To the second class that I have mentioned, namely, those who know and deny what they know, a far stronger condemnation is to be applied. It is composed of the dancers par excellence, both male and female — who have tasted of the unholy pleasures of the waltz until it has become the very sap of their lives. These are the blushing rakes and ogling prudes who will be most bitter in their denunciation of this book and its author; and no wonder — I only oppose the prejudices of the others, but I contend with the passions of these. These it is who are forever prating of the beauties and virtues of the waltz. It is an “innocent recreation,” a “healthful exercise,” it is the “mother of grace” and the “poetry of motion;” no eulogy can be too extravagant for them to bestow upon their idol. They see no harm in it, not they, and for those who dare hint at such a thing, they have ever ready at their tongue’s end that most convenient and abused of legends: Honi soit qui mal y pense. They will catch at any straw to defend their pet amusement. They will tell you that The Preacher says “there is a time to dance,” without stopping to inquire why that ancient cynic put the words “there is a time to mourn” in such close proximity. They will inform you that Plato, in his Commonwealth, will have dancing-schools to be maintained, “that young folks may meet, be acquainted, see one another, and be seen,” but they forget to mention that he will also have them dance naked, or to quote the comments of Eusebius and Theodoret upon Plato’s plan. They think the secret of their great respect for the waltz is possessed only by themselves, and hug the belief that by them that secret shall never be divulged. Bah! They must dance with the gas out if there is to be any secrecy in the matter Innocent and healthful recreation forsooth! The grotesque abominations of the old Phallic worship had, a basis of clean and wholesome truth, but as the obscene rites of that worship desecrated the principle that inspired them, so do the pranks of the “divine waltz” libel the impulse that stirs its wriggling devotees. The fire that riots in their veins and the motive that actuates their haunches is an honest flame and a decent energy when honestly and decently invoked, but if blood and muscle would be pleased to indulge their impotent raptures in private, the warmer virtues would not be subjected to open caricature, nor the colder to downright outrage What do I mean by such insinuations? Nay, then, gentle reader, I will not insinuate, but will boldly state that with the class with which I am now dealing — the dancers par excellence, the modem waltz is not merely “suggestive,” as its opponents have hitherto charitably styled it, but an open and shameless gratification of sexual desire and a cooler of burning lust To lookers-on it is “suggestive” enough, Heaven knows, but to the dancers — that is to say, to the “perfect dancers”; — it is an actual realization of a certain physical ecstacy which should at least, be indulged in private and no pure person should experience save under the sanction of matrimony.
And this is the secret to which I have alluded. It cannot even be claimed as private property any longer.
“For shame!” cries the horrified (and non-waltzing) reader; “how can you make such dreadfully false assertions! And who are these ‘perfect danders’ you talk so much about? And how came you to know their ‘secret’ as you term it? Surely no woman of even nominal decency would make such a horrible confession, and yet the most immaculate women waltz, and waltz divinely!”
By your leave, I will answer these questions one at a time. Who are these “perfect waltzers?” Of the male sex there are several types, of which I need only mention two.
The first is your lively and handsome young man — a Hercules in brawn and muscle — who exults in his strength and glories in his manhood. Dancing comes naturally to him, as does everything else that requires grace and skill. He is a ruthless hunter to whom all game is fair. The gods have made him beautiful and strong, and the other sex recognize and appreciate the fact. Is it to be expected of Alcibiades that he scorn the Athenian lasses, or of Phaon the Fair that he avoid the damsels of Mytelene? No indeed! it is for the husband and father to take care of the women — he can take care of himself. Yet even this gay social pirate and his like might take a hint from the poet:
“But ye — who never felt a single thought
For what our morals are to be, or ought;
Who wisely wish the charms you view to reap,
Say — would you make three beauties quite so cheap?”
But this fine animal is by no means the most common or degraded type of ball-room humanity. It would be perhaps better it he were. In his mighty embrace a woman would at least have the satisfaction of knowing that she was dancing with a wholesome creature, however destitute he might be of the finer feelings that go to make up what is called a man.
No, the most common type of the male “perfect dancer” is of a different stamp. This is the blockhead who covers his brains with his boots — to whom dancing is the one serious practical employment of life, and who, it must be confessed, is most diligent and painstaking in his profession. He is chastity’s paramour — strong and lusty in the presence of the unattainable, feeble-kneed and trembling in the glance of invitation; in pursuit a god, in possession an incapable — satyr of dalliance, eunuch of opportunity. This creature dances divinely. He has given his mind to dancing, has never got it back, and is the richer for that He haunts “hops” and balls because his ailing virility finds a feast in the paps and gruels of love there dispensed. It is he to whose contaminating embrace your wi — I mean your neighbor’s wife or daughter, dear reader, is oftenest surrendered, to whet his dulled appetite for strong meats of the bagnio — nay to coach him for offences that must be nameless here. She performs her function thoroughly, conscientiously, wholly — merges her identity in his, and lo! the Beast with two Backs!
A pretty picture is it not? — the Grand Passion Preservative dragged into the blaze of gas to suffer pious indignities at the hand of worshippers who worship not wisely, but too well! The true Phallos set up at a cross-roads to receive the homage of strolling dogs — male and female created he them! Bah! these orgies are the spawn of unmannerly morals. They profane our civilization, and are an indecent assault upon common sense. It is nearly as common as the dance itself, to hear the male participants give free expression, loose tongued, to the lewd emotions, the sensual pleasure, in which they indulge when locked in the embrace of your wives and daughters; if this be true, if by any possibility it can be true, that a lady however innocent in thought is exposed to lecherous comments of this description, then is it not also true that every woman possessing a remnant of delicacy, will flee from the dancing-hall as from a pestilence.
CHAPTER IV.
“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!”
Let 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 piéce 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 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 friends 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 marvelous 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.
CHAPTER V.
“Where lives the man that hath not tried
How mirth can into folly glide,
And folly into sin!”
SCOTT.
THE conversation I have given in the last chapter is faithfully reported — it is exact in spirit very nearly so in letter; we may surely believe that the clergyman from whom I have quoted some pages back, was honest in his statements, and I think that there can be no man who has mixed among his sex in the ballroom and not heard similar remarks made. All this is, it seems to me, ample proof of the fact which I set out to demonstrate, namely, that the lechery of the waltz is not confined to the males, but is consciously participated in by the females, and if further evidence be needed, then, I say, take the best of all — watch the dancers at their sport — mark well the faces, the contortions of body and limb, and be convinced against your will. But even over and beyond this, I shall now lay before you a kind of testimony which you will be surprised to find brought to bear on the case.
Shortly after I had determined to publish a protest against the abominations of the waltz, it became plainly apparent to me that I must if possible obtain the views on the subject of some intelligent and well known lady, whose opinion would be received with respect by all the world. With this end in view, I addressed one of the most eminent and renowned women of America. I could not foretell the result of such a step, I certainly did not expect it to be what it is, I hardly dared to hope that she would accede to my request in any shape. But I knew that if she did speak, it would be according to her honest convictions, and I resolved in that event to publish her statement whatever it might be. This lady freely and generously offered me the use of her name, and as this would be of great value to my undertaking, I had originally intended to print it; but upon consideration I have concluded that it would be a poor return for her kindness and self-devotion, to subject her to the fiery ordeal of criticism she would in that case have to endure, and for this reason, and this only, I withhold her name for the present. But I do earnestly assure the reader that i
f ever the words of a great and good woman deserved respectful attention, it is these:—”You ask me to say what I think about ‘round dances.’ I am glad of the opportunity to lay my opinion on that subject before the world; though, indeed I scarcely know what I can write which you have not probably already written. I will, however, venture to lay bare a young girl’s heart and mind by giving you my own experience in the days when I waltzed.
“In those times. I cared little for Polka or Varsovienne, and still less for the old-fashioned ‘Money Musk’ or ‘Virginia Reel,’ and wondered what people could find to admire in those ‘slow dances.’ But in the soft floating of the waltz I found a strange pleasure, rather difficult to intelligibly describe. The mere anticipation fluttered my pulse, and when my partner approached to claim my promised hand for the dance I felt my cheeks glow a little sometimes, and I could not look him in the eyes with the same frank gaiety as heretofore.
“But the climax of my confusion was reached when, folded in his warm embrace, and giddy with the whirl, a strange, sweet thrill would shake me from head to foot, leaving me weak and almost powerless and really almost obliged to depend for support upon the arm which encircled me. If my partner failed from ignorance, lack of skill, or innocence, to arouse these, to me, most pleasurable sensations, I did not dance with him the second time.
“I am speaking openly and frankly, and when I say that I did not understand what I felt, or what were the real and greatest pleasures I derived from this so-called dancing, I expect to be believed. But if my cheeks grew red with uncomprehended pleasure then, they grow pale with shame to-day when I think of it all. It was the physical emotions engendered by the magnetic contact of strong men that I was enamoured of — not of the dance, nor even of the men themselves.
Complete Works of Ambrose Bierce (Delphi Classics) Page 3