The matinee of The Trojan Women, which Sybil Thorndike, Lewis
Casson and Margaret Rawlings are giving at the Adelphi Theatre next Tuesday for the funds of the League of Nations Union, has a special, and a twofold, appropriate- ness. In the first play the translation_is, of course, Gilbert Murray's—none other could be dreamed _of—and Professor Murray is Chairman of the L.N.U. Executive Committee. Secondly, The Trojan Women, as everyone who has read the play or seen a performance of it knows, is a poignant tragedy turning on the lot of women in wartime. To a world which the slaughter in Spain and China leaves almost insensitive by its repetition and protraction, the words of Euripides, pre, sented after two thousand years in modem verse, must bring some renewal, perhaps salutary, of responsibility and shame.
ANUS.
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