Almack's Assembly Rooms by Victoria Chatham

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Fans of Regency romances will all be familiar with that most famous London location, Almack’s Assembly Rooms where ladies could see and be seen, and where mothers launched their marriageable daughters into society.

Originally built in the Palladian style, the Rooms were opened by William Macall in King Street, London in February 1765. It is reputed that being Scottish, Macall thought the English might consider his name too foreign sounding, so reversed it to become Almack’s.

It was one of the first establishments where both sexes could meet openly and became the place to be for upper class society during the season, that period in London from April to August each year. The most exclusive events were held at the town mansions of the leading members of the aristocracy, especially of those engaged in politics. The season closed at the end of July, when families returned to their country seats not only to escape the city smells and possible health issues, but also in readiness for the grouse shooting which began on August 12^th.

Money alone could not get you a voucher to Almack’s, but good breeding and manners did. Vouchers were ten guineas and were non-transferable. To not have an Almack’s voucher meant either that you had not applied for one, or you had applied and been found wanting in one way or another, a social disaster to those dedicated to the ton  - pronounced tone  from the French word for taste, or more accurately le bon ton.

Seven of the most influential ladies of upper society presided over Almack’s and included Lady Sarah (Sally) Jersey, Lady Emily Cowper, Countess Esterhazy, the Honorary Mrs. Drummond Burrell, Viscountess Castlereagh and Countess Maria Sefton. They were known as the Lady Patronesses and met every Monday evening to review new applications and the actions of the current membership. Membership could be cancelled, as in the case of Lady Caroline Lamb after her scandalous affair with the poet Lord Byron. Inappropriate dress could also have you turned away from Almack’s doors, as the Duke of Wellington found to his cost when he arrived wearing trousers and not the formal knee breeches required.

There were rooms for gambling and card games and a very plain supper was served in the upper rooms by the Macall’s at 11.00 pm. So they could not be accused of trying to compete with expensive private balls, the supper consisted of thinly sliced, probably day old bread and fresh butter followed by dry cake which would be similar to today’s pound cake. Presumably to avoid drunkenness only tea and lemonade were served.

Almack’s popularity began to decline after 1824, when manners became less strict. The last ball was held in 1863 and it closed its doors in 1871 when it was sold. The new owner renamed it Willis’s Rooms after himself. The building was damaged during bombing in 1940 and completely destroyed in 1944. Today an office building known as Almack House occupies the site and bears a brass plaque commemorating the original Rooms.   

Sources:  Wikipedia, Regency Manor, Candice Hearn Romance Author and Jane Austen’s World.  

More from Victoria Chatham at:

http://bookswelove.net/authors/chatham-victoria/

www.victoriachatham.webs.com
www.amazon.com/author/victoriachatham
www.facebook.com/AuthorVictoriaChatham

Born in Clifton, Bristol, England, an area rife with the elegance of Regency architecture, Victoria has always enjoyed everything to do with the Regency era. Her favorite Georgette Heyer title is Frederica, but she also enjoys titles by Jo Beverley, Julia Quinn and Mary Balogh.

Being an army brat meant being constantly on the move so books became her best friends. Now resident in Canada, she frequently returns to the UK to visit family and friends.

What A Whole Load Of Nonsense

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What A Whole Load Of Nonsense

In all of the writing groups I have involved with, there were always certain questions posed. The most common being, "Excuse me where are the washrooms?" Or if you are from south of the border, the restrooms. Then there's the good old Brit who'd ask for the bog or the loo.

Yeah, the bog I get, but the loo? The English have different names for everything, but considering they've been around six or seven years longer than the entire North American Continent has been discovered and they've got the Queen on their side, which overrules everyone.

But I digress, otherwise my title does begin to make total sense. A very common question is, "how do I pull my readers in, lock them up and throw away the key." Well the last bit I just made up. So if I said the following;

From atop the plateau overlooking Machu Picchu the couple gazed. The old stone buildings glinting in the sunlight. Air so rarified it was hard to breathe. Overhead eagles cried out. Julia-Rae licked the salty sweat from her lips, as his calloused hand brushed along her arm, sending a shiver through her. She inhaled, smelling that pungent, masculine aroma oozing out of his pores.

Did that pull you in? If not, stop reading and beat it, I'm wasting your time and mine. But, if yes, then what did I do to engage the reader? ..... waiting!

Some are probably now thinking, is this guy crazy? Yup. Does he drive his wife and his publisher crazy? Yup, and double yup. Does he make much or any sense at all?

Bang. You've got it. Senses. I used all of them in that paragraph; sight, taste, touch, smell and hearing to engage the reader. If you can make the reader experience all of those in a scene, you've got them involved. And if this doesn't work for you, try gardening; then it's just you, dirt and weeds. Doesn't get more basic than that.

Or you could use my next favorite tactic to engage the reader, grab your book and whack them on the forehead with its spine. They'll either be engaged or unconscious and when they come to, you will definitely have their (and most likely their lawyers as well), attention.

Oh, before I finish and just in case you're wondering, Loo? Where the hell did that come from? Some say it came from the shortened term - Waterloo- the English bathroom company that manufactured toilets and urinals. Or, I really like this one, and no, I didn't make this up. In the late eighteen hundreds the Earl of Lichfield loved to entertain people, only he had a most miserable wife, "Lady Louisa." After meeting her, many guests replied with, "nice chap but she's anything but a lady." Back then, the posh people would put the visitor's name on their bedroom doors. Two rather inebriated gentlemen decided to switch her name plate with the bathrooms. Later guests laughingly told everyone of "going to visit Lady Louisa" or today "going to the loo."

Was it serendipity or a higher power? By Sandy Semerad

As I reflect on certain events in my life, I can't help but wonder. Did these things occur by chance or was a higher power at work?

Tell me what you think after you've read this:

 Years ago, I worked as a reporter for the Marietta Daily Journal. The phone rang in the newsroom, and I grabbed it.

“Where can I turn to for help?” a woman asked. “It’s almost Christmas and my children still believe in Santa. We’re running out of money for shelter and food. I’ve called the United Way and all the churches. No one will help us,” she said.

I listened to her plea. Her husband and two young children had driven across country to relocate for her husband’s job, she said. He’d been offered a better position, as a trucker for a local transport company.

On the long drive to Atlanta, their car broke down. They spent most of their savings on repairs, she said.

When they arrived in the city, they found a motel they could afford. The room was grimy and scary, but she told herself, it was only temporary. Once her husband started his job, they'd be able to afford a better, more permanent home.

Her husband, being protective, didn’t want to leave his family alone and unsafe. So he took them along with him in his truck. When the company found out, he was fired.

“We have never asked for a handout before,” she said. “I used to criticize people who begged for handouts. Now I know I was wrong to judge.”

Her story touched me. It rang true.

I wrote a feature article about her family’s dilemma. The story ran, with their photo, in the next issue.

The following day, I was in my kitchen, and the phone rang. I started to let the machine get it, but something told me to answer the call.

“Are you the lady who wrote the article about that poor family?” a man asked, and then described in detail what he'd read.

“Yes,” I said.

“Do you think these people are dependable?” He asked.

“Yes.”

 “I have an apartment, and I’m thinking of letting them live in it for free until they can get on their feet,” he said.

“That would be great,” I said.

A year passed. I was working as an editor for American Health Consultants in Atlanta. Christmas was approaching.

The phone rang in my office. I answered it.

It was the desperate woman, who had called me a year ago. She said she got my new work number from the Marietta Daily Journal. “I had to call and thank you and let you know, we’re going to have a wonderful Christmas this year.”

Her words touched me to tears, but it was years later when I began to wonder. Why was I in that exact spot when the phone rang in the newsroom? Why did I decide to write the story? And why did I answer the phone when that generous man, with the apartment, called?

I don’t know.

There have been many other examples I could share. I’ve included at least one of those instances in A MESSAGE IN THE ROSES, a novel based on a murder trial I covered in Atlanta. The book is primarily fiction, but as a professor once told me, “Fiction is the lie that tells the truth.”

Truth is a relative term, I know. We strive for truth, but don’t always achieve it. As to the truth about what causes certain events to occur, I’m still wondering. Do these things happen by chance—serendipity--or is a higher power at work?

What do you think? 

To find out more, visit my website: http://www.sandysemerad.com/ 

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