A smuggler's victim — Illness of Gilray — A gallant highwayman — A Witch — Bartholomew Fair — The Comet — A Practical joke on the Queen — Woman's Cricket Match — Ballooning — French prisoners of war — Luddite riots — The King and his physicians — His health.

The odds and ends of gossip for July may be taken briefly as follows—Smuggling was very common, and our grandfathers had not the faintest notion that they were doing wrong in purchasing wares that had never paid the King his dues. In fact, many were proud of it. Sometimes they got sold, as the following story will vouch for. It happened that in Windsor and its neighbourhood, a woman, clad in a long red cloak, appeared, calling about dusk at several houses with a sample of excellent Cognac brandy. She stated that her husband was waiting at a little distance with several casks of the same, which they could sell at a very low price. Several people agreed to take Casks, which were duly delivered, and the money for which was properly paid. Alas! alas! when the brandy came to be tapped it was nothing but water.

Poor Gilray, the Caricaturist, from whom I have so much borrowed, and who exemplified the manners of his times as well as ever Hogarth did, had been ill, and had knocked off work for some time—yet he still lived at Mrs. Humphrey's house in St. James Street, attempted, while in a fit of delirium, to throw himself out of the attic storey window. Luckily for him there were iron bars to that window, and his head got jammed, which, being perceived by a Chairman waiting outside White's Club, who instantly went to render assistance, he was extricated, and proper persons were appointed to take care of him. Poor Gilray etched his last picture in 1811, and it was entitled, "Interior of a Barber's Shop in Assize Time," but it was not published until May 15, 1818, nearly three years after his death, which took place on the 1st of June, 1815. It is a comfort to know that from the setting in of his mania until his death, he was well looked after by his old friend Mrs. Humphrey.

It is hard to have to chronicle the rise and fall of a most useful invention, the percussion Cap, which was patented by the Rev. A. J. Forsyth, of Belhevie, Aberdeenshire, on the 11th of April, 1807. Lepage, the noted gun-maker of Paris pirated it; and Napoleon, in 1811, ordered it to be generally introduced into the French Army. It has been superseded, or rather its form has been altered by the modern breech loader.

Good manners and courtesy from Robber to robbed evidently had not gone out of fashion with Claude Duval, and a "gentle thief" was not unknown, as the Miss Somervilles could testify. They were in a carriage with their papa, who was a surgeon, when it was stopped, on Hounslow Heath, by a foot pad—for there were subtle distinctions in theft in those days. The Man who robbed you, and was on horseback, was at the top of his profession—he was a Highwayman; but the poor, scurvy rogue whose financial arrangements could not compass the dignity of a horse, was a common thief, a wolf's head, a foot pad. This mean specimen of roguery, only armed with a Clasp Knife, with many oaths, declared that he would operate upon the Surgeon to his disadvantage, unless he gave him his money. Under this compulsion Mr. Somerville gave him all he had about him, two five-pound notes, and four shillings; meanwhile the women folk, who saw what was being done to dear papa, besought the evil-doer, with tears in their eyes, and their money in their hands, to take what his strong arm had won, and depart in peace. Then the innate chivalry of that robber arose within him, and he said, in a somewhat mixed vein of politeness, and brutality, "Nay, ladies, don't be frightened, I never did the least injury to a woman in my life, nor never will, d—n me; as for your money, keep it yourselves: all that I ask from you is a kiss apiece; if you grudge me that, I'm sure you are neither sensible, nor good humoured." VÆ Victis! The soft penalty was paid, and the wicked man turned away from his wickedness after doing a mild "Confiteor "—that he had spent all his money very foolishly, and the sum in which he had mulcted papa would carry him to his friends, and then he should have plenty. It was the first robbery he had ever committed, and it should be the last—and then he faded into the ewigkeit. But how about the stout coachman and footman who drove, and sat behind the carriage? Probably Somerville pÈre had something to say to them on his return home.

Here is another case of wickedness, by a supposed Witch, the belief in Witchcraft being a cult not yet thoroughly ignored in England, copied from the Annual Register of August 26th: "At the Bridgewater assizes, Betty Townsend, a very old woman, aged 77, who for many years past has been considered by the superstitious as a Witch, was tried for obtaining money of a child under the following circumstances: The prosecutor, Jacob Poole, was a labouring man, residing in the hamlet of Taunton, in which parish the prisoner also resided, and he had been in the habit of sending his daughter, aged about thirteen, with apples in a basket, to market. About the 24th of January last, the old woman met the little girl, stopped her, and asked to see what she had in her basket; which, having examined, she said to her, 'Hast' got any money?' The child said she had none. 'Then get some for me,' said the old woman, 'and bring it to the Castle (a tavern in Taunton) door, or I will kill thee.' The child, terrified at such a threat from a witch, procured two shillings, and carried it to her; when the old woman said, ''Tis a good turn thou hast got it, or else I would have made thee die by inches.' This was repeated seven times within five months, when Poole, the girl's father, going to the shop of Mr. Burford, a druggist in Taunton, to pay a little bill which he owed for medicine, found no less than seven different charges against him for money lent; and, on inquiry, found that different small sums of two shillings, half-a-crown, five shillings, &c., had been borrowed by the little girl in her father's name, for the purpose, as she said, of going to market, but carried as a peace-offering to the old woman. The whole was now discovered, and Poole's wife, and another woman, took the girl with them to the prisoner's house, and interrogated her as to the facts. She admitted a knowledge of the girl, but, on being reprehended for her conduct, raved and swore, that if they dared to accuse her, she would make them 'die by inches.' 'No,' said Mrs. Poole, who appears to have thought that she knew much better how to deal with a Witch than her daughter, 'that thee shall not—I'll hinder that': and, taking a pin from her clothes, she scratched the witch from her elbow to her wrist, in three places, to draw her blood, a process, believed to be of unfailing efficacy, as an antidote to witchcraft. The idea of this wicked woman's power has had such an effect upon the mind of the poor little girl, that she is now reduced to such a state of debility, that she is scarcely able to take any sustenance. The Jury found the prisoner guilty (what of?); and the Judge observed that only her extreme old age prevented him from pronouncing on her the severest sentence the law would allow. She was sentenced to pay a fine of one shilling, and to be kept to hard labour in the House of Correction for six Calendar months."

Bartholomew Fair must be within the recollection of many of my readers, for it was not abolished until 1855. At one time it was always opened by the Lord Mayor—yet it reads with an old-world flavour that "Yesterday Morning (Sept. 3) the Lord Mayor, attended by the City Marshals, &c., went in procession, after having partaken of a cool tankard at the house of Mr. Newman, the keeper of Newgate, to the corner of Long Lane, West Smithfield, where the fair was proclaimed, and all its usual din and bustle commenced." The fair was not finally suppressed until 1855.

It was not till 1835 that Bull baiting was made illegal in England, and it is refreshing to read that the bull, even for a very short time, had the best of his human persecutor, who on such an occasion ever cuts a sorry figure. Morning Chronicle, Sept. 4th: "A dreadful catastrophe occurred at Chapel Wake, Birmingham, on Tuesday last. A concourse of people having assembled at the Fives Court, Lawrence Street, for the purpose of baiting a bull, the enraged animal broke loose, and ran with great fury into Coleshill Street. A Scene of the greatest confusion ensued. An infant, three months old, was killed on the spot: two women and boys were dreadfully trampled and bruised, and remain in the hospital with little hopes of recovery, and many others received injury." Bravo Toro!

Annus Mirabilis! A Regent, and a Comet! According to Shakespeare, when "beggars die, there are no Comets."[6] These Celestial aberrations are for far greater mundane personages—they are for the great ones of the earth only; and, again, from the same authority we learn that "Comets importing change,"[7] is fairly fulfilled in the Regency.

Of course the Caricaturist got hold of it, and fixed it for all time. "The Comet of 1811" has, as nucleus, the facile princeps of his age. Its tail is studded with celebrities, all of whom I cannot, unfortunately, make out. First is Earl Moira, then Sheridan and Erskine; Lord Derby with his hydrocephalous forehead, and the Duke of Norfolk. Behind Lord Derby is Col. Bloomfield; behind him is Lord Grenville, and side by side with him are Temple and Buckingham, whose wig and spectacles betray him anywhere. The last face to be recognized is that of Earl Grey.

This Comet was discovered at Viviers on the 25th of March, by M. de Flanguergues, and was again noticed by M. Pons at Marseilles on the 11th of April. It was seen at Paris on the 20th of May, but was not generally visible in England until the latter end of August or the beginning of September. It was nearest to the earth on the 24th of October, and then it went on its course, and, in due time, vanished.

In September a practical joke was played, on no less a person than the Queen. For four consecutive days, ending Sept. 26th, Buckingham Palace, or, as it was then called, the Queen's House, was besieged by Washerwomen, from morning till night. It seems that a woman, calling herself the head of the Queen's laundry had gone round to hundreds of Washerwomen, telling them that she had held her present situation for five years, and that she had been obliged to discharge all her staff, because they did not wash the royal linen clean, and also that they got drunk. She was very affable with her dupes, and was not above drinking with them, or of borrowing from them, cloaks, shawls, umbrellas, and other trifles, promising some of them two guineas a week, others 4s. a day, a pot of porter, and as much rum, gin, and wine as they chose.

Early on Monday morning they began to arrive, about 6 o'clock, so as to set to work, and it was in vain that the porters refused them admission. Their tale was, that the lady who had hired them, had given them the key of the laundry to let themselves in, so that they might get to work, light the fire, &c. But, as there was no laundry at Buckingham Palace, they sent the poor women to St. James's Palace, where there was one, and, when they got there, it was only to be told that none had been engaged, nor even wanted. One can imagine the scene, more especially as many of the poor women had come from great distances, some had left good situations to go there, and others had sent their children into the Country to nurse, in order to enable them to take the place.

A more pleasing contest of women took place on the 3rd of October, 1811, in the shape of a Cricket Match between two teams, not the sort of thing as "Actresses" Cricket, which is now played between a team each of men and women, the former being armed with broom handles, the latter with cricket bats; but a much rougher sort of thing, if we can believe the accompanying illustration, which is taken from an etching of Rowlandson's, called "Rural Sports, or a Cricket Match Extraordinary. On Wednesday, Oct. 3, 1811, a Singular Cricket Match took place at Ball's Pond, Newington. The players on both sides were 22 Women, 11 Hampshire, against 11 Surrey. The Match was made between some amateur Noblemen of the respective Counties, for 500 Guineas a side. The performers in the Contest were of all ages and sizes."

The Match really began on the 2nd of October, and lasted three days, the Hampshire team winning. The ages varied from 14 to upwards of forty.

Rowlandson sketched with a freedom approaching decided coarseness—but his sketches were natural, and in this instance valuable, as showing us Cricket as then played, although the game, with its two stump wickets, curved bats, and primitive scoring was then obsolete, at least in matches.[8]

But, if we can believe the same artist, Baldwin and his congeners were outdone this year by a woman descending from a balloon in a parachute. It is taken from an etching by Rowlandson, dated the 25th of October, 1811, and entitled "Balloon Hunting." It represents the mishaps of a party of ladies who went balloon hunting across country, in a one-horse vehicle, the shafts of which are smashed, and the horse is being reduced to docility by the driver. I know of no woman who descended by means of a parachute, in this year.

They were not novelties, for AndrÉ Jacques Garnerin, the AËronaut, came down in one in 1802, and, according to Larousse, Elisa, daughter of Jean Baptiste Olivier Garnerin, brother of the above, was the first woman who tried a "drop from the clouds." She made her first descent in 1815, and in 1820 had made over twenty.

Taken as a whole, the French Prisoners of War, whose numbers were ever increasing, were not a bad lot of fellows. There were many breaches of parole, and large numbers of the rank and file, and seamen got away; for, in a Trial in the Court of King's Bench, November 14, 1811, the Attorney-General asserted that, of the French Officers, prisoners of war, on their parole, in this country, one-fourth had effected their escape: and that one condition on which smugglers from this country were permitted to land their goods in France, was the bringing over with them, a French prisoner.

Those interned at Cupar fitted up a neat little Theatre, which was opened on the 3rd of September. A prologue composed by one of the Officers, complimentary to the inhabitants for their hospitality to the Captives, was spoken and acted. This was followed by a Comedy in verse, by Regnard, called "Les Folies Amoureuses," and an after piece "Le Quaterne." The Scene painting, interior decorations of the theatre, Stage Apparatus, and Costumes, were all their own work: nor did they stop there, for they had an excellent band of their own.

But they could behave sternly on occasion, if there is any truth in the following story. In May, 1811, the French prisoners confined on board the Sampson (prison ship lying in the Medway), formed a conspiracy to forcibly take possession of the ship, and effect their escape, which was prevented by one of their number imparting secretly their projected plan to the commanding officer. Enraged at the disappointment of their hopes, they used every effort to find out the individual by whose communication their secret had transpired; and having, as they thought, fixed upon the right man, as soon as they were locked up for the night, they formed a Court, for his trial, at which a procÉs verbal was drawn up, declaratory of their proceedings. The suspected traitor was found guilty, but there was a difference of opinion as to his punishment, and it was at last resolved and carried into effect, that he should be tattooed on his forehead and cheeks "J'ai vendu mes frÈres aux Anglais abord le ponton 'Le Sampson,' 31 Mai, 1811."

There is not much more to chronicle for the remainder of this year, except the Census, and we must glance at the figures to see the enormous difference in the population then, and now. In 1811, the whole population was 12,552,144, in 1881, 35,246,562, or, in other words, the population had all but trebled itself in 70 years. In the last Census (1881) the sexes were very evenly balanced, being 17,253,947 males, and 17,992,615 females, and so they were in 1811, 6,310,548 males, and 6,241,596 females.

Still the Luddite Riots must not be forgotten, for, at one time, they threatened to be somewhat serious. They began in the neighbourhood of Nottingham, the Manufacturers there, having been obliged, from the decrease of demand for their manufactures, to discharge many of their workmen, and consequently much distress was caused. Nor was this all; a certain wide frame for weaving stockings had been introduced, which saved much labour, and, consequently, fewer hands were wanted. In November, these riots became rather serious, as, not only were the obnoxious frames smashed, and manufacturers' stock destroyed, but millers, corn dealers, &c., suffered, and the military had to be called out. Their name was taken from their imaginary leader, one Captain Ludd, who never had any existence, but probably stood for the Committee of Management.

At this time, at all events, the public were free from the sickening details of the illness of Royalty, such as they have lately had—in the case of the German Emperor, Frederic—details which could do no good whatever to the outer world, and which must have been very painful to the relatives of the deceased Kaiser. They managed things better in George III.'s reign. If the medical men quarrelled, they did not openly wash their dirty linen, but it only was known to a few that Dr. Willis's treatment of his Royal patient, during his former illness, had been considered unnecessarily severe, and that, perhaps, they were not too well content to have him associated with them in the present crisis: still for the first year or so, the people, who really loved old Farmer George, were kept fairly acquainted with the state of his health, until it became hopeless—and then, perhaps very wisely, they only were fed with the merest details of his disorder.

In February, the King was getting so well that the Queen and one of the Princesses, on more than one occasion visited him: then he suffered from a paroxysm of mania, to which succeeded a calm, during which he took his constitutional walks on the Terrace. In March, he got better, so much so, that on the 31st of March, the prayers for his recovery were discontinued in the Chapel Royal, and, at the Queen's Monthly Council, it was hoped that he would recover, so that he had the key of the Cabinet Council Despatch Boxes, and, in other ways, was treated as a responsible being. In May, his health was capricious, but still he was able to walk and ride in public. June brought a relapse, and his case was deemed hopeless, yet he still occasionally took walks. In July, he was in a very dangerous state, opiates had to be administered, and he partook of very little solid food. In August, it was said that his suite of apartments were padded to prevent his doing himself a mischief, but this was denied. September was a better month for him, but, in October, he retrograded. November and December only show him as leading a fairly healthy animal existence.