When a silver-clad stranger admits she cannot dance at a masquerade ball in the first episode of Bridgerton’s new season, Benedict Bridgerton (Luke Thompson) is both entertained and mystified.
“A lady who cannot dance? Is this a part of the character you are playing tonight? A silver ingenue?” he asks Sophie Baek (Yerin Ha). A lady of the Ton who is unequipped with the vital accomplishments for the “season”? Unthinkable. Today, we are no longer defined by our ability to dance, but in the world of Bridgerton, dance is central to identity and a signifier of social status.
In Regency Britain (1795-1837), dance was a vital accomplishment for elite society. The skill was regularly deployed in assembly rooms and the London townhouses of the beau monde – the pinnacle of metropolitan fashionable society.
From an early age, boys and girls in polite society were trained in deportment (posture and bodily carriage), etiquette and dancing by dancing masters – a role assumed by Benedict at the Bridgerton masquerade.
Dancing in Regency Britain
The real Prince Regent of the time (the future George IV) started to learn from his dancing master at the age of six, becoming so renowned for his prowess that he was celebrated as “the life of the dance”. Dancing masters were crucial to transforming girls and boys into ladies and gentlemen, equipping them with the skills necessary to perform when they made their entrance into society around the age of 18.
At a dance lesson in fashionable Queen’s Square, the German traveller, diarist and novelist Sophie von la Roche observed that the six-year-old girls “are eager to learn, as they are already quite advanced and promise to make good dancers”.
Courtesy of the Lewis Walpole Library, Yale University
However, not everyone in elite society was an accomplished dancer. Writing about the Duke of Devonshire, the press diplomatically observed that dancing was “not his forte”. Meanwhile, the real Queen Charlotte’s eldest daughter struggled with her dance lessons as a teenager. The Princess Royal pleaded in a letter to her governess: “I have behaved well in every occasion except last Wednesday, that I danced ill … However, I hope that you will not give me quite up, since I have done everything else well, and that I dance[d] better last Friday.”
A lack of skill would only lead to ridicule and disgrace, as Lord Mansfield observed of the 19-year-old Lord Titchfield in a letter: “To set out in London raw as he is seems to be Ruin.”
Dance was a prized accomplishment for building reputation and staking a claim to inclusion in elite society, especially since “narrow examination[s]” and “thoro’ inspection[s]” were integral to the ballroom. Learning to dance was so ubiquitous in polite society that those who did not – or could not – dance stood out from the crowd.
The societal waltz
In Bridgerton, as the illegitimate daughter of an earl, Sophie is disadvantaged, but has not have been entirely excluded from society. We’re told that she was allowed to watch lessons with her stepsisters, but was not directly included and taught.
Unaware of Sophie’s background, Benedict is perplexed by her “puzzling” inability to dance, assuming that she was raised like the other young ladies of the Ton. And it is precisely this inability to dance that becomes a defining characteristic in his search for her in the following episodes. Indeed, Benedict’s hopes are raised when he hears of Mrs Mondrich’s (Emma Naomi) neighbour, who had not been taught to dance – certain she must be his mysterious lady in silver.
As Sophie’s dancing master, Benedict teaches her the waltz – a scandalous dance newly introduced to the British ballroom from France and Germany.
Unlike the lively and communal country dance and graceful minuet, which revolved around distance, the waltz featured a couple in a close embrace whirling around the ballroom. While quite a tame dance form today, the Regency waltz’s close physical contact shocked society. “Mad, bad, and dangerous to know” poet, Lord Byron even wrote a poem about it in 1812:
Hot from the hands promiscuously applied,
Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side;
Where were the rapture then to clasp the form,
From this lewd grasp, and lawless contact warm?
Benedict teaches Sophie the waltz box step (which actually emerged in the late 19th century), but the Regency waltz was even more daring, with the dancers stepping between their partner’s legs. With a new, fashionable dance to master, diarist Thomas Raikes observed: “Old and young returned to school, and the mornings were now absorbed at home … whirling a chair round the room to learn the step and measure of the German waltz.” He continued: “The anti-waltzing party took the alarm, cried it down; mothers forbad it, and every ballroom became a scene of feud and contention” – a marked contrast to the ball scenes we see in Bridgerton.
Despite being raised as a social outcast, Sophie learns the waltz with ease like the other ladies in elite society, showing her compatibility with this season’s hero, and, perhaps, hinting at her true belonging in the Ton.
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