by-and-by we hear news of shipwreck in the same place, and then we are to blame if we accept it not for a rock; upon the back of that comes out a hideous monster, and then the miserable beholders are bound to take it for a cave; while in the meantime two armies fly in, represented with four swords and bucklers, and then, what hard heart will not receive it for a pitched field?” Dryden, it may be noted, in his “Essay of Dramatic Poesie,” has a kindred passage as to the matters to be acted on the stage, and the things “supposed to be done behind the scenes.”

Of the scenery of his time, Mr. Pepys makes frequent mention, without, however, entering much into particulars on the subject.  In August, 1661, he notes the reproduction of Davenant’s comedy of “The Wits,” “never acted yet with scenes;” adding, “and, indeed, it is a most excellent play and admirable scenes.”  A little later he records a performance of “‘Hamlet, Prince of Denmark,’ done with scenes very well, but, above all, Betterton did the prince’s part beyond imagination.”  It is satisfactory to find that in this case, at any rate, the actor held his ground against the scene-painter.  Under another date, he refers to a representation of “The Faithful Shepherdess” of Fletcher, “a most simple thing, and yet much thronged after and often shown; but it is only for the scene’s sake, which is very fine.”  A few years later he describes a visit “to the King’s Playhouse all in dirt, they being altering of the stage, to make it wider.  But my business,” he proceeds, “was to see the inside of the stage, and all the ’tiring-rooms and machines; and, indeed, it was a sight worth seeing.  But to see their clothes, and the various sorts, and what a mixture of things there was—­here a wooden leg, there a ruff, here a hobby-horse, there a crown, would make a man split himself to see with laughing; and particularly Lacy’s wardrobe and Shotrell’s.  But then, again, to think how fine they show on the stage by candlelight, and how poor things they are to look at too near at hand, is not pleasant at all.  The machines are fine, and,” he concludes, “the paintings very pretty.”  In October, 1667, he records that he sat in the boxes for the first time in his life, and discovered that from that point of view “the scenes do appear very fine indeed, and much better than in the pit.”

The names of the artists whose works won Mr. Pepys’s applause have not come down to us.  Of Robert Streeter, sergeant-painter to King Charles II., there is frequent mention made in the “Diary” of Evelyn, who highly lauds the artist’s “very glorious scenes and perspectives,” which adorned Dryden’s play of “The Conquest of Granada,” on its representation at Whitehall.  Evelyn, not caring much for such entertainments, seems, nevertheless, to have frequently attended the plays and masques of the Court.  In February, 1664, he saw acted “The Indian Queen” of Sir Robert Howard and Dryden—­“a tragedy well written, so beautiful with rich scenes as the like had never