The Montgomery advertiser., 1909-10-31

are prone statues, busts deformed by the damp. keystones lying on the grass. old doors blocked by ieafy shrubs. There are also gardens with great clip ped yews. tall seventeenth century doorways; buildings of the same pe- riod, pompous and worldly. and under the old bulging roofs a chapter-room. a chapel. an endless array of deserted cells, maze of silent passages and rooms of the time of Louis XIV. with their wooden wainscotings. Lastly, mightier than all. there is the great twelfth century refectory. with its bar barrie spaciousness. it's arches fixed In the walls. It's silence. in which the least sound becomes solemn.a its gloom. in which the least ray of light becomes important. -"
 Here. at St. wandrille, the arrange ment of the rooms and terraces, lead ing into and following upon one anoth- CT in absolute variety. allowed one to employ them as c wonderful set or scenes. admirably great, majestic and of singular soiidity. Therefore one had to move towards them. seeing that they were motionless. One had also to ind the immense drama which would fill tthose ancient halls even as liquid bronze fills the casting mold. the drama whose scenes would adapt them selves to the scenery in a sufficiently logical sequence to permit the audience to change their places easily and sell dom. There was a good deal Of discus sion as to the drawbacks of this mov- ing from one place to another; 1t was suggested. above all, that the atmos- phere. that mysterious air which Is gradually evolved from the cornmun- ion between the stage and the house. the air in which sympathy fourfshes and emotion and enthusiasm; 1t was constantly suggested that, through the moving of the spectators. this myste- rious atmosphere would never be able to condense around the scenes. be- iieve that those who have not seen the place of the performance must have Imagined long walks and other difh- culties that were carefully avoided, for the spectators at no time had more than a few steps to take to pass from one room to another, and often moved about much less than they do for their own pleasure when they visit the foyer of a theatre between the acts. In point of fact. there was nothing to be feared from this innovation. The real problem lay elsewhere. in the conflict of Ideas that might arise from reality taking the place of Illusion. and this problem was not to be solved until the evening of the performances itself.
 Chance placed in my hands last sum- mer at Saint -Wandrile. Victor Hugo,s translation of Macbeth" a rough, but, it seems, a faithful translation. read the play as I strolled through the cloisters. the ruins and the great de- serted rooms; and. little by little. 1t ap- peared to me as though the images created in my mind by the great poet were living on every side of me.
 shall never forget my emotions of that day. Between the pages of the little volume which I clasped in my hands slept a command. Suddenly. on this fair summers day. 1t springs into existence, guides my foottseps, enlight- from room to room from the cloisters to the gardens. from the terraces to the ruins, from the chapel to the. re- factory. I hurry along, following the scenes that shift before my minds eye, Here Is the spot in the park. wild, neglected. interspersed with heath and bracken. where the witches dance. Macbeth and BanQuo Will arrive over there. from across the plain, before we ,seeA them,' we shall heaFSthe sound of their voices and the ne4ghing of their mounts, they will alight to question the bearded crones with the choppy fingers and the skinny lips. and, after the prophecy. they will draw closer, they will come so near the spectators as to be able 10 whisper their secret, and Macbeth. now alone, Macbeth, al- ready caught in the tolls of his ambi- ton. will think his horrible dream aloud.
 But I cross the room from which 1 have just watched this first scene, and Lady Macbeth stands before me. She holds the letter of which she already knows the contents, she Is lit up with joy; even now she is wholly possessed by the idea which holds her and which will not leave her before the last mo- ment has come. We saw the man de- batting, resisting and struggling. but in the weaker woman the thought en- countered no obstacle.
 A sound of voices in the court with. in; spurs ring against the hagstones. and the hero enters.-s trum- pet sounds in the distance. It is the