My apologies for not keeping faith with all of you, dear readers.
It was a very busy spring and summer. I finished THE LAPORTE INHERITANCE, which turned out to be a real labor of love.
For those who aren't aware, this is an historical fiction book about the founding of French Azilum, told through the fortunes and fates of one of Azilum's main families, the LaPortes. I fell in love with my hero, Bartholomew LaPorte, writing this book. There isn't much extant about him: a few letters by other people referencing him, a couple of passages in a couple of other people's books or journals, and one precious letter penned by Bartholomew himself. Alas, it's about sheep, and doesn't shed much light onto his personality.
But that's kind of the fun in historical fiction. You do your best, or I do at any rate, to find out details on your real life characters, and then what you truly cannot find, you create. I call it 'informed imagining,' and while I researched the LaPorte book heavily, when I couldn't discover facts on a particular incident or characteristic or event, I did have the latitude to imagine what it plausibly would have been.
So the LAPORTE INHERITANCE, all 400 pages of it, takes the reader from France during the French Revolution, to Philadelphia, and finally to the banks of the North Branch of the Susquehanna River where the colony was founded. It spans some 60 or so years, and follows Bartholomew and his great friend Omer Talon as they meet up with investors in Philadelphia and help to hatch the plan to establish Azilum. It was hoped that Marie Antoinette would escape France and the guillotine, and find her way to Azilum. Of course, that didn't happen, but some 200+ nobles did manage to get away, sail the Atlantic and arrive in the U.S. They heard about the Azilum, and decided to settle there and make a new life for themselves...and there begins the tale!
As always, THE LAPORTE INHERITANCE is available on Amazon in Kindle and in Paperback formats.
And next Sunday, October 22 at 8 p.m. on Pennsylvania Cable Network, you can watch an entire hour about the book! The program is called 'PA Books,' and I taped the segment a couple of months ago. Anyone with cable TV in or near Pennsylvania should have the PCN channel and will be able to watch it. I talk in depth about the reasons behind writing the story, how I went about it, and what I think of it, as well as give information on French Azilum itself. (The site is still operated as a living museum, and is open to the public!)
So check out THE LAPORTE INHERITANCE on PA Books next Sunday evening, and if you'd like to read it, head over to Amazon!
Meanwhile, I'm still mounting two period clothing exhibits: one at The Oldest House in Laceyville, and the other at the LaPorte House at French Azilum. I also still visit other historic homes in appropriate garb along with friends Karla, Lisa, Mike and others...and sometimes by myself. The weekend prior to Hallowe'en for those of you in the Wilkes Barre PA area, I'll be a special guest at the Dennison House in Forty Fort where I'll be helping out with their Hallowe'en festivities. Do check the Dennison website for more details, but it's Friday and Saturday, 6-9 both days, and I will say it should be a deliciously creepy and informative experience!
We've got a good slate of events planned for next year at the LaPorte House, too. I generally mention these and advertise them on my Facebook account, Deborah deBilly dit Courville.
Please send me a friend request, and I'll be sure to respond. Also, I've got a page Deborah L. Courville, dedicated to just my books, and another page for my English Country Dance group, and a third page called the Historical Costume and Fashion Society. The last one talks about events I and my friends attend in garb, and we always post photos, so check it out. If you live in the area and would like to join us on any of our events, just let me know on Facebook, or you can email me at debcourville@gmail.com.
Thanks, as always, for reading and I promise to post again soon.
Saturday, 14 October 2017
Monday, 10 April 2017
Reflections on a Regency Ball
For those who may not know, this past Saturday evening I attended my first Regency Ball. I've been studying English Country Dance--the stuff they do in Pride and Prejudice, for example--for a couple of years now. The dance group of which I am a part, the Binghamton English Country Dancers, did not have a ball last year, so this year was my first opportunity to dance a series of dances that were in the Regency style (though there were dances from the 17th through the 21st century) in full Regency garb, with 60+ other people similarly attired!
It was a blast. It was elegant and beautiful and most important of all, fun! We were the host dance group, and dancers from Canada, upstate New York and other areas on the Eastern Seaboard joined us. The stunning Victorian Phelps Mansion in Binghamton, NY, was our venue, and their glorious ballroom complete with glittering chandelier was the center of all the action.
There were a couple of moments that will never leave me: the end of 'Sapphire Sea' when the musicians slowed to signal the end of the dance and the entire room collectively and impulsively said, 'ooooohhhhhhhhhh,' to express our disappointment. Such a brilliant evening!
On a personal level, the event brought back a feeling I have not had since I left NYC and Philadelphia and moved here to Northeast Pennsylvania. Dancing again has brought me great joy. (And for those who may not know, I danced ballet from age three through my early 30s, had my own studio in Philadelphia and danced professionally in Boston, Rhode Island, NYC and Philly. I stopped dancing when I moved here because quite frankly there were no classes around at the level I needed.) To move to music is a great gift and one that I am extremely grateful is once again a part of my life.
But last Saturday and in the days leading up to it I quite unexpectedly experienced the recurrence of another feeling, or emotion: the camaraderie of a bunch of women all getting ready for a big event. Yes, sure, in ballet especially there can be cattiness and infighting. But more often there is cooperation and a giving attitude: your pointe shoe ribbon is loose? here, I've got a needle and thread to stitch it firm. You forgot your eyeliner? here, borrow mine.
Two friends and fellow dancers from the Binghamton group asked me if I would lend them dresses for the Ball. They both seemed to think their requests were impositions, when the exact opposite was true: it was a privilege to have been asked. Both chose gowns and wore them to the Ball, and I must say, they looked beautiful. The fun part for me was discussing which gown might look best, helping decide when they tried on a couple to see what they looked like, and kitting them out with coordinating gloves and whatnot so they could have everything they needed. It was great, and I was so pleased to help out.
The good will and camaraderie continued on the evening of the ball when another friend asked me to bring a gown 'just in case' the one she was sewing (almost until the last minute) was not completed or did not fit properly. Then when I arrived at the venue, she asked me to help hook her into the gown when it was finished--that ended up being more pinning her in than hooking her in, but never mind! And finally, because she hadn't had a chance to hem it, she asked me to help with that as well.
As we were hooking, pinning and hemming and just before that while she was sewing and I was affixing my coronet while another woman graciously was snapping me into my gown, other dancers, from our group and elsewhere, floated in and began changing for the Ball. A happy chatter ensued, even though we did not all know each other. I'd brought hair spray and so did a couple of others, in case anyone had forgotten. Someone else had safety pins. Another had extra hair pins. I heard snatches of conversation about hem length, shoe styles and whether one should wear a shawl or not, with advice being freely given and happily received.
It reminded me of backstage, when I was dancing professionally, or even when I was teaching, and at the end of the year, we put on our 'Recital.' It felt wonderful, and it made me smile, and the energy in the suite that the Phelps Mansion allotted us to change was high and happy.
As my friend and I went down the beautiful grand staircase at the Phelps Mansion and prepared to enter the Ballroom--having deemed each other perfect and ready-- I even felt a little flutter as I used to before a performance. This was NOT a performance, but it was rather a grand occasion.The flutter quickly evaporated when I saw the rest of the dancers from my group, all looking so very smart, and was gone for good once the musicians began to play, and we started the Grand Promenade.
I will confess that more than once during the evening I got a bit misty eyed when it hit me that I was actually a part of this splendid event that echoed so faithfully the portrayals we see in films of dancing from the Regency period. That all the practice and study was really paying off! I also had to blink quite rapidly when I saw my friends, in my gowns, whirling away and having a wonderful time. What a joy!
So I will leave you with the assurance that I will be part of the Binghamton English Country Dancers' Ball next year. Another dancer and I have already been thinking about a couple of tweaks to the event, although I think last Saturday night was darn near perfect.
And I will quote the saying that the BECD has adopted as its motto. From Vicki Baum: 'there are shortcuts to happiness, and dancing is one of them.'
It was a blast. It was elegant and beautiful and most important of all, fun! We were the host dance group, and dancers from Canada, upstate New York and other areas on the Eastern Seaboard joined us. The stunning Victorian Phelps Mansion in Binghamton, NY, was our venue, and their glorious ballroom complete with glittering chandelier was the center of all the action.
There were a couple of moments that will never leave me: the end of 'Sapphire Sea' when the musicians slowed to signal the end of the dance and the entire room collectively and impulsively said, 'ooooohhhhhhhhhh,' to express our disappointment. Such a brilliant evening!
On a personal level, the event brought back a feeling I have not had since I left NYC and Philadelphia and moved here to Northeast Pennsylvania. Dancing again has brought me great joy. (And for those who may not know, I danced ballet from age three through my early 30s, had my own studio in Philadelphia and danced professionally in Boston, Rhode Island, NYC and Philly. I stopped dancing when I moved here because quite frankly there were no classes around at the level I needed.) To move to music is a great gift and one that I am extremely grateful is once again a part of my life.
But last Saturday and in the days leading up to it I quite unexpectedly experienced the recurrence of another feeling, or emotion: the camaraderie of a bunch of women all getting ready for a big event. Yes, sure, in ballet especially there can be cattiness and infighting. But more often there is cooperation and a giving attitude: your pointe shoe ribbon is loose? here, I've got a needle and thread to stitch it firm. You forgot your eyeliner? here, borrow mine.
Two friends and fellow dancers from the Binghamton group asked me if I would lend them dresses for the Ball. They both seemed to think their requests were impositions, when the exact opposite was true: it was a privilege to have been asked. Both chose gowns and wore them to the Ball, and I must say, they looked beautiful. The fun part for me was discussing which gown might look best, helping decide when they tried on a couple to see what they looked like, and kitting them out with coordinating gloves and whatnot so they could have everything they needed. It was great, and I was so pleased to help out.
The good will and camaraderie continued on the evening of the ball when another friend asked me to bring a gown 'just in case' the one she was sewing (almost until the last minute) was not completed or did not fit properly. Then when I arrived at the venue, she asked me to help hook her into the gown when it was finished--that ended up being more pinning her in than hooking her in, but never mind! And finally, because she hadn't had a chance to hem it, she asked me to help with that as well.
As we were hooking, pinning and hemming and just before that while she was sewing and I was affixing my coronet while another woman graciously was snapping me into my gown, other dancers, from our group and elsewhere, floated in and began changing for the Ball. A happy chatter ensued, even though we did not all know each other. I'd brought hair spray and so did a couple of others, in case anyone had forgotten. Someone else had safety pins. Another had extra hair pins. I heard snatches of conversation about hem length, shoe styles and whether one should wear a shawl or not, with advice being freely given and happily received.
It reminded me of backstage, when I was dancing professionally, or even when I was teaching, and at the end of the year, we put on our 'Recital.' It felt wonderful, and it made me smile, and the energy in the suite that the Phelps Mansion allotted us to change was high and happy.
As my friend and I went down the beautiful grand staircase at the Phelps Mansion and prepared to enter the Ballroom--having deemed each other perfect and ready-- I even felt a little flutter as I used to before a performance. This was NOT a performance, but it was rather a grand occasion.The flutter quickly evaporated when I saw the rest of the dancers from my group, all looking so very smart, and was gone for good once the musicians began to play, and we started the Grand Promenade.
I will confess that more than once during the evening I got a bit misty eyed when it hit me that I was actually a part of this splendid event that echoed so faithfully the portrayals we see in films of dancing from the Regency period. That all the practice and study was really paying off! I also had to blink quite rapidly when I saw my friends, in my gowns, whirling away and having a wonderful time. What a joy!
So I will leave you with the assurance that I will be part of the Binghamton English Country Dancers' Ball next year. Another dancer and I have already been thinking about a couple of tweaks to the event, although I think last Saturday night was darn near perfect.
And I will quote the saying that the BECD has adopted as its motto. From Vicki Baum: 'there are shortcuts to happiness, and dancing is one of them.'
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