received represented a prejudice that may be
found among those semi-Puritans of the present
day, who abhor theatres, but have no objection to
"entertainments."

Davenant's opera, the Siege of Rhodes, brought
out on the opening of the theatre in Lincoln's
Inn-fields, in 1661, was a lyrical drama to all
intents and purposes, and was illustrated
throughout with painted scenery, which changed
with a supposed change of place. Here, therefore,
we find the use of painted changeable
scenery perfectly known and used in a public
theatre in 1661, to the great delight, doubtless,
of Samuel Pepys, who, on the 2nd of July in
that year, went to see the Siege of Rhodes, then
performed for the fourth time.

All this seems clear as an Italian sky; but
here comes the haze. Bearing in mind that the
art of illustrating a piece by scenery, exactly
after the principle now adopted, was fully known
and practised in 1661, we turn to the Indian
Queen, of Dryden, which was first brought out
at the Theatre Royal (occupied by the King's
company, under Killigrew) in 1664. Here we
find "Act I., Scene I.," with divers entrances
and exits, and no indication of a picture, so that
whether we regard the word "scene" in the
Latin or in the modern English sense, it is
wholly superfluous. Then comes "Act II.,
Scene I.," which, still without any indication of
a picture, opens with the stage directions,
"Enter Ynca and Orazia, as pursued in battle;"
and when all the persons who enliven the
imaginary battle-field have retired, we are
informed, without use of the word "scene," that
"Zempoalla appears seated upon a throne,
frowning upon her attendants." Here is a
manifest change of place; but whether there was
a change of picture, or indeed any picture at all,
deponent sayeth not. At the opening of the
third act we find Zempoalla—who, by the way,
is the usurping Indian queen—"seated upon her
slaves in triumph;" and when she and her pomp
have vanished, we have this direction, "Ismeron
asleep in the scene." Here a change of the
supposed place of action from the palace of
Zempoalla to the prison in which Ismeron is
confined, is plainly indicated by the dialogue; but
whether there is a painted prison or not we do
not learn, and the same may be said when we
come to Act IV., and find that "the scene opens
and discovers Montezuma sleeping in prison."
But with the fifth act a total change of system
begins. We are told that "the scene opens
and discloses the Temple of the Sun, all of gold,
and four priests in habits of white, and red
feathers, attending by a bloody altar, as ready
for sacrifice." Here we have the picture at last—
the scene in the modern sense of the word.

Why were the previous pictures, which,
according to our present stage arrangements,
ought to have been pretty numerous, passed over
without mention ? If throughout the entire play
no reference whatever had been made to a
picture, we might conclude that the poet considered
the indication of such decorations as important
merely to the stage director, and not to the
general reader. But he does mention the
Temple of the Sun, and he does not mention
anything else, though this could not have
concerned the reader more than the rest of the
scenery. Here we have an instances of the
haze to which I have referred.

To contribute towards the dissipation of this
haze, I would call attention to the fact that the
fifth act, supposing the play to be pictorially
decorated throughout, requires a more splendid
picture than any of the others. Ordinary
landscapes and interiors might serve for the rest of
the piece; but the Temple of the Sun was
evidently intended to dazzle the eyes of all
beholders. Now, my theory is that there was a
transition period in the course of stage-decoration,
during which painted scenes were used only
when some special pictorial effect was to be
produced, the old system of traverses being retained
when nothing of the sort was intended. The
Cruelty to the Spaniards and the Siege of Rhodes
were essentially spectacles, and were therefore
decorated throughout; the Indian Queen was
only a spectacle in its last act, and therefore
the last act alone was decorated.

Let me test this theory by showing how I
would reduce it to practice, if I were a stage-
manager required to produce the Indian Queen,
according to the directions cited above, with no
other decoration than the traverses and the
scene representing the Temple. In the first act
no supposed change of place seems to occur, so
I should draw off the front curtains on each
side, and reveal the whole stage, undecorated
save by drapery. When the front curtains had
been again drawn together after the end of the
first act, I should close my traverses half way
down the stage, the back of which I should
conceal, while the front would represent the field
of battle. Afterwards, I should withdraw my
traverses on each side, and discover Zempoalla
on a throne, which could have been put on the
back portion of the stage while the business of
the battle-field was going on, without placing
any painted scene behind it. Having again
closed my front curtains at the end of the second
act, I should once more draw my traverses together,
and turn to account the difference of the
stage directions referring to the two discoveries
of Zempoalla. In the latter portion (scene, we
should say now) of the second act, just
concluded, she appears seated on a throne; at the
opening of the third, she appears seated on her
slaves in triumph; so having arrived at the
third act, and having again drawn my traverses
together, while the front curtains were closed I
should put Zempoalla on the front part of the
stage, not seating her as before on a fixed throne,
but on the shoulders of the slaves, perhaps on a
sort of palanquin. A throne so composed of
living materials would break up and disperse of
its own accord, when I wanted to clear the stage
to make way for the prison of Ismeron, and I
should not be driven to the clumsy expedient of
pushing off a huge chair in the sight of the
audience. My stage direction respecting the
imprisonment of Ismeron being comprised in