```"What! the girl that I love by another embraced!
```Another man's arm round my chosen one's waist!
```What! touched in the twirl by another man's knee;
```And panting recline on another than me!
```Sir, she's yours; you have brushed from the grape its soft blue,
```From the rose you have shaken the delicate dew;
```What you've touched you may take--pretty Waltzer, adieu!"=
[Illustration: 9062]
et us now consider the female element in this immodesty. Is the woman
equally to blame with the man? Is she the unconscious instrument of his
lust, or the conscious sharer in it? We shall see.
In the first place, it is absolutely necessary that she shall be able
and willing to reciprocate the feelings of her partner before she can
graduate as a "divine dancer." Until she can and will do this she is
regarded as a "scrub" by the male experts, and no matter what her own
opinion of her proficiency may be she will surely not be sought as
a companion in that _piece de résistance_ of the ball-room the
"after--supper glide."
Horrible as this statement seems, it is the truth and nothing but the
truth, and though I could affirm it upon oath from what I have myself
heard and seen, I fortunately am able to confirm it by the words of a
highly respected minister of the gospel--Mr. W. C. Wilkinson, who some
years ago published in book form an article on "The Dance of Modern
Society," which originally appeared in one of our American Quarterly
Reviews.
This gentleman gives a remark overheard on a railway car, in a
conversation that was passing between two young men about their lady
acquaintances.
"The horrible concreteness of the fellow's expression," says Mr.
Wilkinson, "may give a wholesome recoil from danger to some minds that
would be little affected by a speculative statement of the same idea.
Said one: I would not give a straw to dance with Miss --------; you
can't excite any more passion in her than you can in a stick of wood."
Can anything be plainer than this.
"Pure young women of a warmer temperament," the same reverend author
subsequently adds, "who innocently abandon themselves to enthusiastic
proclamations of their delight in the dance in the presence of
gentlemen, should but barely once have a male intuition of the _meaning_
of the involuntary glance that will often shoot across from eye to eye
among their auditors. Or should overhear the comments exchanged among
them afterwards. For when young men meet after an evening of the dance
to talk it over together, it is not points of dress they discuss. Their
only demand (in this particular) and it is generally conceded, is that
the ladies' dress and shall not needlessly embarrass suggestion."
But here is one of my own experiences in this connection. At a
fashionable sociable, I was approached by a friend who had been
excelling himself in Terpsichorean feats during the whole evening. This
friend was a very handsome man, a magnificent dancer, and of course a
great favorite with the ladies. I had been watching him while he waltzed
with a young and beautiful lady, also of my acquaintance, and had been
filled with wonder at the way he had folded her in his arms--literally
fondling her upon his breast, and blending her delicate melting form
into his ample embrace in a manner that was marvellous to behold. They
had whirled and writhed in a corner for fully ten minutes--the fury
of lust in his eyes, the languor of lust in hers--until gradually she
seemed to lose her senses entirely, and must have slipped down upon the
floor when he finally released her from his embrace had it not been for
the support of his arm and shoulder. Now as he came up to me all flushed
and triumphant I remarked to him that he evidently enjoyed this thing
very much.
"Of course I do," he answered. "Why not?"
"But I should think," said I, not wishing to let him see that I knew
anything about the matter from experience, "that your passions would
become unduly excited by such extremely close contact with the other
sex."
"Excited!" he replied, "of course they do; but not unduly--what else do
you suppose I come here for? And don't you know, old fellow," he added
in a burst of confidence, "that this waltzing is the grandest thing in
the world. While you are whirling one of those charmers--if you do it
properly, mind you--you can whisper in her ear things which she would
not listen to at any other time. Ah! but she likes it then, and comes
closer still, and in response to the pressure of her hand, your arm
tightens about her waist, and then"--but here he grew very eloquent at
the bare remembrance, and the morals of the printer must be respected.
"But," said I, "I should be afraid to take such liberties with a
respectable woman."
"O," he answered, "that's nothing--they like it; but, as I said before,
you must know how to do it; there must be no blundering; they wont stand
that. The best place to learn to do the thing correctly is in one of
those dance-cellars; there you can take right hold of them. The
girls there are "posted," you know; and they'll soon "post" you. Let
everything go loose. You will soon fall into the step. All else comes
natural. I go round amongst them all. Come with me a few nights, I'll
soon make a waltzer of you--you will see what there is in it." He still
rests under the promise to "show me round" in the interests of the
diffusion of useful knowledge; and if he does not trace the authorship
of this book to me, and take offence thereat, I will go at some future
time. It must indeed be "jolly," as he called it, to possess such
consumate skill in an art which makes the wives and daughters of our
"best people" the willing instruments of his lechery. Oh yes--I _must
learn_. This is a supreme accomplishment I cannot afford to be without.
It has been said that out of evil comes good, and assuredly "this is an
evil born with all its teeth."
"Ah, yes," continued my enthusiastic friend, "it isn't the whirling that
makes the waltz, and those who think it is are the poorest dancers. A
little judicious handling will make a sylph out of the veriest gawk of
a girl that ever attempted the "light' fantastic;" and once manage to
initiate one of those stay-at-home young ladies, and I'll warrant you
she'll be on hand at every ball she is invited to for the rest of that
season. I'll wager, sir, that there isn't a "scrub" in this room who
just knows the step but what I can make a dancer of her in fifteen
minutes--the dear creatures take to it naturally when they are properly
taught. But don't forget to come with me to the 'dives' one of these
evenings and I'll show you what there is in it." And this was the
estimation in which this man held the ladies of his acquaintance: this
is the kind of satyr to the quenching of whose filthy lusts we are to
furnish our wives and daughters; this is the manner of Minotaur who must
be fed upon comely virgins--may he recognize a Theseus in these pages!
And yet, dear reader, do not imagine that this man was a social ogre
of unusual monstrosity. No, indeed, he was, and is, a "very nice young
man;" he is, in fact, commonly regarded as a model young man. Nor must
you imagine that his partner had a single stain upon her reputation.
She is a young lady of the highest respectability; she takes a great
interest in Sunday schools, is regular at the communion-table, makes
flannel waistcoats for the heathen, and is on all sides allowed to be
the greatest catch of the season in the matrimonial market. If she and
the young man in question meet in the street, a modest bow on her part,
and a respectful lifting of the hat on his, are the only greetings
interchanged--he may enjoy her body in the ball-room, but, you see, he
is not well enough acquainted with her to take her hand on the street.
[Illustration: 5071]
[Illustration: 0072]