A hood of Crimson Velvet, which is worn on the right shoulder.
The gloves, white kid, trimmed with very broad silver lace.
A Spanish hat of black velvet, with a beautiful large plume of Ostrich and Heron's feathers.
The splendid Gold Collar of the Order, with the medal of St. George, to hang on the breast, with large bunches of broad white ribbons and rosettes.
Two Stars of the Order richly embroidered.
Flowing ringlets of hair, with a bunch of white ribbons to tie them. This latter item shows how minutely the Emperor's outfit was provided. It was an age of wigs—and the Emperor's close, military cut hair, was not en régle. Another event, which people talked about, at the time, was the death, on the 11th of August, of Henry James Pye, Poet Laureate, aged 69. He was the son of a Country gentleman, and was educated at Magdalen College, Oxon. After his father's death he lived at Faringdon, was made J.P., held a Commission in the Militia, and, in 1784, was elected M.P. for his County. His circumstances becoming involved, he had to sell his paternal estate. In 1790 he was made Poet Laureate, and, in 1792, was appointed one of the Magistrates for Westminster. He was not very remarkable as a poet, and, probably, his best read poems were "Faringdon Hill," and "The Progress of Refinement." There were several candidates for the honour of being his successor, including Sir Walter Scott. There is a little epigram concerning two of them, worth repeating—
"Croker and Wharton are roasted so dry
By every impartial Review,
That, combined, they would make but a bad kind of stew,
But, certainly, never a—Pye."
The choice eventually fell on Robert Southey (Nov. 29, 1813).
During the year we hear occasionally of the French Prisoners. On the 14th of April, two of them, on board the Samson, prison ship, of which we have heard before, in connection with a traitor being tattooed, fought a duel, and one was killed. Having no swords, they used two sticks, on the end of each of which was fastened a pair of scissors. The duel was meant to be à l'outrance, for one received a mortal wound in the stomach, from which his bowels protruded, yet he still fought on as long as he could. The prisoners, at last, applied to the ship's surgeon, who sewed up the wound, but the man died very shortly afterwards.
They must have been a bad lot on board that ship Samson, for we read:—