Men are energetic windmill dancers

Saturday, 17 October 2009 05:00

October 17, 1864. Men are inclined to dance like dislocated windmills, according to this item in the Red River (Fort Garry) Nor'-Wester.

It is impossible to frequent balls at the present day without being painfully conscious that as regards men—we make no allusion to the ladies—dancing is a forgotten art; at least so far as a thing may be described as forgotten which has never been learned. If it were not melancholy it would be ludicrous. No matter what the dance is, there is equal ignorance of all.

A quadrille is walked through generally like an awkward funeral; but it is in waltzing that the young man of the present day particularly distinguishes himself. Where he obtained the idea of that performance it is difficult to imagine.

What does it consist of? He first selects a partner; and having, as usual, examined the buttons on his gloves, and pulled them on tight, as a man fixes his hat on his head when he goes at a stiff fence, he encircles the lovely waist; and then—well, what then?

He certainly does not dance—because he does not know how. But often working his arm like a pump-handle, and assuming the appearance of a dislocated wind-mill he begins with a kind of uneven, jerky motion to pull the young lady round in what he conceives to be time to the music. Utterly regardless of what obstacles are in the way he spins on, at one time knocking a weaker and lighter couple altogether out of the arena; at another, dashing his partner or himself with the utmost determination against the surrounding crowd, pushes his elbow into some one else's face or ribs, catches his toe in some one's dress, and very often, having done as much damage as he can during his progress, winds up by stopping dead short in the circle, and there makes himself as inconvenient in his last moment as he has been ridiculous during his career.