r. Terriss
disappear. Before they return, the stage carpenters begin to prepare
for the murder scene in the last act. A number of what appear to be
canvas-covered trunks are brought in and laid down to represent stones
in the choir of Canterbury Cathedral.

Meantime, some of the gentlemen who represent the monks in this scene
playfully spar at one another, or lunge with walking-sticks at imaginary
foes. The carpenters are busy measuring the stage in all directions with
tapes in accordance with a plan which one of them holds in his hand.
Before Mr. Irving returns, the "supers" group themselves "left" and
answer to their names. When he reappears, they look at him expectantly.
"I am not going to rehearse this scene to-day," he says, "but will just
arrange it. Those who sing, go over right (left from the audience). You
sing the vespers. I want six more with you. Then, twelve of the
shortest. You follow them. All the short ones you have, please. Yes,
you're short (to a diminutive 'super' who is standing on tiptoe and
trying to look seven feet high at least). Don't be bashful. You're none
the worse for being short. Come along"; and with unfailing memory Mr.
Irving calls each man by name, and indicates his place. When a man fails
to quite realise what is required of him, Mr. Irving takes him by the
shoulders, and gently moves him along to the required position, very
much as if the individual in question were a pawn about to be played in
a game of chess. As soon as the monks are grouped to his satisfaction,
he steps back. "That's it. Now, you all come down from the choir. There
is a loud hammering against the door. I go to open the door, and all of
you rush right by me." Then Mr. Irving opens the door to his murderers,
and is borne back by the crowd of terrified monks. Five minutes
afterwards, he has returned to life, and is rehearsing a scene from
"King Lear," with Miss Ellen Terry's understudy, in as natural and
unembarrassed a manner as if he had not been working hard for three
hours previously.

Especial care is bestowed by Mr. Irving with regard to every detail of
the murder scene. On another occasion, the scenery is not ready, but a
flight of steep steps, essential to the action, is placed far back in a
position to left of the stage. As "Becket" has never been played before,
there are no traditions whatever to guide actors or scenic artists, and
each movement, phrase, gesture, and intonation, must be "created." Mr.
Irvi