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Regular readers of this blog know that a few weeks ago one of my writer friend's made the outlandish suggestion that eighteenth century France was simply not a romantic era.  After she made that statement, I heard a metallic clank. I think it was the sound of the gauntlet landing on the ground. After I recovered from the initial shock of having heard such a statement, I retrieved the gauntlet.  Since then, I have endeavored to prove to her (and you, my gentle readers) that the era of powdered wigs, fan languages, early morning duels, masquerade balls, witty salonières , and daring escapes from the guillotine, was indeed a romantic time.  I have shared with you details about the life of the dashing and debonair Chevalier de Saint-George and the epic romance between Napoleon Bonaparte and his beloved Josephine .  Today, I would like to tell you about two relatively unknown figures from that period in time. But first, as I am wont to do, I must digress... In the Spring o

Thank you Sophie Laurent for nominating On Life, Love and Accidental Adventures for the Fabulous Blog Award! This (usually) humble author is touched by your ardent devotion and demonstration of affection. I hope my musings (and frequent digressions) continue to entertain you for a long, long time. Now, in keeping with the tradition of this Fabulous Award, I must pass it along to five other blogs that I find most fabulous and list five of my addictions. So, here are five blogs that I find fabulously fascinating: Belle Image by Stephanie Mounts – because she is a wildly talented photographer and the best friend I’ve ever had. Tea at Trianon by Elena Maria Vidal – because she has long shared my passion for all things eighteenth century France, but especially Marie Antoinette. Translucent Blue by Amelia K – because she is a gifted artist and visiting her blog is like treating my eyes to sweet visual candy! Tava's Reflection by The Talented Tava Musial  - because she is w

It was one of those dreary days when gray flannel clouds blanketed the sky and errant raindrops pattered against my window, harbingers of the deluge that was to come.  The children were at school.  The dog was stretched out on the wood floor, her legs twitching as she no doubt dreamt of chasing seagulls on the lonely stretch of beach we often claimed as our own.  Though I had laundry to fold and manuscript pages to revise, the quiet house and approaching storm set a scene more conducive for reading than working.  With the the rain still pattering and the dog still twitching, I decided to abandon my tasks.  I grabbed a stack of books from my nightstand and took refuge upon the cushions of my favorite overstuffed toile chair.  At the top of my "To Be Read" stack was the slender biography  Elizabeth Vigee Le Brun: The Odyssey of an Artist in an Age of Revolution  by Gita May.  I looked at the lovely woman with the flushed cheeks and inquisitive gaze depicted on the cover an

When my best-friend, Stephanie , suggested we take a boat down the river circling Strasbourg, I felt a twinge of reluctance. We had just arrived and already the city was calling to me to walk its streets and discover its many hidden secrets. I wanted to explore the stone towers, timbered houses, narrow alleys, and hidden courtyards, not sit on a boat with a gaggle of photo-snapping tourists who had no respect for history. I have discovered in my travels that some places emit nostalgic vibrations. I can't describe it, really. The air just seems heavier and laden with spirits. Strasbourg was emitting that strange vibe. I could feel spirits in the air. I paid for my ticket, took a brochure, and walked down the gangplank behind a boisterous group of Spanish tourists. Once on board, I plopped down on a molded plastic seat near the window and silently prayed the journey would not take too long. As I waited for the tour to begin, I looked out the window at the neat row of timbered hous