I have never seen an actress who cares less about herself than Mme. Hammer and cares so deeply for the character she is presenting. The expressions of her face are marvelous.... She said to me once that she disagreed with critics who thought Hedda Gabler had nothing to give. “She had so much, so very much to give,” she said passionately. No wonder she thinks so: she is a big woman who herself has an infinity of things to give. M. C. A. “THE TROJAN WOMEN” Of the production of _The Trojan Women_ of Euripides by The Little Theatre Company, at the Blackstone Theatre, Sunday, April 11th, one might waste many, many words and much good space. One might make merry over the quaint little mannikins trying their hardest to look like Spartan soldiers. Or again, a whole column might be devoted to the insipid posturings of the saintly-pretty lady who played Helen. Much sarcasm might be expended on the flops done, in the approved French-tragedy style, by the lady who played Andromache. A whole thesis might be written by an enterprising student at some correspondence school on the use of the Vaudeville Spotlight in Classic Greek Tragedy. And Hamlet’s advice to the players might be quoted with some profit to a few of the company: pointed emphasis at the “do not _mouth_ your words” part of the advice, to the lady who speaks the speech beginning: Lo, yonder ships: I ne’er set foot on one, But tales and pictures tell, when over them Breaketh a storm not all too strong to stem, Each man strives hard, the tiller gripped, the mast Manned, the hull baled, to face it, till at last Too strong breaks the o’erwhelming sea: lo, then They cease, and yield them up as broken men To fate and the wild waters. And last of all one might say unkind things about the blending of the voices in the chorus. All the above points, however, I know are very debatable. There are two that cannot be debated. Two that outbalance by far all the other defects of the production. If all the cast had voices like corncrakes, and used them after the manner of country-town amateurs, the production would still be worth seeing for the thrilling pictures of colour and line presented by individuals and the ensemble. And rising, soaring away above all the petty little defects is the wonderful, majestical verse of Euripides. What could be more beautiful than the lyric: Even as the sound of a song Left by the way, but long Remembered, a tune of tears Falling where no man hears, In the old house as rain, For things loved of yore: But the dead hath lost his pain And weeps no more. It is greatly to be regretted that it has been thought fit to cut that lyric, Cassandra’s Hymn to Hymen, and many of the other beautiful parts of the play.