"The Dance is the spur of lust—a circle of which the Devil himself is the centre. Many women that use it have come dishonest home, most indifferent, none better."—Petrarch.

ut," says the worthy reader who has honored me by perusing the preceding Chapter, "what manner of disgusting revel is this that you have shown us? Have we been present at a reproduction of the rites of Dionysus and Astarte? Have we held high revel in the halls of a modern Faustina or Messalina? Have we supped with Catherine of Russia? Or have we been under the influence of a restored Lampsacene?

Don't delude yourself, my unsophisticated friend, you have simply been present at a "social hop" at the house of the Hon. Ducat Fitzbullion—a most estimable and "solid" citizen, a deacon of the church, where his family regularly attend, a great promoter of charities, Magdalen Asylums, and the like, and President of the "Society for the Suppression of Immorality among the Hottentots." The fair women whom you have somewhat naturally mistaken for prÊtresses de la Vagabonde VÉnus, are the pure daughters and spotless wives of our "best citizens;" their male companions, or accomplices, or whatever you choose to call them, are the creme de la creme of all that is respectable and eligible in society; and, finally, the dance which you have pronounced outrageously indecent, is simply the Divine Waltz, in its various shapes of "Dip," "Glide," "Saratoga," "German," and what not—the King of Dances "with all the modern improvements."

And this, my dear reader, is the abomination that I intend to smite hip and thigh—not with fine words and dainty phrases, but with the homely language of truth; not blinded by prejudice or passion, but calmly and reasonably; not with any private purpose to subserve, but simply in the cause of common decency; not with the hope of working out any great moral reform, but having the the sense of duty strong upon me as I stick my nibbed lancet into the most hideous social ulcer that has yet afflicted the body corporate.

That the subject is a delicate one is best shown by the fact that even Byron found himself reduced to the necessity of "Putting out the light" and invoking the longest garments to cover that which he was unable to describe—hear him:

"Waltz—Waltz alone—both legs and arms demands;

Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands;

'Hands which may freely range in public sight

Where ne'er before—but—pray "put out the light.'

* * * *

"But here the muse with due decorum halts—

And lends her longest petticoats to Waltz"

It should not, then, be a matter of surprise, when one so gifted in the use of his mother tongue and writing in a far less prudish age, failed to describe the "voluptuous Waltz" without shocking his readers,—if I, sixty-three years later, with so much more to describe and such limited capacity, do not succeed in rendering the subject less repulsive.

Many will urge that a practice indulged in by the "best people" of every country—seemingly tolerated by all—cannot be so violently assailed without some motive other than a disinterested desire to advocate a correct principle—but such are reminded that much more than one-half the male adult population of every American city are addicted to the use of tobacco. Is its baneful effect upon the nerves of man any the less severe on this account? So in the case of alcoholic beverages, is it open to debate that the great mass of our population are constantly consuming this "wet damnation"? And is it not known to all that it is the direct source of desolation to hearth and home, the destroyer of happiness and character,—that this has broken more hearts, filled more dishonored graves than any other of man's follies? Does, I say, the fact of its universality render its destroying influence less potent? I think not. Neither do I believe the fact of society permitting itself to be carried by storm into the toleration of the "modern" dance, obliterates the fearful vortex into which its members are drawn, or compensates for the irreparable loss it suffers in the degradation of its chief ornament—woman.

And here is one great difficulty in my self-imposed task, for to lovely and pure woman must I partly address myself. Yet even a partial reference to the various considerations involved, entails the presenting of topics not generally admitted into refined conversation. But in order to do any justice at all to the subject, we must not only consider the dance itself, but we must follow it to its conclusion. We must look at its direct results. We must hold it responsible for the vice it encourages, the lasciviousness of which it so largely partakes. And in presenting this subject, I shall steadfastly ignore that line of argument based upon the assumption that because "it is general," it must be proper. Says Rochester:—

"Custom does often reason overrule,

And only serves for reason to the fool."

And Crabbe:—

"Habit with him was all the test of truth:

It must be right—I've done it from my youth."

No, neither the use of tobacco, the indulgence in alcoholic beverages, nor the familiar posturing of the "Glide" can be justified or defended by proving that they are common to all classes of society.

I repeat that the scene I have attempted to describe in the foregoing chapter is no creation of a prurient imagination—would to God that it were—but is a scene that is enacted at every social entertainment which in these days is regarded by the class for whose benefit this work is written as worth the trouble of attending. I repeat that the female portion of the "class" referred to is not composed of what are commonly known as prostitutes, whatever the uninitiated spectator at their orgies may imagine, but of matrons who are held spotless, and of maidens who are counted pure—not only by the world in general, but by those husbands, fathers, and brothers, whose eyes should surely be the first to detect any taint upon the character of wife, daughter, or sister. And I repeat, moreover, that the social status of these people is not that of the rude peasant whose lewd pranks are the result of his ignorance, but that of the most highly cultivated and refined among us. These are the people who are expected to, and do, lead the world in all that is elegant and desirable; and the Waltz, forsooth, is one of their arts—one of the choice products of their ultra-civilization—brought to perfection by the grace with which God has gifted them above common folk, adorned by their wealth, and enjoyed by their high-strung sensibilities. The boor could not dance as they do though he were willing to give his immortal soul to possess the accomplishment, for the waltz, in its perfection, is a pleasure reserved for the social pantheon.

Said one to me, stooping forward in the most confidential way "Do you see that young lady to the left? How exquisitely the closely drawn silk discloses her wasp-like form! and those motions—could anything be more suggestive? Every movement of her body is a perfect reproduction of Hogarth's line of beauty. Look man! Remove just a little drapery and there is nothing left to desire—is'nt it wonderful? But then," added he, "it is a perfect outrage nevertheless."

Not so, I answered. Can aught be said against her reputation? no!—a thousand times no—and as for her dress, is it not the perfection of what all others in the room are but a crude attempt to accomplish? Does it not disclose a form intrinsically beautiful, and admit of a grace and "poetry of motion" quite unknown to those encumbered with petticoats? Yes, look at her backward and forward movements—see how she entwines her lithe limbs with those of her enraptured partner as they oscillate, advance, recede, and rotate, as though they were "spitted on the same bodkin."

"Thus front to front the partners move or stand,

The foot may rest, but none withdraw the hand."

This, sir, is but one of the many improvements on the waltz.

And pray, sir, are not this lady to the right and that one in the center, vainly endeavoring to achieve the same feat? The only difference is that this lady is better dressed, more ably taught than either; is she to be censured because she has the talent and industry to do well, that which they have neither the courage, energy, nor ability to perform?

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