ABSTRACT
I cannot think Mr. Eliot wished to resemble: Ibsen. There is the same plot of inexorable destiny, the same visiting of the sins of the fathers on the children, the same bad manners (I do not remember reading any play in which the chief characters were so consistently rude), the same flaying of bourgeois virtues, the same obsessions - almost, one would say, the same ghosts. The intent, no doubt, was to effect a resolution: to show the solemn forms of Christian faith emerging through disbelief, petulance, and horror to invest the curse with meaning; but the end seems rather a surprise than a resolution.
