Admission to these balls was by ticket only, or by “voucher” (a cardboard square) as they were called, which were on sale on Bond Street.
And the cost of this? Almack’s membership fee was ten guineas—around £350 in today’s money according to the UK National Archives. One then had to buy one’s tickets at a cost of ten shillings each (£17 in today’s money).
But these vouchers were only made available to those on the List. And the means for inclusion on this List is among the most important things one needs to know about the place. For Almack’s during the early years of the 19th century was an exclusive club. Very exclusive. And it was run by women.
And not just any women. These are ladies of highest birth, fortune, and snobbery. And possibly the last of those qualities is the most important. They are the Lady Patronesses.
In 1812, the Patronesses were:
Lady Emily Cowper: daughter of the Earl and Countess of Melbourne; by 1814, the lover of Lord Palmerston and then his wife; sister of William Lamb and therefore sister-in-law to Lady Caroline Lamb who is the niece of the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire and daughter of the Earl and Countess of Bessborough;
Lady Jersey: wife of the 5th Earl of Jersey, the granddaughter of Robert Childs, a banker, and a considerable heiress; sister to the 11th Earl of Westmorland (and yes, her nickname was Silence because she never shut her mouth);
Lady Castlereagh: wife of Viscount Castlereagh (later the Marquis of Londonderry—he was Foreign Secretary and Leader of the House of Commons from 1812 until his death in 1822), she was the daughter of the 2nd Earl of Buckinghamshire—he’d been the British Ambassador to Russia and the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland;
Mrs. Drummond Burrell: wife of the notable dandy who was enobled so she later became Lady Gwydry and eventually Lady Willoughby de Eresby;
Lady Sefton: wife of the 2nd Earl of Sefton;
The Austrian Ambassador’s wife, Princess Esterhazy, and after 1814, the Russian Ambassador’s wife, Countess Lieven (who deserves her own blog as she is one of the most opinionated, odiously officious, haughtiest busybodies ever to breathe oxygen).
Unofficially, until he fled to the Continent to escape his debtors in 1814, Mr. Brummell also wielded a great deal of influence over whom to admit to the List and whom to strike off.
And probably it is this description of those who wielded the power to include or exclude that is most informative about Almack’s. Because although politics (and sex, London street riots, and the war) were all forbidden topics of conversation there, these were women at the pinnacle of political power and patronage, influence and wealth, not just in Britain but in Europe itself.
Between them, they weighed and scrutinised Britain’s nobility and gentry. And in most cases, found it wanting. Probably some full three-quarters of Britain’s aristocracy failed to gain their approbation. Wealth—especially if it “smelled of the shop”—was no guarantee of entry. Nor was birth. Good looks or talent might help. Dancing well, especially if one were male, was a definite asset.
According to Captain Gronow in his Regency Recollections:
Very often, persons whose rank and fortunes entitled them to the entree, were excluded by the cliqueism of the lady patronesses: for the female government of Almack’s was a pure despotism and subject to all the caprices of despotic rule.
The travel writer, Major Chambre, in his Recollections, wrote of the “Rules of Admission”:
No lady or gentleman’s name could continue on the list of the same patroness for more than one set of balls. No gentleman’s tickets could be transferred; nor could ladies procure them for their female friends, nor gentlemen for gentlemen. A mother might give hers to a daughter, or one unmarried sister to another. Subscribers who were prevented coming, were requested to give notice to the lady patronesses on the day of the ball by two o’clock...that the vacancies might be filled up.
Moreover, having been on the List one year did not necessarily mean one could look to be included in the next year’s List. Often too, in what might be described as playfulness (some might call it bitchiness) the patronesses would extend vouchers to a lady, but not her husband. Or vice versa. Particularly if it was felt one had married beneath oneself.
Almack’s was, in short, a place wholly given over to the pursuit of sex and marriage—and these are alliances based on property, money, political influence, and prestige. It is not about “love-matches”.
In Austenite language (though Jane Austen herself never mentions it), Almack’s was a place where Miss Georgiana Darcy could be safely introduced to eligible young men, without her brother or her trustees worrying that she might encounter a fortune-hunter of the stamp of Wickham or Willoughby. Likewise, these eligible young men would be sure that Miss Georgiana Darcy had been vetted by the Patronesses, that she was possessed of the fortune she claimed to have, and that she was suitably well-born.
For those who are devotees of Downton Abbey, if I may give another example, Almack’s provided one setting where the Lady Mary Crawleys of the age might encounter suitable gentlemen with whom they might form an alliance. It was never a place for ingenues from the country.
It was a hot-house atmosphere of gossip, music, dancing, and repressed sexual tension perhaps, but above all, it was a place where the very rich and very powerful played, partied, and reigned supreme....
In Gronow’s words, Almack’s was “the seventh heaven of the fashionable world.”
Dorothea Christorovna Benckendorff Lieven: Princess Lieven
by Lauren Gilbert
Countess Lieven, later known as Princess Lieven, is a frequent character of Regency-era fiction. Long known as one of the patronesses of Almack’s Assembly Rooms, she was the wife of General Count Christophe Lieven (later Prince Lieven) who was the Russian Ambassador to Great Britain from late 1812.
In Georgette Heyer’s The Grand Sophy, Countess Lieven is mentioned as follows:
“I was not aware that you are acquainted with the Countess Lieven,” said Miss Wraxton.
“Do you dislike her?” Sophy asked, aware of the coldness in Miss Wraxton’s voice. “Many people do, I know. Sir Horace calls her the great intrigante, but she is clever and can be very amusing.”
She was a noted hostess, whose salon was famous for society and politics.
Princess Lieven was born December 17, 1785 at Riga. Shortly after completing her education, she married Lieutenant-General Count Lieven in early 1800 in St. Petersburg at age fourteen. Even at that age, she demonstrated significant talent for being a hostess and for conversation. The couple had five children: a daughter who died very young, and four sons.
In 1809, then-Count Lieven became the Russian Envoy to the Prussian Court, which was the Countess’ first public position. In 1811, Count Lieven was appointed Ambassador to London, a post he held until 1834.
Both of the Lievens used all of their abilities to restore friendly relations between Russia and Great Britain. Countess Lieven became a leader of fashion and threw herself into society, becoming a prominent hostess whose invitations were highly prized. She was elected a patroness of Almack’s sometime in 1814 or earlier, and is credited with introducing the German waltz there.
During the Lievens’ time in London, Countess Lieven cultivated friendships with those holding political office who could best further the interests of the Russian government. Countess Lieven was definitely a political animal and contributed significantly to her husband’s success as ambassador. In fact, there were very few political events she did not influence to some degree between 1812 and 1857.
Countess Lieven was fully conscious of her own importance and superiority and had a high opinion of her own charms. She did not hesitate to form friendships (sometimes more than friendships) with influential men in a position to influence political matters to suit her. She would drop friends and form new ones as political matt
ers shifted, which did create some hard feelings but did not apparently affect her usefulness.
She is supposed to have had affairs with every major statesman involved in European politics, including the Austrian diplomat Prince Metternich, George IV, and numerous prime ministers—her relationships changing as the members of the Cabinet changed. Her relationship with Metternich is believed to have begun at the Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle in 1819, when Metternich tried to bring Czar Alexander into accord with Austria, and continued until 1825, when (coincidentally?) the accession of Nicholas I caused Russian policy to change.
Excerpts of her letters to Metternich are fascinating reading. In 1825, she was entrusted by Czar Alexander to make a secret overture to the British government. In a letter to Count Nesselrode, his foreign minister, the Czar wrote, “It is a pity Countess Lieven wears skirts. She would have made an excellent diplomat.”
Count Lieven was granted the title prince in 1826. In 1834, he was recalled to Russia. Soon after the Lievens’ return to Russia, their two youngest sons died. Princess Lieven subsequently left Russia and settled in Paris, where she continued to involve herself in politics, forming a close relationship with Francois Guizot. Her Paris salon was known as the listening post of Europe. She died at her home in Paris on January 27, 1857, and was buried at the Lieven family estate next to her two young sons who had died in St. Petersburg.
Lady Hester Stanhope: Regency England’s Eccentric Expatriate
by Teresa Thomas Bohannon
Lady Hester Stanhope was born into a family of wealth and privilege in 1776. Her father, the third Earl of Stanhope was fascinated with progressive mechanics and philosophy, while her mother was from one of the great political families of the day. Hester’s mother passed away when Hester was quite young, and the Stanhope children were sent to live with their maternal grandmother and uncle, the English Prime Minister, William Pitt.
Although her father was both wealthy and successful, genius was the only inheritance Hester received from him. William Pitt held vast philosophical differences from those of Hester’s father—differences that eventually created a breach between Stanhope and his children. Stanhope championed the improvement of social institutions and hailed the French Revolution as the beginning of a necessary change in societal norms. He urged his children to educate themselves so they might earn a living by some honest calling. When they adhered to the more elitist principles held by their uncle, Lord Stanhope renounced them, saying, “that, as they had chosen to be saddled on the public purse, they must suffer the consequences.”
Lady Hester later went on to play political hostess for her uncle and served as his secretary once he retired from office. Upon his death in January 1806, the only provision he could make for his niece was to recommend her to the favor of his king and country, who acknowledged their obligation to him by bestowing upon her a pension of twelve hundred pounds, annually.
When Hester’s fiancé, Sir John Moore, died in Spain at the Battle of Corunna (16 January 1809), his last words were, “Remember me to your sister, Stanhope.” His death left Hester prostrate with grief. Soon after she left England and spent many years visiting the chief cities of continental Europe.
Her rank, beauty, and fortune attracted crowds of suitors, but all were all rejected. After satisfying her curiosity in Europe, she, with a large retinue and a great deal of private property in tow, embarked for Constantinople with the intent of making a long sojourn in the East. A storm overtook the vessel near the Isle of Rhodes, driving the vessel against the rocks. The ship sank, and Lady Hester’s jewels and other property were lost to the sea. The lady herself, however, miraculously escaped. The piece of the wreck on which she had taken refuge was cast on the shore of a small desert island, where she remained twenty-four hours, without help or food of any kind before being rescued by some local fisherman who bore her safely to Rhodes.
Undaunted by this disaster, she returned to England, collected the remains of her fortune, and, after investing a portion of it in the English funds, embarked once more for the East, taking with her articles for presents, and whatever else might be of service in the countries she planned to visit. This time, her voyage prospered, and she landed near Tripoli and Alexandretta on the coast of Syria.
Here she settled temporarily as she began preparing for the rigors of her intended journey into the most inaccessible parts of Arabia, Mesopotamia, and the desert. She strengthened her body by diet and exercise, studied the Arab language, and familiarized herself with the local culture by interacting with the various natives of the country.
Once prepared, she organized a large caravan, loaded her camels with rich presents for the Arabs, and embarked on her travels. She visited every place worthy of note in Syria. At Palmyra, hordes of wandering Arabs assembled round her tent, and, charmed by her beauty, grace, and splendor, proclaimed her queen of that once imperial city. They agreed that every European under her protection might proceed in perfect safety through the desert, by paying the tribesmen a certain fixed tribute.
However, despite these tributes, Hester narrowly escaped being carried off by a tribe hostile to those of that region. Fortunately, she received warning and—thanks to the swiftness of her horses, and a marathon journey of speed and endurance lasting twenty-four hours—managed to place herself and her caravan beyond the enemy’s reach.
Lady Hester eventually settled on one of the mountains of Lebanon. Her adopted home rose from a barren valley into a flat summit covered with a beautiful green vegetation. A white wall surrounded her verdant enclave and marked the habitation of the “Sittee Inglis,” or “English lady.” Here, within the ruins of an abandoned monastery, she created a desert paradise—gardens containing bowers of fragrant vines, kiosks embellished with sculpture and paintings, fountains of marble, and arches formed of orange, fig, and lemon trees.
She resided there for many years in Eastern magnificence, surrounded by her English retinue, a host of servants, both black and white, and a large number of young females. At this point, she was quite friendly with the Sublime Porte, various pashas, and the local tribal chieftains. In fact, such was the state in which she lived, and the influence which she exerted, that she might well have imagined herself “Queen of the Desert.”
But the splendor of her reign was soon dimmed. Her wealth was not substantial enough to bear the brunt of her luxurious lifestyle. Her Arab friends’ affections were dependent upon a stream of gifts, and the friendly relations cooled somewhat when her gifts to them became less lavish and less frequent. Eventually, her English retinue died or deserted her, and she devolved into a reclusive life of near poverty.
However, some sources of influence still remained to her. Astrology—a science long devalued in Europe—still held sway in the East. The people of her adopted homeland came to believe that Lady Hester could read the stars—a belief which she exploited, thereby procuring the respect of the commoners, and, to a certain extent, the personal security which had formerly been purchased with shawls of Cashmere and rich silver-mounted pistols.
But while practicing these arts upon others, Hester herself became the victim of strange delusions—coming by degrees to the certainty that all was written in the stars, and that she therein had read the history of the world.
In Hester’s stable there resided two mares, both of which figured prominently in her delusions. She believed that the Messiah was soon to appear upon the earth, and that she, while mounted upon a milk-white mare of matchless beauty, was destined to be his bride and witness the conquest of Jerusalem and the establishment of his kingdom on earth. Her companion was to ride on the second mare.
This animal, in all other respects of beautiful proportions, had behind the shoulders a cavity large and deep, imitating so completely a Turkish saddle, that one might easily say that she was foaled complete with saddle. The second mare, so unique in her deformity, was watched with the greatest c
are by two grooms, one of whom was never to lose sight of her. No one had ever mounted her, and from her bearing one might have fancied that the creature was conscious of the admiration and respect which were entertained for her by all around and felt the dignity of her future mission.
Though Lady Hester retained her power over the lower classes by means of their superstitious fears, the neighboring chiefs were not to be thus restrained, and some of them sought by robbery to repay themselves for the loss of the accustomed presents. Hoping to coerce her into a renewal of them, they harassed her by petty vexations; her camels were seized, and her servants were beaten.
When she retaliated, an edict was procured, forbidding any Muslim, on pain of death, to remain in her service or to carry water to her house. This last prohibition was quite severe, since water for her house and garden had to be brought from a river three or four miles distant. Her appeal, however, to the Porte procured the withdrawal of the edict and saved her gardens.
In 1837, a new source of vexation arose. The British government appropriated Lady Hester’s pension to pay her creditors. Her ladyship rallied the Duke of Wellington and other opponents of the Whig administration to her aid, but ‘twas of no avail. Failing in these efforts, she appealed to the young Queen Victoria herself—with no better success. Lady Hester did not long survive this new source of mortification. She died on 23 June 1839.
Regency Era Classified Ads
by Debra Brown
TULIPS.—A Gentleman removing to town, has a BED of 100 rows TULIPS to DISPOSE OF: the price will be 1s. each root, and there will be from 1,300 to 1,500 blooming roots: a stage may also be taken if convenient. Apply to Mr. Potts, seedsman, 74 Cornhill.
Punctuation and capitalization is as in the ad.
Castles, Customs, and Kings: True Tales by English Historical Fiction Authors Page 53