# Creole Sketches/Eleusis

ELEUSIS
Cool, soft light broken by curtains of lace; antiquated and elegant upholstery; a four-columned Creole bed, generously wide and lofty, its lace-fringed pillows embroidered with a rosy monogram; matting checkered in light colors; a bronze clock bearing the nude figure of Ariadne riding upon her loving panther; a glimmer of satin flung carelessly over fauteuils and sofas; a mysterious perfume of woman; a sense of some one absent, and a consciousness of wicked intrusion on the part of the writer — feelings intensified by the merciless ticking of the French clock: — this was Eleusis!
And the Mysteries?
Ah! the pretty mysteries; the dainty, soft, delicate, fragile, feminine mysteries! ​Fairy gauze and butterfly-satin, and moth-velvet and foamy lace and frosted silk, and that white samite — mystic, wonderful — which invites the hand to touch it with a timid caress, and the name whereof is only known to Woman; — and over all a hovering perfume — the perfume of youth, the odor of all that is sweet and feminine, the ambrosia that haunts the presence of Loveliness and clings to her robes — the frankincense of the Shulamitess!
This was the shadowy nook where the human butterfly nightly prepared to issue from her pallid chrysalis; the chamber where the pretty witch spun her web of magical gold.
"My thread is slim, my thread is fine, But he must be A stronger than thee Who can break this thread of mine."
And the reader murmureth, perchance, ​that he is yet no wiser than he was before.
Behold! the mystery into which we would initiate thee, O reader, is a mystery of bayadères, a mystery of dancing girls "robed only in a fleecy cloud of veils," that mystery of the daughter of Herodias which made the king swear a great oath that he should give her all that she desired, even unto the half of his kingdom.
When thou beholdest the dancing girl coming forth to dance before the bow-curving line of lights; — when thou beholdest her poised in air, shimmering in foamy laces and creamy satin like some splendid insect; — when thine eyes are dazzled by the witchery of her feet so that thou even wishest to be a Herod that thou mightest offer her, not the half, but in sooth the whole of thy kingdom — dost thou not often marvel at the mysteries of ​her garb? — enticing only to deceive coquettishly — seemingly light as a Coæ vesta or a ventus textilis such as Egyptian dancers wore, yet faithfully guarding its secrets — thin as a dragonfly's wings, yet subtle enough to withstand the long strain of a pas de séduction? Let us, then, abandon the romance of idealism and descend to the level prose of explanation.
In dressing for the ballet, the fair dancer must disrobe as completely as for the bath. A thin and very short chemise is the first article put on. It is peculiarly shaped, cut low, and has pieces to support it from the shoulders. Then the ordinary corset is put on. Then come the tights.
The tights are of flesh-colored silk, and all in one piece. They take the place of stockings and drawers, and are brought up over the hips and fastened with soft but strong tape above the waist and even over ​the corset. The whole body up to the bosom is gloved in them. If nicely adjusted, and not too often worn, their own elasticity keeps them from wrinkling.
Over the tights a pair of muslin drawers are worn, about as narrow and short as a boy's bathing-drawers. These are of gossamer lightness, but exceedingly white. They are worn for moral reasons.
Over the drawers are six of the lightest petticoats of tulle or tarlatan, whereof it is possible to conceive. These are all attached together at the waistband, so as to form but one piece. Light as they are, their number and starchiness enable them to preserve the graceful shape which gives the ballet dancer the appearance of some beautiful white fly.
Over the six petticoats a seventh, often equally light, but of much more brilliant material, is worn. Sometimes it is decked with flowers, sometimes fringed with lace; ​sometimes it is white; sometimes it is pink, scarlet, purple, or other color, according to the character of the drama. In Spanish or Italian dances it is very brilliant.
A corset of soft white satin is next put on over the tights and under-corset. Over this is worn a bodice of lace, of silk, of velvet, or other material, according to the character of the dance. In ordinary ballet dances, however, all is white, even the slippers.
O the pretty little slippers! They have no heel, and are of the lightest imaginable; — white or pink satin. The uppers are heavily stitched with cotton all about the sole, so as to protect the satin wherever the pressure of the foot flattens it to a level with the leather. At the toe, where the main pressure is, the stitching is so thick and heavy as to form a pad. The slipper catches the heel firmly and is further secured with strong tape.
​And then the dancer is attired. The coiffure is a separate matter, and varies according to circumstances.
But, alas! the little slippers can be used only once or at most twice; the tights must be frequently renewed; the tulle petticoats must be incessantly replaced; nearly all this fragile fairy costume continually demands renovation. The laces and upper ornamental apparel alone endure. So that every dancer must carry with her quite a little shoe-store; for in one opera season many dozens of shoes are worn out, and then they are useless, except for rehearsals.
And now our Eleusis having been sufficiently explained, we do propose to say nothing more upon the subject, and leave the reader to dream of — whatever he pleases!