Recently BoingBoing linked to an amazing book from 1892...
from From the Ball-Room to Hell. It was written by T.A. Faulkner, "former owner of the Los Angeles Dancing Academy and ex-President of Dancing Masters' Association of the Pacific Coast". It warns well-meaning Christians of the dangers of allowing their daughters into the dancing academy or ball-room.
The work, available for free download in a variety of electronic formats (or click on the relatively hidden "Read online") has beautiful snippets such as these:
"But," some mothers say, "I know that I can trust my daughter. The waltz may be the means of leading astray some shallow, low-minded girls, and may arouse the lower nature of some of those whose lower nature lies very near the surface, but such girls would go astray anyway. My daughter is a pure, high-minded girl, and I am sure she is trustworthy."Oh the danger of the waltz! Who knew? And then, after the sad deed is done...
"Better!" she cries, bursting into tears. "Better!! What is life to me now that you have robbed me of my virtue? Oh! that I should have sunken into such depths of sin, and that you, vile man, whom I trusted, should have led me to it."It seems odd to be that "virtue" is a euphemism for "virginity".
But far and the best passage is from the dance floor itself, written with such loving attention to detail that it almost makes you wonder what was on the author's mind...
She is now in the vile embrace of the Apollo of the evening. Her head rests upon his shoulder, her face is upturned to his, her bare arm is almost around his neck, her partly nude swelling breast heaves tumultuously against his, face to face they whirl on, his limbs interwoven with hers, his strong right arm around her yielding form, he presses her to him until every curve in the contour of her body thrills with the amorous contact. Her eyes look into his, but she sees nothing; the soft music fills the room, but she hears it not; he bends her body to and fro, but she knows it not; his hot breath, tainted with strong drink, is on her hair and cheek, his lips almost touch her forehead, yet she does not shrink; his eyes, gleaming with a fierce, intolerable lust, gloat over her, yet she does not quail. She is filled with the rapture of sin in its intensity; her spirit is inflamed with passion and lust is gratified in thought. With a last low wail the music ceases, and the dance for the night is ended, but not the evil work of the night.Terrific! It reminds me of that old joke, Why don't Baptists have sex standing up? It might lead to dancing!
The girl whose blood is hot from the exertion and whose every carnal sense is aroused and aflame by the repetition of such scenes as we have witnessed, is led to the ever-waiting carriage, where she sinks exhausted on the cushioned seat. Oh, if I could picture to you the fiendish look that comes into his eyes as he sees his helpless victim before him. Now is his golden opportunity. He must not miss it, and he does not, and that beautiful girl who entered the dancing school as pure and innocent as an angel three months ago returns to her home that night robbed of that most precious jewel of womanhood--virtue!
