ABSTRACT
I may describe myself as a convert to Arthur Miller. When his Death of a Salesman first appeared it was rapturously hailed as a tragedy, and my critical colleagues could not find praise high enough to serve for it. I resisted, because I stuck with Sir Philip Sidney's judgement that 'tragedy concerneth a high fellow', and nothing could make a high fellow of Willy Loman; he did not so much fall, as slump. But time and better judgement changed my mind. The play is indeed a tragedy. In my days as a newspaper editor I had met scores of Willys and their existence was a tragic indictment of society. Since that time I have become convinced that Arthur Miller is the true successor to Eugene O'Neill, and in my judgement superior to O'Neill in his perception of the tragic downfall of people who, through the malignity of society or their own weakness, or a combination of the two, have become psychological cripples. They are not great people, but suffering is relative; their pain is as much as they can bear, and does tragedy demand more? Arthur Miller's concept of tragedy has enlarged my understanding, and of how many men can anyone truly say as much?
