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.
