I am not sure if this Colonel Poerio is identical with the man of that name who, in 1812, when on a Chatham hulk, applied to be put on parole, the answer being a refusal, inasmuch as he was a man of infamous character, and that when in command of the island of Cerigo he had poisoned the water there in order to relieve himself of some 600 Albanian men, women, and children, many of whom died—a deed he acknowledged himself by word and in writing.
Colonel Ocher in 1811 got off from Lichfield with a girl, was pursued by officers in a chaise and four, and was caught at Meriden, on the Coventry road, about two miles beyond Stone Bridge. Upon examination, Ann Green, spinster, lodging at 3, Newman Street, Oxford Street, London, said that she came to Birmingham by the ‘Balloon’ coach, according to instructions she had received from a Baron Ferriet, whom she knew. He had given her £6, paid her fare, and sent her to the Swan with two Necks in Ladd Lane, where she was given a letter, which, as she could not read, the waiter read to her. The letter told her to go to Lichfield to the St. George hotel, as the baron had business to attend to which kept him in London. At the Lichfield hotel there was a letter which told her to go to Mr. Joblin’s, where Colonel Ocher lodged. Here she left word she would meet him in the fields, which she did at 9 p.m., when they went off, and were captured as above.
In defence, ‘Baron Ferriet’ told a strange story. He said he had been in the British Secret Service in France. He lived there in constant danger as there was a reward of 40,000 francs offered for him by the French Government. At Sables d’Olonne, Colonel Ocher’s family had hidden him when the authorities were after him, and had saved him, and Madame Ocher had looked after his wife and family. So, in a long letter he explains in very fair English that he determined to repay the Ochers in France for their kindness to him by procuring the escape of General Ocher, a prisoner on parole in England, and regarded him as ‘his property’.
Although the prisoners on parole had no lack of English sympathizers, especially if they could pay, a large section of the lower class of country folk were ever on the alert to gain the Government reward for the detection and prevention of parole-breaking. The following is a sample of letters frequently received by the ‘Sick and Hurt’ Office and its agents:
‘My Lords and Gentlemen,
‘This informs your lordships that on ye 30th July 1780, I was on Okehampton road leading to Tavistock, saw four French prisoners, on horseback without a guide. They signified to me that they had leave to go to Tavistock from there company at Okehampton. After I was past Tavistock four miles they came galloping on towards Buckland Down Camp. I kept in sight of them and perceived them to ride several miles or above out of the Turnpike Road taking of what view they could of Gentlemen’s seats, and ye Harbour and Sound and Camp, and I thought within myself it was very strange that these profest Enemies should be granted such Libertys as this, by any Company whatever. Accordingly came to a Resolution as soon as they came within the lines of the Camp ride forward and stopt them and applyd to the Commanding Officer which was Major Braecher of the Bedfordshire Militia, who broke their letter, and not thinking it a proper Passport the Major ordered them under the care of the Quarter Guard.
[Winds up with a claim for reward.]
‘Joseph Giles,
‘Near ye P.O., Plymouth Dock.’
It turned out in this case that the Agent at Okehampton had given the Frenchmen permission to go to Tavistock for their trunks, so they were released and returned. The ‘Sick and Hurt’ Office said that to allow these prisoners to ride unguarded to Tavistock was most improper, and must, under no circumstances, be allowed to occur again.
From a paper read by Mr. Maberley Phillips, F.S.A., before the Newcastle Society of Antiquaries, I take the following instances of escapes of parole prisoners in the North.
In 1813 there were on parole at Jedburgh under the Agent, George Bell, about a hundred French prisoners. At the usual Saturday muster-call on June I, all were present, but at that of June 4, Benoît Poulet and Jacques Girot were missing. From the evidence at the trial of the accomplices in this escape, all of whom except the chief agent, James Hunter of Whitton, near Rothbury, were arrested, and three of whom turned King’s evidence, the story was unfolded of the flight of the men—who were passed off as Germans on a fishing excursion—across the wild, romantic, historic fell-country between the Border and Alwinton on the Coquet; and so by Whitton, Belsay, and Ponteland, to the Bird in Bush inn, Pilgrim Street, Newcastle; whence the Frenchmen were supposed to have gone to Shields, and embarked in a foreign vessel for France.
I quote this and the following case as instances of the general sympathy of English country people with the foreign prisoners amongst them. The Courant of August 28, 1813, says: ‘The trial of James Hunter occupied the whole of Monday, and the court was excessively crowded; when the verdict of Not Guilty was delivered, clapping of hands and other noisy symptoms of applause were exhibited, much to the surprise of the judge, Sir A. Chambers, who observed that he seemed to be in an assembly of Frenchmen, rather than in an English court of justice. The other prisoners charged with the same offence, were merely arraigned, and the verdict of acquittal was recorded without further trial.’
Hunter had been arrested in Scotland, just before the trial. Quoting from Wallace’s History of Blyth, Mr. Phillips says: