in 'Blackwood,' which, to those who may never hope to see in any circus anything so inspiring, so full of an imaginative glamour, may give some idea of the nightly scenes in the halcyon days of Astley's:--
"We delight to see, at never-failing Astley's, the revived glories of British prowess--Wellington in the midst of his staff, smiling benignantly on the facetious pleasantries of a Fitzroy?Somerset--Sergeant M'Craw of the Forty-Second delighting the _elite_ of Brussels by the performance of the reel of Tullochgorum at the Duchess of Richmond's ball--the charge of the Scots Greys--the single-handed combat of Marshal Ney and the infuriated Life-Guardsman Shaw--and the final retreat of Napoleon amidst a volley of Roman candles and the flames of an arsenicated Hougomont. Nor is our gratification less to discern, after the subsiding of the showers of sawdust so gracefully scattered by that groom in the doeskin integuments, the stately form of Widdicomb, cased in martial apparel, advancing towards the centre of the ring, and commanding--with imperious gesture, and some slight flagellation in return for dubious compliment--the double-jointed clown to assist the Signora Cavalcanti to her seat upon the celebrated Arabian. How lovely looks the lady, as she vaults to her feet upon the breadth of the yielding saddle! With what inimitable grace does she whirl these tiny banners around her head, as winningly as a Titania performing the sword exercise! How coyly does she dispose her garments and floating drapery to hide the too-maddening symmetry of her limbs! Gods! She is transformed all at once into an Amazon--the fawn-like timidity of her first demeanour is gone. Bold and beautiful flushes her cheek with animated crimson--her full voluptuous lip is more compressed and firm--the deep passion of the huntress flashing in her lustrous eyes! Widdicomb becomes excited--he moves with quicker step around the periphery of his central circle--incessant is the smacking of his whip--not this time directed against Mr Merriman, who at his ease is enjoying a swim upon the sawdust--and lo! the grooms rush in, six bars are elevated in a trice, and over them all bounds the volatile Signora like a panther, nor pauses until with airy somersets she has passed twice through the purgatory of the blazing hoop, and then, drooping and exhausted, sinks like a Sabine into the arms of the Herculean master, who--a second Romulus--bears away his lovely burden to the stables, amid such a whirlwind of applause as Kemble might have been proud to earn."
Astley's has long been levelled with the dust; it is many years since Widdicomb, Gomersal, Ducrow, and the Woolford passed into the Silent Land. May their memory be preserved for yet a few years to come in the mirthful strains of two of their most ardent and grateful admirers!
Of the longer poems in this volume the following were exclusively Aytoun's: "The Broken Pitcher," "The Massacre of the Macpherson," "The Rhyme of Sir Launcelot Bogle," "Little John and the Red Friar," "A Midnight Meditation," and that admirable imitation of the Scottish ballad, "The Queen in France." Some of the shorter poems were also his--"The Lay of the Levite," "Tarquin and the Augur," "La Mort d'Arthur," "The Husband's Petition," and the "Sonnet to Britain." The rest were either wholly mine or produced by us jointly.
After 1844 the Bon Gaultier co-operation ceased. My profession and removal from Edinburgh to London left no leisure or opportunity for work of that kind, and Aytoun became busy with the Professorship of Belles Lettres in the University and with his work at the Bar and on 'Blackwood's Magazine.' We had also during the Bon Gaultier period worked together in a series of translations of Goethe's Poems and Ballads for 'Blackwood's Magazine,' which, like the Bon Gaultier Ballads, were collected, added to, and published in a volume a year or two afterwards. In 1845 I left Edinburgh for London, and only met Aytoun at intervals there or at Homburg in the future years; but our friendship was kept alive by active correspondence. Literature was naturally his vocation, and he wrote much and well, with exemplary industry, enlivening his papers in 'Blackwood,' till his death in August 1865, with the same manly sense, the same playfulness of fancy and flow of spontaneous humour, which made his society and his letters always delightful to his friends.
"Multis ille bonis flebilis occidit,?Nulli flebilior quam mihi!"
The first edition of this book, now very rare, appeared in 1845. It was illustrated by Alfred Henry Forrester (Alfred Crowquill). In the subsequent editions drawings by Richard Doyle and John Leech, in a kindred spirit of fanciful extravagance, were added, and helped materially towards the attractions of the volume. Its popularity surpassed the utmost expectations of the authors. To them not the least pleasant feature of its success was that it was widely read both in the Navy and the
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