Still it bespeaks, we think, either a want of sensibility to the censures of the world, or a want of spirit in the male individuals, either personally held up to public ridicule, or nearly connected with females that are thus assailed, that so far as we know, none of these censorious productions have led to a single breach of the peace. Perhaps, and we rather opine such is the fact, the love of notoriety supersedes the sense of shame, and the votaries of fashion, rather than pass without observation, are content to be held up to public ridicule and contempt, as in the work before us. It is, however, we think, evidence of a bad state of morals and society, when it is considered a compliment to be made infamous or ridiculous. It is also, we think, evidence of a bad state of the public press, when the restraints of political discussion are compensated by an unlimited freedom in the propagation of private scandal. But we should never be done, were we to follow out these reflections.

The title of the book under consideration, is "Almack's," and the motto is "Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice;" indicating that the author professes to be quite impartial. In the notices of English journalists that we have seen, it is acknowledged to be a correct delineation of fashionable manners, given, however, a little in the spirit of a satirist. If so, it is idle for the English writers to talk about the artificial heartlessness of Parisian society. The Baron de Grimm's pictures may be fairly compared with those of our author. The characters, with the exception of a sentimental young man, and a sentimental young lady, together with an old English squire, introduced, we presume, to give the book a spice of romantic fiction, seem actuated by but three passions, the love of notoriety, the love of intrigue, and the love of money; the latter always opposed to family pride, and always conquering in the end. The book is a gallery of portraits, which, taken as they profess and are acknowledged to be, from real life, do little honour to the family which sat for the likenesses.

Gentle reader! it is perhaps a moot point whether thou hast ever heard of "Almack's," except through the medium of some obscure allusion in the British publications. Almack's is a suite of public rooms in the fashionable part of London, sacred to subscription balls, subscription concerts, and subscription masquerades. It is a little imperium in imperio-an empire of fashion, whose importance consists in the smallness of the size, and the difficulty of getting into it. It is like our District of Columbia, a privileged place, entirely governed by its own laws, and independent of the surrounding states. It derides king, lords, and commons, and bids defiance to my

lord mayor and the bench of bishops. Neither his Majesty nor his Lordship, though the former is the father of the people, and the latter of the city, have any voice in the government of this privileged spot, hallowed from the intrusion of temporal and spiritual power, except in the person of an exquisite parson, or a city officer, subsidized-for what, we pray ye?-to keep the peace among rival dowagers, rival widows, rival wives, rival maids, and rival chasseurs, hussars, horse grenadiers, and ferocious dandies.

This invincible little empire, like that of the Amazons, is entirely under the dominion of females; self-appointed, selfsufficient, depotic, and uncontroulable-even by their husbands. The latter, we believe, are not even admitted to these sublime orgies, excepton condition of making love to other men's wives, and suffering their own to be made love to by every body else's husbands. The censorious writer of the Book, affirms, that a certain lady Hauton, together with ladies Stavordale, Bellamont, Wallestein, &c. hold the reins of government at present; and scandal affirms, with its brazen trumpet, that lady Hauton is no other than the notorious lady Jersey-lady Stavordale stands for the dutchess of Bedford-lady Bellamont for the countess of Sefton-lady Wallestein, for the countess of Lieven-wife to the Russian minister or princess Polignac, wife to the minister of France and lady Birmingham for Mrs. Bellamont. The male characters, having no voice in the government of the empire of Almack's, are not of sufficient consequence to be deciphered. What a pleasure for us plain republicans to be introduced into such lordly and princely society!

This regency, as might be expected, from its being composed entirely of married ladies, knows no law but its own will. It admits or excludes whomsoever it pleases; and no lord nor lady, nor potentate, can enter the confines of Almack's without their permission, Even the hero of Waterloo, the very pink of war and gallantry, as well as the hero of mixed metaphors, the late lord Londonderry, could not gain admittance into Almack's, though the former applied the whole force of his military talents, to take the place by storm; and the latter tried to sap it with long speeches. In vain had they kept company with continental kings; they could not soften the flinty hearts of the queens of Almack's. It will be found, in the history of that droll animal, man-and of that inexplicable of all inexplicables, a fashionable man or woman-that it is only necessary to shut them out, to make them exceedingly anxious to get in-almost, nay quite as anxious as they are to get out, when you shut them in. Man is after all but a grown school boy, always

striving to get out of his bounds, though it be only to invade a pig-stye, or tumble into a ditch.

The moment it was found there was great difficulty in getting into Almack's, every body became fashionably crazy to get there. A card of invitation was better than a patent of nobility, and sixty quarterings; insomuch that a noble descendant of the old Talbots, publicly declared, that he would resign all the glories of his ancestry, only to dance one single quadrille at Almack's with lady Hauton. Armies of exquisites, corinthians, chasseurs, hussars, horse guards, and heroes of the peninsula, besieged the dowagers of the regency of Almack's, and their waists became thinner than ever with disappointment. It is credibly reported, that a colonel in the guards, upon being refused a ticket for Almack's, got a furlough, went to Greece, and in an agony of despair, held out his head to be cut off by a bashaw of three tails. You could tell a man who belonged to Almack's by the triumphant attitude of his nose, and the sparkling of his eye. Nay, it was whispered, that a knight commander of the Bath, offered his cross for a ticket at Almack's.

As to the young ladies, and the mothers of young ladies, just coming into the world-we do not mean just born-but just come to the age of matrimony, they all got a desperate fever, which Sir Henry Halford called the Almack plague. The dowagers of the regency of Almack's each received, on an average, hundreds of invitations a day, to dinners and evening parties-besides innumerable presents of pine apples, early strawberries and peaches-Newtown pippins, and offers to lend money. At cards they won as much as they pleased, from the candidates for Almack's, who thought to conciliate them by such little attentions; and the lady of a city knight ruined her husband by these propitiatory sacrifices to obtain a ticket. Never was there such a despotism, and never such extreme anxiety to be governed by it.

Youth, beauty, fortune, rank, talents, all passed for nothing— unless the possessor had a ticket; nor could any young lady, without this patent of distinction, whatever might be her claims to fashion or attention, expect to be noticed by the exquisites, corinthians, hussars, chasseurs, and horse guards, in the presence of ugliness, vulgarity, and stupidity, having a ticket for Almack's. The halo of genius, the power of public station, the glories of military renown, and all other claims, sunk into nothing, when compared to the possession of a ticket for Almack's.

The reader will be tempted to ask, in what consisted the value of this unequalled distinction? The mere difficulty of

obtaining it. It is in fact one of the dullest places in the kingdom, and as will appear by subsequent extracts, frequented by people, not a great deal better than they should be. It is a suite of rooms where fashionables meet to dance, flirt and intrigue. But every fashionable person, that is to say, every person having a fair claim, cannot be admitted, except by a decree of the regency; and for that very reason, there is no such thing as enjoying a moment's peace in the world of fashion, without a ticket for Almack's. Such is the magic of exclusion, in the fashionable world, and such the singular importance of being able to get where other people, and especially our particular friends, are not admitted. Of all the manias of this mad world, the mania of fashionable eagerness to be somewhere where every body can't be, and to see something every body can't see, is the most fierce and ungovernable. All the passions put together, do not produce half the excesses of this passion for the exclusive. But let us hear what the author says for himself.

There is a thin vein of a story, by which the three volumes are held together, consisting of the loves of a certain colonel Montague, principally distinguished by being very tall and sentimental; and a Miss Birmingham, the only child of a rich manufacturing baronet, and certainly almost the only female of the whole dramatis personæ that a sensible man would ever think of marrying. The work, however, consists principally in detached scenes, incidents, characters, and conversations, full of variety, and managed with considerable spirit and address, although they will not bear a comparison with the better sort of English comedies. Still they are clever in many instances, and would be amusing were it not for the utter heartlessness and nonchalance, not to say downright maliciousness, with which people, connected by kindred ties and long habits of intimacy, speak of each other. We have sketches of fashionable life in the country and in London-neither of them much calculated, we should think, to give us a high idea of the morals or even boasted manners of the haut-ton. The so much talked of inexplicable, indefinable, and inimitable, ease of high breeding, if we may believe our author, consists in saying and doing just what we please, without the vulgar accompaniment of blushing. Attachments, affairs, &c. between married people, are talked of as matters of course; and the young ladies do not scruple to discuss accouchements, and crim-cons, in public, with as little ceremony as dresses and balls.

Much of the book is occupied with the conversations, intrigues, and manoeuvrings of a fashionable party of intimate friends collected at the country house of a certain lord Nor

bury, a dull prosing politician, with a fashionable managing wife, and a fashionable, clever, but heartless daughter. Our author thus sketches the party, its amusements, and opinions of each other:

"Who does not know the pleasure of a large party of distingués in a country-house; where the host and hostess have to supply amusement and conversation, from morning till night, to a set of people of whose tastes and dispositions they probably know nothing; where one part of the company are strangers to the other, and where the acquainted and unacquainted are alike indifferent to each other?-the few at the height of ton looking down with contempt on their servile followers; those half way up the ladder pushing down the steps by which they mounted; and the greater part at the bottom affecting philosophic contempt of the eminence to which one and all are alike endeavouring to attain. Who has not seen or felt all this, whether in high fashion, or middle fashion, or no fashion at all? And yet, notwithstanding the truth of this description, do not we see every day the delight with which lords and ladies, and masters and mistresses of countryhouses, high-born and high-bred themselves, collect a party of people together, whom they neither like nor esteem, with infinite trouble and expense, because, par hazard, the invited are supreme bon ton, and move in what is thought a higher circle than that of the inviters?

I verily believe, that no where is ennui more intolerably felt than in a large party of fashionable loungers, assembled together in a gay country-house. What so difficult as to fill up the hours between breakfast and dinner, so as to amuse a number of persons who are indifferent to each other? When the gentlemen have visited the farm, and the piggeries, and out-houses; and the kitchen garden, with its conservatories, mushroom establishment, hotbeds, and hotter walls; inspected the stables, and admired the hunters and coach-horses, what is there left to do, unless the post should opportunely come in just then? And what with newspapers of different sides, and letters to receive and answer, an hour or two may be got over comfortably enough.

The ladies, meanwhile, have the flower-garden, the conservatory, and green-house, to visit and discuss; waltzes and quadrilles to try over and copy; some new novel, if French so much the better, to lounge with in a great chair, or to carry up to their own apartments; then there is new work, or new patterns, to admire and learn; portfolios of lithographs and caricatures, splendid albums, and illustrations of scenery in various parts of the world. Besides these resources, if the day be fine, after luncheon some may take long rides over dirty splashing roads, or longer drives in a shut up carriage. And yet, notwithstanding all these efforts, time will often move with them most tediously.

Not, perhaps, if all the party be of the same humour; but in a