The Crucible: Metaphors 7 key examples

The way that Putnam uses the metaphor of "wheels within wheels" suggests that there are unknown, powerful forces at play beneath the surface of Salem’s events. This imagery implies that everything that people can see happening is in fact driven by deeper, unseen mechanisms. Because of the claustrophobic, gossip-ridden atmosphere of the town, Putnam feels like everything people do has an ulterior motive. This feels bad, which is why she implies here and elsewhere that the motive is evil or even Satanic in nature. Her use of "wheels" here connotes machinery and intricacy, which also points to the idea that the town’s troubles involve multiple layers of manipulation and control.

The second metaphor, "fires within fires," amplifies this idea. Having said that there are “wheels within wheels,” Putnam goes on to link the machinations she describes to ideas of hell and torment. "Fires within fires" suggests that, like the wheels, deeper and more secret causes fuel larger and more public problems.

The metaphor Nurse uses here—the "brick and mortar of the church"—aligns Rebecca Nurse to the fundamental building blocks of the Christian community in Salem. Nurse—and John Proctor—helped build the actual church the town of Salem uses for worship. The church and its laws are central to life in the town. By describing her as the "brick and mortar" of it, Francis suggests that his wife is not only an upright member of the church but also a person who holds the community together. This metaphor emphasizes her piety, underscoring the silliness of the accusations against her. Rebecca Nurse, as many other characters note, is considered to be an example of Christian behavior; it’s shocking that she would be accused, let alone arrested.

The hyperbole "there cannot be a woman closer yet to God than Martha" only further amplifies Francis’s argument that the women are innocent. By claiming that no woman is closer to god than his friend Martha Corey, Francis highlights her exceptional devotion to god and to Salem. This exaggerated statement is intended to make the accusations of witchcraft seem even more preposterous than Francis already knows they are. He is hoping to appeal to reason and prevent their condemnation. Although it’s ultimately ineffective, he’s trying to show how absurd the accusers are being.

The metaphor "an everlasting funeral marches around your heart" refers poetically to Elizabeth’s seemingly endless sorrow and inability to truly forgive John. It’s a common misconception that Puritan theocratic societies like the town of Salem didn’t allow for divorce; they did, and it was actually the Massachusetts Bay colony that legalized divorce in 1629. The dissolution of marriage was actually often granted for circumstances involving adultery, as Proctor’s marriage does in The Crucible. However, Elizabeth is a deeply religious character and believes that it is her god-given duty to stay with her husband and to forgive him for his infidelity. Although she struggles to actually let the betrayal go, she tries to act as though all is forgiven.

Since Elizabeth is a poor liar, however, her husband is not fooled. Proctor likens Elizabeth’s emotional state to a perpetual funeral here, suggesting that she remains in a state of mourning even though there’s nothing else he can do to atone for his adultery. This metaphor gives the sense that Elizabeth sees her life as an unending procession of grief, where Proctor’s misdeeds are constantly paraded in front of him. Despite Proctor’s efforts to please her, he feels that her heart remains closed off.

The simile "as though I come into a court when I come into this house" further points to Proctor’s feeling of being constantly judged and scrutinized. By comparing his home to a courtroom, Proctor implied that Elizabeth treats him like a defendant on trial. Rather than being able to speak freely, he feels that every action and word of his are subject to doubt and judgment. Proctor feels that he cannot escape the scrutiny and suspicion his wife lives with, even in his own home.

The personification of vengeance as an entity that can “walk” through Salem emphasizes the power of the children’s accusations. Proctor describes vengeance as if it has its own agency, separate from the humans feeling the emotion. As such, he is suggesting that the desire for revenge has become a powerful force controlling the town. Proctor—and, he assumes, the other adults in the room—knows that the “witches” accused are really just townsfolk against whom other Salemites want to take revenge. It’s a legal way to get their property (as convicted witches forfeited their possessions to the commonwealth) or to get revenge for perceived slights. The trials are clearly unjust, given the nature of the accusations and the scant “evidence” behind them. This depiction underscores the danger of allowing personal vendettas to dictate justice, as the rational no longer rule Salem.

The metaphor comparing Salem to a “kingdom” makes this criticism seem even more pointed. Massachusetts was still a British colony at this point, so it was actually still a “kingdom” when Proctor and his neighbors lived in Salem. When Proctor states that the "little crazy children are jangling the keys of the kingdom," he implies that Abigail and her friends, who are making baseless accusations, now hold supreme power over the community. This metaphor suggests a reversal of order, where the people least capable of wielding authority are now in control, “jangling the keys of the kingdom.”

The implied metaphor here compares Elizabeth’s spirit to a rope that twists around John’s “single mistake,” suggesting that the guilt she makes him feel has a suffocating grip on him. Miller does not make an explicit comparison in this passage, but the image he provides here implies that Elizabeth’s ill-concealed anger and shame are constricting John. This metaphor shows how her unrelenting resentment creates a sense of entrapment for her husband. Because she’s always moments away from making a reference to his affair, she makes him feel claustrophobic and hysterical. The “twisting of [her] spirit” around his error points to the way her feelings are entangling and overpowering him. Because she can’t help bringing it up, he feels she is preventing him from moving past his mistake.

This line also serves as a moment of foreshadowing. During the later witch trials, the girls involved will accuse Elizabeth (and other women) of “sending their spirits against them” in an effort to make them frightened and compliant.

The system of theocracy (a society governed by belief in rules set by a higher power) in Massachusetts in the 1600s was one that didn’t allow for any deviation from Christian laws of behavior. People lived strict, simple lives, where misdeeds were harshly punished and the community policed itself internally. Despite this harsh environment, the metaphor of "the dusky afternoon" that Danforth uses here represents a period when evil “mixed itself with good.” He is implying that before the hysteria of the witch trials began, people were behaving in a “befuddled” way that was insufficiently regulated. Danforth suggests that the previous era had a lack of clarity, where distinguishing between right and wrong was difficult for the Salemites.

Danforth contrasts this image with the metaphor of "the shining sun," which he uses to represent “God’s grace” coming to Salem. At this point, he believes fully in the procedures he is presiding over and thinks that he is helping the town by running the trials. He implies that the current time of hysteria is actually a moment of righteousness and clarity. Anyone who truly loves god, he implies, “will surely praise it.” Complaining about the trials implicates a person as being guilty as much as being accused of witchcraft would.

The metaphor of a "shred of goodness" likens Proctor’s moral integrity to a piece of undyed fabric. Although Proctor admits that the “goodness” left in him is only a shred, insufficient to “weave a banner,” it is still important enough to be worth keeping. This metaphor suggests that while Proctor’s sense of self-worth and virtue may be too little and too late, it is still pure ("white") and valuable. The comparison to fabric implies that goodness, like a piece of cloth, is something that can be seen and waved like a flag.

By stating that the shred is "not enough to weave a banner with," Proctor acknowledges that his moral standing may not be strong enough to be publicly admired, like a flag or a “banner” might be. He knows he has set a bad example by confessing to crimes he didn’t commit and implicating his friends, but he now decides not to set an even worse one. He says that although the amount of “goodness” he had left is not enormous, it is sufficient to keep him from the metaphorical "dogs." These “dogs” are the people who would destroy his integrity by forcing him to sign a false confession; Proctor is rudely referring to the court of public opinion in a terrified Salem. Refusing to sign the confession makes Proctor a martyr, demonstrating his commitment to truth despite the fact that that commitment causes his death.