting way with hypocrites.” (19).

John Proctor, the farmer and perhaps the reason that all of the trials happened, at least in the book. Proctor was a farmer in Massachusetts, known to be a fair tempered and physically powerful man. He also has a reputation for being stark; Proctor was the man in Salem that was respected, thought with his own vices.

“Abby, I may have thought you softly from time to time… We never touched Abby.” (22).

John tries, and he tries desperately. He knows the sins he has committed and knows himself a sinner despite his steel reputation in Salem. Yet when Abigail comes finding him, he himself denies his sins, denying himself the memory of her touch on his skin, and the nights of his untamed lust. He lies to himself, hypocritical actions that he has been known to be against, and his feelings towards hypocrites felt. Yet now, staring into his former lust, shattered memories of his past, he himself becomes the hypocrite that he spites.

“She thinks to dance with me on my wife’s grave! And she might have, for I thought of her softly.” (102).

When John finally thinks of himself to confess in court, he was desperate to stop Abigail’s lies and cries of spirits. Yet then it was too late to him, a fact that weighs him down knowing that his hypocritical sins have brought this on to them all. It is lies that makes a hypocrite, but lies that is to oneself.

“Shattered” by piPhotos is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

I remember I lied to myself once. And I lied to myself no more afterward.  It was a day I don’t like to remember, as I try to think of it less and less each day, yet sometimes it comes to me in my nights. My most important values have always been to keep promises, it has not changed since I was a child, and I have never thought to change it. Yet when I broke my first promise, I lied and lied, trying to deny the fact that I made the mistake, and I couldn’t own up to it.

Proctor lied, I lied, but the fact is that our lies weren’t to others. Not here. We stare into the shattered mirrors of our broken values and we spited ourselves for it.