Revision as Resistance in Twentieth-Century American Drama

M. Malburne-Wade

• Publisher: Palgrave Macmillan
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781137441614
• Topic: Media & Performing Arts
• Subtopic: Performing Arts

American dramas consciously rewrite the past as a means of determined criticism and intentional resistance. While modern criticism often sees the act of revision as derivative, Malburne-Wade uses Victor Turner's concept of the social drama and the concept of the liminal to argue for a more complicated view of revision.

C H A P T E R 1

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Confession and Crime, Confession as Crime: Williams’s Tituba’s Children and Miller’s The Crucible

This study begins with Arthur Miller’s and William Carlos Williams’s attempts to reconcile the xenophobic and distrustful hysteria that ran rampant in the United States, manifesting itself in the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC) and McCarthyism. Reflecting on the insidiousness of these proceedings later in his life, Arthur Miller questioned, “Why was there so little real opposition to this madness?” (“Again They Drink”). It is a question that could have easily been asked about the Salem Witch Trials as well. Intrinsic to Salem, the HUAC, and McCarthyism were deeply rooted suspicions, the act of confession, and a blatant disregard for American principles in the name of misguided nationalism. It is perhaps unsurprising that both Arthur Miller and William Carlos Williams turned to Salem as a foundation during the hysteria that surrounded the HUAC and McCarthyism. Both Miller’s The Crucible and Williams’s Tituba’s Children rely heavily on Salem, intentionally blurring the lines between historical accuracy and creative license, using each historical moment as fuel for criticism of the United States and as a demand for change. Historically (and dramatically), these moments and these plays all follow Turner’s schema for a breach and its aftermath; the dramas employ the liminal as a means of stitching together the past and the present. As such, these plays serve as excellent introductions to this study.

Defining the Social Dramas of the Historical Precedents

Salem Village

The Salem Witch Trials have become lore and legend in the United States, immortalized in everything from children’s textbooks to popular films. All told, 20 “witches” were executed in Salem in 1692, and Marion L. Starkey argues that the relatively small number of executions in Salem, when compared to the numbers of “witches” executed across Europe before and during this time frame, makes it resonant for modern readers, scholars, historians, and enthusiasts (Starkey 14). Because we can “know” the people involved in the trials, we can begin “grasping the local” as a means of “understanding the universal” (Starkey 14–15).

The Salem Witch Trials originally began with the odd behavior of several young women in Salem Village. Many in the group were alleged to be seeking the counsel of Reverend Samuel Parris’s slave, Tituba. Both Charles Upham and Marion Starkey, the leading Salem historians available to Williams and Miller at the time, suggest that Tituba was involved in what would have been perceived as the dark arts, but modern theorists and historians disagree vehemently with this idea, noting that these assumptions have been based more on racism and assumption than documented fact.¹ When one of the youngest participants, Reverend Parris’s own daughter, began to show signs of absentmindedness and trance-like behavior (sources allege that her behavior appears to have been legitimate at first), several local children began mimicking—and amplifying—the behaviors that were soon seen to be signs not only of “contagion,” but “the torments of the damned” (Starkey 40).² The combination of physical and spiritual corruption signified a dire threat for the faith-based community.

As the number of “afflicted” young women grew, so did the fear of witchcraft in Salem, and the breach—and subsequent crisis—officially began, pitting neighbor against neighbor. If the girls were damned, then such damnation must have been brought upon them due to the failings of the town. Given the pressures placed on Salem (and the emerging nation generally) to not only be successful, but to be successful as a group of “Christians not only called for but chosen,” this outbreak of witchcraft was not only disturbing, it was a sign of greater community-wide malady and failure (Bercovitch, The American Jeremiad 7). As Upham notes, “[t]he moral force” intrinsic to the religious motivations of Salem “supplied a mightier momentum [ . . . ] to the movement of the people, acting in a mass and as a unit, than can anywhere else be found” (464–465; vol. 1). The intense pressure of creating a sacred, chosen community carried with it the possibility (if not probability) of breakdown and hysteria.

This social drama—and this breach in particular—was not, thus, unprecedented or unpredictable in Salem. A deep fascination with sin, confession, and guilt can be traced to the Puritanical roots of American society, as argued by Sacvan Bercovitch, who notes “God wanted them to experience the slime” in order to find purification on the other side of penance (The Puritan Origins 14–15). Indeed, Bercovitch notes that the need for a chosen people in a chosen land drove the Puritans to discover within themselves “the biggest sinner in the world,” and to use that excessive shame and disgrace to purge themselves of sin and deviance (Bercovitch, The Puritan Origins 15).

For the Puritans, admitting sin, indeed finding sin in oneself and confessing it for God’s review and punishment, was required: “In their case, they believed, God’s punishments were corrective, not destructive. [ . . . ] His vengeance was a sign of love, a father’s rod used to improve the errant child” (original emphasis; Bercovitch, The American Jeremiad 8). Sin and witchcraft may have been evil, but its corrective punishment from God was divine, reaffirming the Puritanical belief in a blessed and righteous society. The breach was, then, an almost necessary outlet in Salem—a way of tackling ongoing issues in the community via a cathartic, if deadly, purge.

Fearing the worst following the initial “outbreaks” among the young women, Salem community members quickly entered into the crisis. They began using questioning the girls, encouraging them to formulate accusations of witchcraft and undue influence (Starkey 47). Thus the accusations began, at first covering only three women, including Tituba. Upham notes that this group of women was, in many ways, a perfect selection as these women, all outsiders in some way, “were just the kind of persons whom the public prejudice and credulity were prepared to suspect and condemn” (34; vol. 2). The crisis initially appeared to be headed for quick resolution as the village established trials to handle the witches and cleanse the town.

But, during the trials, Tituba did what the others would not: she confessed, telling Salem “exactly what it wanted to hear” (Starkey 58) after being “either beaten [ . . . ] or severely pressured” (Breslaw 540). It is perhaps not surprising then that in Salem, one of the best ways to avoid execution was the act of confession itself.³ Of course, that act of confession had to be followed by the seeking of forgiveness and the implication of others involved in witchcraft, a lesson Tituba learned quickly.⁴ Tituba noted that she saw nine other names written in a book believed by the court to be the ledger of the devil. While her confession and repentance saved her life, the witch hunt was now far from over. Redressive means, meant to bring order in Salem, regressed instead back into a worsening crisis.

All told, more than two hundred people would be accused of consorting with the devil, including well-respected townspeople, such as John and Elizabeth Procter, who feature prominently in the works of Williams and Miller. Of those accused, 19 “witches,” men and women alike, were hanged by the end of the hysteria, including John Procter. Another alleged witch, Giles Corey, was pressed to death by stones for refusing to enter a plea. Several victims, particularly women, were convicted and sentenced to death but were not executed (often due to pregnancy), including Elizabeth Procter. The trials and executions would eventually serve as an uneasy form of resolution in this social drama—albeit a deadly one.

Given the hysteria that surrounded Salem, and the fact that, as Tituba demonstrated, confession (and naming names) was often the safest route to survival, it becomes readily apparent how Salem reminded both Williams and Miller of the HUAC and McCarthyism in Cold War America, and why the act of confession figures prominently in both their plays.

The HUAC

Although the HUAC and McCarthyism are often used synonymously, they were not directly related to one another. Originally formed to investigate Nazi propaganda in 1938, the HUAC became a permanent committee in 1946 and became more interested in the Communist party than any other focus (“HUAC”). It is most well known for its 1947 hearings investigating alleged communist propaganda in the Hollywood motion picture industry (“HUAC”). The Hollywood Ten, a group of subpoenaed writers and directors, were convicted of contempt of Congress (for refusing to answer specific questions posed by committee members) and subsequently given prison time and blacklisted by the industry (“HUAC”). The hearings began a panic in Hollywood. Most studios issued statements announcing they would not employ a communist or a member of a subversive party. The HUAC compiled a list of more than three hundred supposed Communist party members or sympathizers; some were called to testify; many were boycotted (“HUAC”). When called before the HUAC, most witnesses had three options: they could deny any involvement in the Communist party (and face potential perjury charges since most were there because someone had already “named” them); they could admit involvement and be forced to name names; or they could plead the Fifth and be boycotted.

This wave of anticommunist/antisocialist fervor can be seen as a breach in and of itself. However, it could also be seen as the result of an ongoing, unresolved breach and crisis that had existed in the United States since the turn of the century (or, as Miller and Williams try to argue, since the Salem Witch Trials). Both the large influx of immigrants between 1908–1914 and World War I led to a generalized fear of the other, and potentially anti-American or un-American ideas such as socialism and communism. The Red Scare, the execution of Sacco and Vanzetti, and the extreme tactics of J. Edgar Hoover and the Federal Bureau of Investigations demonstrate that this original crisis, rather than finding resolution, continued to bubble under the surface, aided by those who benefited from the ongoing fear.

Indeed, there has been no clear end to this ongoing crisis. The HUAC and McCarthy’s investigations, like the Salem Witch Trials, ran their course, but they lack the distinct redressive means and resolution of Salem. The trials and boycotts did little to permanently assuage a suspicious population. The Cold War continued well beyond the HUAC and McCarthy himself, driven by a continuing distrust of all things potentially anti-American. Given also the tenor of the political rhetoric of the 2012 presidential elections, including the Conservative Right’s significant fear of the allegedly “socialist” policies of President Barack Obama, it is clear that this intrinsic fear of “un-American ideas” is not as far behind us as we may have thought.⁵

McCarthyism

During the 1950s, Senator Joseph McCarthy himself was a symptom of this ongoing crisis, and his quick advancement and public prominence stemmed from his distinct ability to feed the flames of dissent by manipulating the fears of others. Separate from the HUAC, he was often more concerned with larger issues, including communist influences in the US Army and the US State Department. His hugely inaccurate speeches and public bullying tactics led, however, to this red-baiting era often being referred to as the McCarthy years or McCarthyism.⁶ McCarthy is well known for his claim in 1950 that 205 United States State Department employees were members of the Communist party. For several years, he used similar claims and subsequent investigations to keep his own name at the forefront of the new witch hunt in America. Journalist Irving Kristol attributed McCarty’s success to a simple fact: “there is one thing the American people know about Senator McCarthy; he, like them, is unequivocally anti-Communist” (Kristol qtd. in Saunders 207). McCarthy certainly was not alone as the nation feared its enemies abroad and thus turned on its neighbors at home: “Unable to strike directly at the Russians, the most vigilant patriots went after the scalps of their countrymen instead” (Whitfield 9). McCarthy would eventually push too far; his televised “investigation” of US Army officials in 1954 led to his censure for “Abuse of a Senate committee” and the decline of his influence (“The Censure Case”).

The Relationship between Past and Present

The initial moments of breach that led to the Salem Witch Trials and the HUAC/McCarthyism era are eerily similar. Garry Wills, in his introduction to Scoundrel Time, argues that what happened with McCarthy and the HUAC grew out of America’s love for total war—a war that had saved us from the Great Depression while instilling Americans with a sense of purpose and high moral duty. As in Salem, the community was purging itself of its dangerous elements to create a more perfect union. In both cases, a need to protect the whole via the damnation of the parts—even when those parts were potentially innocent—superseded all else.

Salem and the HUAC/McCarthyism also exemplified what Richard Hofstadter has deemed the “Paranoid Style in American Politics.” Those caught up in this form of paranoia are “overheated, oversuspicious, overaggressive, grandiose, and apocalyptic in expression,” much like those involved in the hysteria surrounding the witches in Salem and the communists in the State Department (Hoftstadter 4). Focused on the health of the community (versus the health of the self in the case of true, clinical paranoia), he who is caught up in the paranoid style believes “his political passions are unselfish and patriotic,” and he is filled with “righteousness and [ . . . ] moral indignation” (Hofstadter 4). As the histories of Salem and the HUAC/McCarthyism demonstrate, righteousness, parading as patriotism, is a dangerous mistress.

Such a view of Salem and the HUAC/McCarthyism may be simultaneously idealistic and insufficient, however. Despite the desire to purge the traitors for the sake of an ultimate, holy society in Salem, some scholars and historians have suggested the hysteria was driven by more self-serving motives. The young girls in Salem were, at best, bored young women caught up in the illicit joy of being watched, feared, and listened to by a large portion of the townspeople; they were, at worst, intentionally malicious and unconcerned with how their whimsy ruined people’s lives (Starkey 39). The townspeople caught up in the accusations who supported and encouraged the purge of Salem were at best caught up in the wave of fear, attempting to bring sanctity to Salem; they were at worst involved, neighbor against neighbor, in order to obtain the spoils of their vengeance—the money, land, livestock, and materials left behind by the accused and hanged. As Starkey notes, witches were seen, legally, as “enemy aliens found guilty of conspiring against the government under which they lived; not only their lives but their goods were forfeit” (96). And while convictions were supposed to precede seizures, sometimes “a zealous sheriff” took matters into his own hands a bit earlier than legally allowed (Starkey 96). The Procter’s belongings and livestock, for example, were seized and distributed before their trial, leaving their children without food and shelter (Starkey 96). Scholars have even questioned the motives of the magistrates and the clergy, both in Salem Village and those who arrived from elsewhere in Massachusetts to assist. The Trials, after all, were a prime position from which to assert—and retain—power.

The accusations made against the HUAC and Senator Joseph McCarthy have been less forgiving. The damage done by these two forces was long lasting and indeed their legacies can still be felt today. McCarthy himself was, for several years, unstoppable, destroying anyone in his path.⁷ Journalist Cabell Phillips described him as a man who used “‘lies, slander, and innuendo’” to destroy others while elevating his own reputation (qtd. in Whitfield 38). His unscrupulous actions “‘made cowards of all but a handful of his fellow Senators, and he kept two Presidents angrily and helplessly on the defensive in nearly everything they did’” (qtd. in Whitfield 38). All of this power was retained by a man who “‘couldn’t find a Communist in Red Square’” (qtd. in Whitfield 38). Ultimately, for all their desire to strike down the Communist transgressors and retain only the patriots, both the HUAC and Senator McCarthy ultimately attempted a decidedly un-American action: sanctioning citizens for their thoughts and speech.

This distrust of the very citizenry that puts leaders in place further joins the HUAC, Senator McCarthy, and the Salem Witch trials. The committees in all three instances were interested in those who would name others involved in “evil” acts against the solidarity of the community, whether witchcraft or communism. And while McCarthyism and the HUAC may not have led to hangings, they did lead to the destruction of many lives and livelihoods via blacklists, fines, jail time, and ruined reputations. As Miller points out, alleged communists weren’t killed, but otherwise “the ritual was exactly the same. You told them anyone you knew had been a left-winger or a Communist and you went home” (qtd. in C. Bigsby xvi). The decision—to suffer oneself or to bring the suffering down on others—was both devastating for those who ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title
• Introduction
• 1   Confession and Crime, Confession as Crime: Williams’s Tituba’s Children and Miller’s The Crucible
• 2   Confrontation and Challenge: Baldwin’s Blues for Mister Charlie as a Response to the Murder of Emmett Till
• 3   Condemnation as Redress: Melville’s Benito Cereno, Wright’s Man, God Ain’t Like That . . . , and Lowell’s Benito Cereno
• 4   Celebration of Family as a Means of Difference and Hope: Hansberry’s A Raisin in the Sun and Odets’s Awake and Sing!
• Conclusion: Intentions and Impacts
• Notes
• Works Cited
• Index