Dearest readers, I gather you have chosen your jabot and coat or picked the perfect polonaise. Her Majesty's Ball is just a turn of a day away -- and if you're reading this in archive, rest assured that some regal ball is never far away!
I have shown you the joys of an 18th Century Ball at its height. Yet I must apologize, for I have not shown you how one begins.
The first dance is always a grand march, where you and your partner -- or an unescorted partner who you have graciously asked to dance -- parade around the room.
Here is an example of a proper procession, courtesy of our Library of Congress. I do admit this group dates, shall we say, a hundred years ahead of us. Yet their skill outweighs any chronological abnormalities.
Anxious newcomers, fret you not. I reassure you the procession at most balls is not as complex. Come, let us move back one hundred years for a march closer to our time and pace and grace, as presented by the dancers of the 2nd Annual Jane Austen Ball in Rochester.
Well done, ladies and gentlemen. Let us also tip our cocked hats to the dancing mistress at front, directing the couples. However, even with generous assistance, those unfamiliar with the march sometimes forget its patterns. Good ladies and gentlemen, in addition to your knowledge of the figures and ample supply of grace, you must possess a generous stock of good nature and humour. Our next clip shall illustrate.
Shakespeare could have written many comedies of errors borne of the ballroom floor. I myself could have starred in a few. But dearest friends, 'tis better to have danced and blown it than never danced at all!
And, aye, I have not finished yet.
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