There was a tribunal once in France, as you may remember, called the
_Chambre Ardente_, the Burning Chamber. It was hung all round with
lamps, and hence its name. The burning chamber for the trial of young
maidens is the blazing ballroom. What have they full-dressed you, or
rather half-dressed you for, do you think? To make you look pretty, of
course!--Why have they hung a chandelier above you, flickering all over
with flames, so that it searches you like the noonday sun, and your
deepest dimple cannot hold a shadow? To give brilliancy to the gay
scene, no doubt!--No, my dear! Society is _inspecting_ you, and it
finds undisguised surfaces and strong lights a convenience in the
process. The dance answers the purpose of the revolving pedestal upon
which the "White Captive" turns, to show us the soft, kneaded marble,
which looks as if it had never been hard, in all its manifold aspects
of living loveliness. No mercy for you, my love! Justice, strict
justice, you shall certainly have,--neither more nor less. For, look
you, there are dozens, scores, hundreds, with whom you must be weighed
in the balance; and you have got to learn that the "struggle for life"
Mr.
Pages:
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264
265
266
267
268
269
270
271