Almack’s has for years maintained the sovereignty in the world of fashion; no rival has ever been able to subvert its power, or even to claim the enjoyment of a divided empire. Our readers are aware that Almack’s is a society formed, directed, and supported by six distinguished English females of high rank, associated with a foreign Princess of the first fashion. With them rest the power, the honour, and the glory of electing the members of whom the society shall consist, and in the exercise of that power it is only justice to admit that they proceed on liberal principles, and that the choice extends to persons of all ranks, professions, and political opinions. The meeting of Parliament is in general the signal for the commencement of operations, when the mighty even who preside over the destinies of this extraordinary confederation proceed to elect their subjects, in whom the honour of visiting, or being visited by one, at least, of the fair electresses, is an essential qualification. As the town fills, the number of the elect necessarily increases. In that respect Almack’s keeps pace with the two Houses of Parliament, which it also resembles in its composition, comprising, as it does, Whigs, Tories, Radicals, and Conservatives, with an admixture of foreigners of the first classes, including the corps diplomatique. The great mass of the society, embracing, of course, members of the two Houses of Parliament, the time of meeting appears to have been studied for their convenience. Wednesday is considered light day for Parliamentary business, and the hour of assembling at Almack’s is after twelve o’clock at night. From these circumstances, we should be inclined to say that the society is in its meridian about Easter. Admission into its ranks is the only sterling stamp of fashion, and at the west end of the town people in the first circles estimate the consequence of others according as they are or are not members of it.
“Who dares dispute the order of the Senate.”
No one dares dispute the power or authority of these grand electresses; none dare to disobey their commands or violate their rules,, there is no instance in the world of such absolute despotism on the one part, and of implicit obedience on the other. The Ladies Patronesses can admit whom they please; but neither rank, talent, fortune, nor political consideration can avail, if the candidate be obnoxious to any one of these fair and mighty rulers. Should it be asked, ‘How have they been able to acquire such extraordinary power?’ we may answer, by the moral force of character, which, by its judicious exercise, obtained an acquiescence in its assumption from individuals of their own sphere, who were content to acknowledge an authority which reflects upon themselves, when become the subjects of their choice, some share of that superiority they bestowed. It is not therefore surprising that admission into a society so formed, involved in so much mystery, and so difficult of access, should be an object of ambition to every aspiring belle.
The following little story may afford amusement to our readers, and we can vouch for its authenticity:, Some few years ago, a beautiful girl, the only daughter of a wealthy and highly respectable gentleman, who moved in the first circles of rank and fashion, conceived an ardent desire to obtain the honour of being presented at Almack’s. Ellen Somerville (for so we shall call the fair aspirant), was at that time between eighteen and nineteen years, an age when the passions begin to bud, and to affect the heart. She was tall and elegantly formed, her features soft and regular, such as
‘Youthful poets fancy when they love;’
with the most expressive and sparkling black eyes.
‘Her eyes, and one might look on them at times,
In lustre did outvie that Egyptian queen,
When on the Cydnus’ banks in pride she stuck
Rare gems, each one a province, in her hair.
And bade the Roman worship her.’
Her mental qualifications equalled her personal beauty. Ellen was indeed a paragon of perfection , one, whom to see, was to adore. Her anxious parent tried every means in his power to gratify her desire, but all in vain; the consequence was, the young lady’s health visibly declined: and every effort having been made to divert her thoughts, to no purpose, the family physician advised that a petition should be presented in due form to the Ladies’ Patronesses, detailing her case, and praying relief. It may not be unimportant to state, that the Ladies Patronesses then were, the Countess of J, y, Countess C, r, Countess of S, n, Countess of E, n, Emily Marchioness of L, y, Lady G, r, and the Princess L, n. Although their laws might be considered unalterable, like those of the Medes and Persians, yet the doctor contended, that ladies of such known amiable character and humane disposition, could not in such a case be inexorable, but would consider it a pious fraud to relax their rules, however sacred, in a cause like this – nor would he have been deceived, for we are acquainted with several facts reflecting the highest credit on the hearts and heads of these distinguished and illustrious ladies. The fond father at last acquiesced; but on the prescription being mentioned to his daughter, the vanity in which her disease originated came to her aid. She felt herself better: and a discovery soon after, that the celebrated edifice called Willis’s Rooms, in King street, St James’s, was the splendid temple in which this envied assembly held its nocturnal meetings, completed her cure. Miss Somerville had conceived an idea, that the scene of Almack’s must, as a matter of course, be as exclusive as its society,, something of surpassing splendour, outshining even the famed palaces of the Arabian Nights or Fairy Tales. But the idea of treading the same boards which are devoted alike to the Caledonian and other balls, however respectable, reduced the picture which her fancy had formed to an earthly level. Our simple and unvarnished tale, or rather anecdote, of fashionable life is now brought to a close; should it amuse our readers we may, upon some future occasion, give a continuation, under the head of ‘Anecdotes of High Life.’
‘Life is an ocean, where the tempests sweep.
And many a shipwreck marks the treacherous deep.
Where’er our course, chance seems the helm to sway.
And on we go, unconscious of the way.
The sails of some with happy gales expand,
While the fierce blast drives others from the strand.
But all at last in that calm haven rest.
Where no more whirlwinds agitate the breast.’
Reader, the subject of this little anecdote is now no more; six months since she was to be seen among the gayest of the gay.
January 1833.
From: The Court Journal: Gazette of the Fashionable World. January 26, 1833. No. 196, S. 50.