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This performed, and the nobility joyning to the township of Edenborough, they receaved the King and Queene from the town of Lyeth, the King riding before, and the Queene behinde him in her chariot, with her maides of honor of ech fide of her Majefties one. Her chariot was drawne with eight borfes, capparifoned in velvet, imbrodred with filver and gold, very rich, her highneffe maifter of her houfhoulde, and other Danish ladies on the one fide, and the Lorde Hamilton on the other, together with the rest of the nobility, and after her chariot followed the Lord Chancelour's wife, the Lady Bothwell, and other the ladies, with the burgefes of the towne and others round about her, as of Edinbrough, of Lyeth, of Fishrow, of Middleborow, of Preston, of Dalkith, &c. all the inhabitants being in armour, and giving a volle of fhotte to the King and Queene in their paffage, in joy of their fafe arrivall. In this manner they paffed to the Abbey of Holy Roode Houfe, where they remained untill the feventeenth of May, upon which day the Queene was crowned in the faid Abbey Church, after the fermon was ended by Maister Robert Bruce and M. David Linfey, with great triumphes. The coronation ended, the was conveide to her chamber, being led by the Lord Chancelor, on the one fide and the Embaffador of Englande on the other, fixe ladies bearing uppe their traine, having going before her twelve heraultes in their coates of armes, and fundrye trumpets ftill founding. The Earl of Angus bare the fworde of honor, the L. Hamilton the scepter, and the Duke of Lenox the crowne. Thus was that day spent in joy and mirth. Uppon Tuesday the nineteenth of May, her Majefty made her entry into Edinborough in her chariot, with the Lordes and Nobility giving their attendance, among the which ther

were fixe and thirty Danes on horsebacke with foote clothes, every of them being accompanied with fome Scottish Lorde or Knight, and all the ladies following the chariot. At her coming to the fouth fide of the yardes of the Canogit, along the parke wall, being in fight of the Caftle, they gave her thence a great volle of fhotte, with their banners and auncientes difplaied upon the walles. Thence fhee came to the Weft port, under the which her highneffe ftaied, and had an oration to welcome her to the towne, uttered in Latine by one maifter John Ruffell, who was thereto appointed by the townefhippe, whofe fonne also being placed uppon the toppe of the Portehead, and was let downe by a devife made in a globe, which being come fomewhat over her Majefties heade, opened at the toppe into foure quarters, where the childe appearing in the refemblance of an angell delivered her the keyes of the towne in filver, which done, the quarters clofed, and the globe was taken uppe agayne, fo as the childe was no more feene there. Shee had also a canapie of purple velvet, embrodered with gold, carried over her by fixe ancient townes men. There were also threefcore young men of the towne lyke Moores, and clothed in cloth of filver, with chaines about their neckes, and bracelets about their armes, fet with diamonds and other precious ftones, verie gorgeous to the eie, who went before the chariot betwixt the horsemen and it, everie one with a white staffe in his hande to keepe off the throng of people, where also rid the Provoft and Baileefes of the towne with foote clothes to keepe the people in good order, with most of the inhabitants in their best araie to doe the like. In this order her Grace paffed on the Bow freet, where was erected a table, whereupon ftood a globe of the whole worlde, with a boy fitting therby,

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and made her an oration, which done, fhe went up the Bowe, wher were caft forth a number of banqueting dishes as they came by, and comming to the butter trone, there were placed nine maidens bravely arraied in cloth of filver and gold, reprefenting the nine Mufes, who fung verie fweete muficke, where a brave youth played upon the organs, which accorded excellentlie with the finging of their pfalmes, whereat her Majeftie ftaied awhile, and thence paffed downe through the high gate of Edinburgh, which was all decked with tapiftry from the top to the bottom: at her Graces coming to the Tolboth, there ftood on high the four vertues, as first, Justice with the ballance in one hand, and the fword of justice in the other; then Temperence, having in the one hand a cup of wine, and in the other hand a cup of water; Prudence, holding in her hand a ferpent and a dove, declaring that men ought to be as wife as the ferpent to prevent mischief, but as fimple as a dove eyther in wrath or malice. The laft is Fortitude, who held a broken piller in her hand, reprefenting the Atrength of a kingdome.

who reprefented the perfon of a King, a table covered, whereupon ftood cups of gold and filver full of wine, with the Goddeffe of Corne and Wine fitting thereat, and the corne on heapes by her, who in Latine cried that there fhould be plentie thereof in her time, and on the fide of the croffe fate the God Bacchus upon a punchion of wine, drinking and casting it up by cups full upon the people, befides other of the townfmen that caft apples and nuts among them, and the croffe itself ranne claret wine upon the caulfway for the royaltie of that daie. Thence her Grace rode downe the gate to the fault trone, whereupon fate all the Kings heretofore of Scotland, one of them lying along at their feete, as if he had bene fick, whom certain fouldiers feemed to awake at her Majefties comming: whereupon he arose and made her an oration in Latine. Which ended, she paffed down to the neather bow, which was beautified with the marage of a King and his Queene, with all, their nobilitie about them, among whom at her highnefs prefence there arofe a youth who applied the fame to the marriage of the King and herfelfe, and fo bleffed that marriage. Which done, there was let downe unto her from the top of the porte in a filke ftring a box covered with purple velvet, whereupon was embroidered an A. for Anna (her Majefties name) fet with diamonds and precious ftones, esteemed at twentie thousand crownes, which the townshippe gave for a prefent to her highnefs; and then, after finging of fome pfalmes, with verie good muficke, her Grace departed to the Abbey for that night.

Thus fhe paffed on to the croffe, uppon the toppe whereof the had a pfalm fung in verie good muficke before her comming to the churche, which done, her Majestie came forth of her chariot, and was conveied unto S. Giles Church, where she heard a fermon preached by M. Robert Bruce. That ended with praiers for her highneffe, she was conveied againe to her chariot. Against her coming forth, there ftood upon the top of the croffe

CHARACTERS OF THE MOST EMINENT FRENCH DRAMATIC POETS.
By a Frenchman.

P. Corneille. ORNEILLE had the fole and fingular glory of creating his

art, and fixing its limits. Ed. Mag. June 1799.

He has been imitated by many; he has been furpaffed by none.

He found no models, but he will ferve as a model to the lateft pofterity. 3 K Ia

In creating him, Nature made an effort, from which the will perhaps reft for many ages.

To his genius alone he owed his productions and their fuccefs.

He was obliged to invent his pieces, to form actors, and to create an audience.

He preceded the fplendid age of Louis XIV. which but for him, would perhaps never have existed.

In Richelieu he first found a patron, and afterwards a rival. But the Minister was always obliged to do homage to the Writer. His works extorted admiration, and his perfon esteem.

Corneille lived and died poor, becaufe genius, which produces won ders of excellence, knows not how to folicit penfions. He had, however, a penfion, without afking for it, and which, but for Delpreaux, he would have loft by a court intrigue.

It is perhaps to the tragedies of Corneille that revolution is to be afcribed, which regenerated the minds of the French; that republic fermentation, which at the death of Louis XIII. had nearly changed the face of the kingdom.

Corneille poffeffed that great cha racter which does not always accom pany eminent talents, but which is the feal ftamped by nature on the man of genius.

Pofterity has not yet decided between Cinna, Polieufte, Le Cid, Rodogune, and Horaces. Any one of thefe pieces would establish the repu tation of a great writer; all of them conftitute but a part of that of Corneille.

In Nicomede he created a species of dramatic writing in which he has had no imitators.

It was reserved for this great man to be the father of both fpecies of dramatic compofition, and the fame hand which wrote La Mort de Pom pée wrote alfo Le Menteur.

The Menteur is the firft pieceof

character that appeared in France, and the only comedy before Moliere entitled to a continuance of the public esteem.

Corneille was fometimes the friend of the great, but never their flave. He could refift Cardinal Richelieu, who made Europe tremble. Power fhrinks before genius.

Corneille is the only writer who obtained with univerfal confent the furname of Great, a title that had before been conferred folely on princes and heroes.

All the audience rofe up when Corneille, loaded with years and with glory, entered the theatre, and the great Condé himself did homage to the Author of Cinna.

He lived to a confiderable age without furviving his talents, and in his laft works we frequently perceive the fame flashes of genius which blaze forth in his firft.

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only displayed his fuperiority in more ftriking colours.

Racine does not lay hold of the heart at once; he infinuates himself by degrees; but once eftablished there, he reigns omnipotent.

Before Racine, we knew nothing of those sweet emotions, thofe delicious cords of fenfibility on which he played; we fhed no real tears over imaginary misfortunes.

The heroes whom he paints are in a manner like ourfelves. We are interefted warmly in their fate; they become our fathers, our brothers, our friends; we participate in all the fentiments they experience.

Racine paints with equal fuperiority the rage of love and the workings of ambition, paternal tenderness, and the torments of jealoufy, the fim plicity and candour of infancy, and the magnanimity of heroism; all the paffions are at his command; nothing is beyond his genius.

It is not in reading Racine that we perceive the weaknefs and fterility of the French language. Nothing equals the harmony of his verses, unlefs it be the juftnefs of his thoughts.

It is not by a multiplicity of events, by theatrical trick, or by the number of his perfonages, that he pleafes and interests us. Action is the foul of tragedies in general; the genius of Racine could do without it. It is not the intereft of curiofity that prevails in his pieces; we enjoy the prefent without thinking of the future; we wish to dwell on every fcene, and we lament the rapidity of time.

Of all the tragedies that have appeared on the ftage, that of Berenice has perhaps the leaft action; and who will fay that it is not one of the most interesting

Racine is perhaps the only dramatic author who gains by being read, because the ftage, while it hides the defects of style, prevents at the fame time many beauties from being difcovered.

The mind of Racine was mild, gentle, and fenfible, yet he had from his infancy a tafte for epigram, and it required fome effort to give his genius a different turn.

I pity thofe who do not relish Racine; they are barbarians unworthy the name of men of letters.

Racine has fecured to the French theatre a fuperiority which all nations acknowledge, and which they' dare not contelt.

The refpect which Racine entertained for the Ancients proves how worthy he was of being added to their number.

There is more philofophy in one tragedy of Racine than in all the works of our modern reformers, who have dared to accufe him of want of philofophy.

Louis XIV. gave a proof of his judgment in continuing to encou rage Racine; and he thus honoured that talent which gave the greatest luftre to his reign.

Some verfes of Britannicus were a leffon to the Monarch, and caufed him to facrifice one of his fondest propenfitics. We know not which to admire moft in this, the docility of the Sovereign, or the courage of the poet.

He re

Racine, fought after, honoured, entertained by the first perfonages of the age, preferred the fociety of his friends to that of the great. fufed an entertainment at the great Condé's, to dine on a carp with his family; an anecdote that proves the goodness of his heart, and is not unworthy of a place in his hiftory.

Delpreaux taught Racine with difficulty to make eafy verfes; he was his conftant admirer and friend, and faid that his Athalie, though it had no fuccefs at Court, was his beft work.

Corneille quarrelled with Racine for one line of the comedy of the Plaideurs, a circumstance not at all to his honour.

Moliere, La Fontaine, and Defpreaux were the conftant friends of 3 K 2 Racine

Racine; they polifhed their talents together, and perfected their works by the mutual feverity of their critiilms.

Racine ceased to write for the theatre at the age of thirty-eight years. There were twelve years between his Phedre and his Efther; and when we reflect, that in this space of time he produced fix chef d'œuvres, we cannot but deteft the envy of those who fow with bitternefs the career of genius.

We are indebted to Madame de Maintenon for his Efther and Athalie, which Racine compofed for S. Cyr, and for this benefit I can pardon in her a number of infirmities and errors. The prefaces of Racine are models of ftyle, of concifenefs, and modefty. It is to be regretted that be did not write more in profe, as there is in it a neatnefs and elegance which few writers have equalled.

Racine died in his fifty-ninth year of an excess of fenfibility, of which his love of humanity was the caufe.

He was the glory of his age and nation, and to the fhame of both, the monument is yet to be found that contains his afhes.

Moliere.

If I were asked who was the greateft preacher of the last age, I would anfwer without hefitation, Moliere.

The comedies of Moliere have operated more reforms than the fermons of Bourdaloue have made converts.

The thundering voice of the Chrif. tian orator terrified the vicious, without eradicating their vices; the inimitable pencil of the comic poet forced vice and abfurdity to conceal themselves, to avoid the refemblance of his paintings.

The firft work of Moliere was a comedy of character, and if it be not a chef d'œuvre, it at leaft furpaffes all that had preceded it, with the exception of the Menteur.

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Moliere was thirty-eight years old when he began to write; he died at fifty-three; it is difficult to conceive how he could in fo few years furnish fo many admirable pieces.

Louis XIV. predicted that Mo. liere would give luftre to his reign. He was his conftant protector and fupport. He defended him against devotees, physicians, and fops. But for the firmnefs of Louis XIV. the Tartuffe would never have appeared on the ftage.

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The Tartuffe is without difpute the fublimeft work that ever came from the hands of man. The tears ftart from my eyes when I think of Moliere's reply to Defpreaux, who congratulated him on this play: "C Patience, my friend, fhall one day fee fomething much fuperior." He died fix years after, and his occupations as a comedian and manager of the company prevented his fulfilling his intention. It is supposed that he referred to L'Homme de Cour, a fubject which engaged his attention till his death, but of which no fragment could be found among his papers. What a lofs for the dramatic art! And who will dare attempt a character which Moliere himself placed above his Tartuffe. I am alinoft tempted to reproach the memory of Louis XIV. for not freeing Moliere from the cares which, neceffary to his fortune, hindered the exertions of his genius.

Moliere derived from the Ancients fome of his works, and it was giving them new life; but he borrowed from no source but his mind the Misantrope, Tartuffe, and Les Femmes Savantes.

He had the fate of thofe who are' born with a too fufceptible heart, he loved more than he was loved, and the bitterness of jealousy defeated his fuccefs, and accelerated his death. He found, however, in friendship the confolations which a more tender fentiment refused him. Defpreaux, Cha

pelle,

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