But on March 16, 1804, Jurien had not returned. One result was that when a Colonel Neraud applied to be sent to France upon his giving his word to have a British officer exchanged for him, the Transport Office reminded him that Jurien had been released on parole, August 22, 1803, on the promise that he would return in three months, if not exchanged for Captain Brenton, and that seven months had passed and he was still away. They added that the French Government had not released one British officer in return for 500 French, who had been sent on parole to France, some of whom, furthermore, in violation of their parole, were in arms against Britain. ‘Hence your detention is entirely owing to the action of your own Government.’
As time went on, and Jurien and the others did not return, the Transport Office, weary of replying to the frequent applications of French officers to go to France on parole, at last ceased to do so, with the result that attempted escapes from parole places became frequent.
At the same time it must not be understood that laxity of honour as regards parole obligation of this kind was universal. When in 1809 the Transport Office, in reply to a request by General Lefebvre to be allowed to go to France on parole, said that they could not accede inasmuch as no French officer thus privileged had been allowed to return, they italicized the word ‘allowed’, and cited the case of General Frescinet, ‘who made most earnest but ineffectual Intreaty to be allowed to fulfil the Parole d’Honneur’ he had entered into, by returning to this country.
Thame seems to have been a particularly turbulent parole town, and one from which escapes were more than usually numerous. One case was peculiar. Four prisoners who had been recaptured after getting away justified their attempt by accusing Smith, the Agent, of ill-behaviour towards them. Whereupon the other prisoners at Thame, among them Villaret-Joyeuse, testified against them, and in favour of Smith.
The experiences of Baron Le Jeune are among the most interesting, and his case is peculiar inasmuch as although he was nominally a prisoner on parole, he was not so in fact, so that his escape involved no breach. In 1811 he was taken prisoner by Spanish brigands, who delivered him to the English garrison at Merida. Here he was treated as a guest by Major-General Sir William Lumley and the officers, and when he sailed for England on H.M.S. Thetis he had a state-cabin, and was regarded as a distinguished passenger. On arriving at Portsmouth his anxiety was as to whether the hulks were to be his fate. ‘And our uneasiness increased’, he writes in the Memoirs, whence the following story is taken, ‘when we passed some twenty old vessels full of French prisoners, most of them wearing only yellow vests, whilst others were perfectly naked. At this distressing sight I asked the captain if he was taking us to the hulks. To which he replied with a frown: “Yes, just as a matter of course.” At the same moment our boat drew up alongside the San Antonio, an old 80–gun ship. We ascended the side, and there, to our horror, we saw some five to six hundred French prisoners, who were but one-third of those on board, climbing on to each other’s shoulders, in the narrow space in which they were penned, to have a look at the newcomers, of whose arrival they seemed to have been told. Their silence, their attitude, and the looks of compassion they bestowed on me as I greeted them en passant seemed to me omens of a terrible future for me.’
The captain of the hulk apologized to the baron for having no better accommodation. Le Jeune, incredulous, made him repeat it, and flew into a rage. He snatched a sword from an Irishman and swore he would kill any one who would keep him on a hulk. The French prisoners shouted: ‘Bravo! If every one behaved as you do, the English would not dare treat us so!’
The captain of the hulk was alarmed at the possible result of this with 1,500 desperate prisoners, and hurried the baron into his boat.
Thus Baron Le Jeune escaped the hulks!
He was then taken to the Forton Dépôt, where he remained three days, and was then ordered to Ashby-de-la-Zouch. So rapidly was he hurried into a coach that he had not time to sign his parole papers and resolved to profit by the omission. He passed many days on a very pleasant journey via Andover and Blenheim, for he paused to see all that was interesting on the way, and even went to theatres. He found about a hundred French prisoners at Ashby (some of whom, he says, had been there fifteen years!), and reported himself to the Agent, Farnell, a grocer, ‘certainly the tallest, thinnest, most cadaverous seller of dry goods in the world.’
At Ashby he found old friends, and passed his time with them, and in learning English. He was invited to Lord Hastings’ house about a mile from Ashby. Hastings was brother to Lord Moira, a friend of the Prince of Wales, and here he met the orphan daughter of Sir John Moore. He was most kindly treated, and Lord Hastings said he would try to get leave for him to live in London.