423 Monthly Review of Literature. 



was indeed that poetry of motion, that inspiration of look and gesture (terms 

 idly applied in these later days to the performances of the hired artist), called 

 into play by the agency of the dance, and giving to that light and graceful 

 pastime its highest and most imaginative character. In him the dance was 

 not a medium for the display of brilliant and faultless execution of paces, an4 

 flourishing of limb. His action, his impersonation, we might almost say, of 

 the melody by which his movements were guided, was fanciful, inspiriting, 

 harmonious, as the melody itself. We question whether the pyrrhic, or 

 enoplian dance of old, or hyporchematic measure (that exquisite admixture of 

 motion and music, of lute and footstep) was ever executed with more fervour 

 and inspiration, or produced more thrilling effects upon the beholders, than 

 Crichton's performances. The same ease, the same unconscious grace, which' 

 accompanied his demeanour on the parade, followed him in the volte, the 

 bransle, or the pazzameno. In each, were the various involutions required 

 preserved ; but, change the figure as often as he might, one expression per- 

 vaded all in that expression, unattainable by other aspirants, resided hia 

 superiority. 



' Whether upon the present occasion Crichton felt inspired by the presence 

 and acclamations of the vast assemblage, the gaze of which he felt was fixed 

 upon his efforts, or whether he was resolved to show how inexhaustible were 

 his energies, we know not ; but he appeared to surpass himself. Such was 

 the springy lightness with which he bounded through the rapid Navarroise 

 (a species of waltz peculiar to the pleasant land from which it derived its 

 name), that his foot scarcely seemed to touch the floor, or, if it did alight upon 

 it, it was only as Antaeus acquired fresh vigour from his mother earth, to gain 

 elasticity from the momentary contact. A movement so rapid and whirling 

 as to have turned the heads of any less practised than the admirable Scot and 

 his royal partner, brought the dance to a spirited and striking conclusion. 



' All etiquette was forgotten. An irrepressible excitement took possession 

 of the spectators, vivats and bravos resounded on all sides, the burnished roof 

 of the grand saloon re-echoed with the plaudits ; and the effect produced upon 

 the courtly throng by the brilliant achievements of the distinguished couple, 

 seemed to be precisely similar to that which results from the most electrifying 

 effects of the divinities of the ballet. 



' Never had Marguerite appeared so animated ; even her dames of honour 

 were surprised at her unusual elation. 



" Mon-dieu ! I have never seen her majesty execute that dance with so 

 much spirit since I first beheld it," said La Fosseuse, " when her partner was 

 Henri of Navarre, and the occasion her own espousal." 



" Her majesty has all the air of a bride now," returned La Rebours, pen- 

 sively. This fair demoiselle, whom Marguerite in her memoirs terms " une 

 fille malicieuse, qui ne m'aimoit pas," became shortly afterwards the chief fa- 

 vourite of Henri of Navarre. It might be presentiment. 



" Poh !" replied La Torigni, " I remember the night La Fosseuse speaks of 

 well ; by my reputation I have reason to do so. Henri of Navarre was a 

 mere lump of rusty armour compared with the chevalier Crichton, who vaults 

 in the dance as if he had stolen the wings of Icarus.- Nor does Madame 

 Marguerite appear insensible to the change. She look like a bride ! ma foi, 

 you ought to know better, Demoiselle Rebours : even if she have it not, your 

 bride is sure to affect a bashfulness, and you cannot lay any excess of that 

 sort to Madame Marguerite's charge at the present moment." 



"Why no," replied La Rebours, "not exactly ; but Henri makes a charm- 

 ing partner." 



"As to the spirit with which she dances," continued the sprightly Torigni, 

 " her nuptial ball was nothing to it. But what say you ? you recollect that 

 night, I dare say, Seigneur Abbe de Brantome." 



"Perfectly/' replied Brantome, with a significant glance, "then it was 

 Mars, now Apollo and Verms are in conjunction." 



