after eleven o'clock; and it was a breach of this regulation that once
overwhelmed the Duke of Wellington with humiliation. One evening, the
Duke, who had promised to meet Lady Mornington at Almack's, presented
himself for admission. "Lady Jersey," announced an attendant, "the Duke
of Wellington is at the door, and desires to be admitted." "What o'clock
is it?" she asked. "Seven minutes after eleven, your Ladyship." She
paused for a moment, and then said with emphasis and distinctness, "Give
my compliments--Lady Jersey's compliments--to the Duke of Wellington,
and say that she is very glad that the first enforcement of the rule of
exclusion is such that, hereafter, no one can complain of its
application. He cannot be admitted." And the Duke, whom even Napoleon
with all his legions had been powerless to turn back, was compelled to
retreat before the capricious will of a woman.

Such an autocrat was this "Queen of Almack's."

"While her colleagues were debating," says the author of
the "Key to Almack's," "she decided. Hers was the
master-spirit that ruled the whole machine; hers the
eloquent tongue that could both persuade and command. And
she was never idle. Her restless eye pried into
everything; she set the world to rights; her influence
was resistless, her determination uncontrollable."

"Treat people like fools, and they will worship you," was her favourite
maxim. And as Bryon, her intimate friend, once said, "She was the
veriest tyrant that ever governed Fashion's fools, and compelled them to
shake their cap and bells as she willed."

It was at Almack's, it is interesting to recall, that Lady Jersey first