FOOTNOTES:
[226] Despatch lo Lord Glenelg, October, 1837.
SECTION XXI
But Sir W. Molesworth had roused opposition to the prevailing system. The Commons' committee examined twenty-three gentlemen, whose testimony would be without novelty to the reader of these volumes. The greater part concurred in the inexpediency of assignment, and in the usefulness and importance of transportation. These witnesses were charged by Maconochie with a general indifference to the moral welfare and personal improvement of the prisoners. A colonist would, however, easily distinguish substantial benevolence from sentimental opinions; and they knew, by the trials of experience, how toilsome are the most generous efforts to correct habits not to be softened by the tears of compassion, and which do not yield to the wand of the magician.
The committee recommended that transportation to New South Wales, and the settled districts of Van Diemen's Land, should be discontinued: that establishments abroad should be limited to places where no free settlers were allowed to enter; that the abridgment of a sentence should be determined by fixed rules; that at its close, encouragement should be offered, to such as might merit the favor, to go to some country where support could be more easily obtained, and character recovered; and, finally, that no convict should be permitted to remain at the place of his punishment after its termination.
Such were the recommendations of this famous committee, which were carried into effect only so far as suited the convenience of the ministers; who, however, stopped transportation to New South Wales, and revoked the order in council by which that country was constituted a penal settlement. "On the 1st of August, 1840," said Lord John Russell, "transportation to New South Wales will cease for ever."
In van Diemen's Land, assignment was abolished: first in domestic service, then in the towns; and the opinion was intimated by Lord John Russell, that he inclined to the views of Archbishop Whately, with limitations and exceptions.[227]
Among writers upon the subject, who most strenuously maintained the policy of transportation, may be enumerated Bishop Broughton, Dr. Lang, Dr. Ross, of Hobart Town, Sir George Arthur, Sir John Franklin, Messrs. Macarthur, David Burns, and Captain Wood. They united in vindicating the colonists from the imputation of profligacy and cruelty. Governor Bourke was alone, among influential persons, a secret advocate of total abolition. In writing to the secretary of state, he intimated his conviction that, however strong the prejudice of the colonists in favor of penal labor, they were losers by the bargain; and that the social mischief gathering around them would soon demand a total cessation.[228]
In the voluminous productions, which for more than twenty years teemed from the colonial press, the idea of total abolition was scarcely suggested; except, indeed, in the year 1826, a colonist, under a fictitious signature, hinted in modest language that free labor might prove the cheapest in the end. The notion was tolerated, while the country was ravaged by bushrangers, but it was only treated as a curiosity and a dream.[229]
Towards the close of 1839, a meeting was held in the Mansion-house at Dublin, to promote emigration to New Zealand. A resolution was passed, on the motion of Dr. Dickenson, the chaplain of the Archbishop of Dublin, which exhibited a frightful portraiture of the Australian colonies.[230] Dr. Dickenson dwelt upon the social corruption, and declared that it was in vain to imagine a colony, so composed, could ever become respectable. The natural conclusion from the proportions of the census, the amount of crime, and the character of the expirees, was unfavorable to the colonies; but the imputation of general vice and juvenile depravity, were made most frequently by projectors of rival settlements, and were tinged with selfishness. The object of the arch-bishop and his chaplain warped their judgment, and their lofty tone induced the public to believe that they were right; yet when they described the colonies as vast brothels—as the dwelling of banditti, rank with the crimes and ripening to the ruin of Gomorrah—they were guilty of injustice. Many, who labored to civilise the brutish, and to reform the vicious, read with just indignation the statements of persons, whose station gave weight to their accusations, when they told the world that the children of the settlers surpassed, by the precosity of their depravation, the dreams of misanthropy. Against these sweeping opinions, Major Macarthur, then on the spot, earnestly protested. Dr. Broughton, on this side the globe, made an energetic remonstrance, and asserted that the report of the transportation committee could be taken only as the collection of facts, which were spread over a long period of time, and were descriptive only of a base and dishonored fraction. He asserted that a series of the Times newspaper contained a succession of atrocities which, if combined, would exhibit Great Britain as the most worthless of nations.
Inspirited by Captain Wood, of Snake Banks, the settlers of Tasmania had endeavoured to check the calumnies which assailed them. A public meeting, held when the report of the committee arrived, requested the Governor to do them justice. Sir John Franklin warmly denied the corruption imputed to the settlers, and the chief facts alleged against transportation; and the clergy united in general commendations of the liberality, decorum, and religious habits they had witnessed. This appeal was not received with much favor in England, and the London Times pertinaciously maintained that they were mere assertions of individuals—who represented that Van Diemen's Land, far from being a den of vice, was the place to look for virtue.[231]
The Archbishop of Dublin presented a petition from certain citizens of London, praying for the total abolition of transportation. He declared that no opposition, derision, or contempt, should daunt him. He advised the establishment of insular penitentiaries in the neighbourhood of Great Britain, and he moved that the punishment of transportation should be abolished immediately, completely, and finally.[232] The Bishop of Exeter, always in antagonism to Dr. Whately, asserted that his representations were exaggerated, and that crime amongst the native born population was one half less than in England. The whig Bishop of Norwich sustained the views of Dr. Whately. In reply, the minister stated that they had stripped transportation of its allurement. Some punishment for life was essential; Englishmen would not endure the perpetual imprisonment of human beings, or the sight of felons in their streets working in chains. It was resolved, however, to reduce the proportion transported, and to promote emigration. Lord Normanby observed, that although the most reverend prelate had made the question the subject of eight years meditation, he had not yet discovered a substitute which could justify abolition.
The ministers of the crown resolved to diminish transportation, but nothing was prepared for a change so great as was implied by total abolition: they, therefore, adopted a middle course, and Lord Normanby, in a despatch to Sir George Gipps, developed the policy then in the ascendant.[233] The principal scene of the future experiment, chosen by her Majesty's government, was Norfolk Island, commended by its healthy climate, its fertile soil, and its seclusion.
When the former settlers relinquished this insular paradise, it was long abandoned to desolation. The timber of the buildings was consumed by fire, lest the place should allure and accommodate pirates or enemies. In 1825, when it was re-visited, the few swine left there had multiplied; the domestic cats had become wild, and the trees were thronged with pigeons and doves. The ruined walls and blackened chimneys spread over with the unpruned vine, the coffee plant, the orange tree: the road overgrown, the stone enclosure beset with rank vegetation, amidst which many a garden flower grew wild, presented a scene, perhaps, unprecedented, except by oriental desolations.[234]
It was proposed to erect a prison on the island, in which a large body might be lodged; for which plans were forwarded, and the expenses required authorised by the crown. It was intended to remove the convicts already there; thus to preserve the prisoners transported from the united kingdom from the contaminating example of their predecessors. A commandant was to be appointed, at a salary of £800 per annum, who was expected to avoid the extremes of laxity and severity; qualified by a deep interest in the moral welfare of the prisoners. To this office Captain Maconochie was appointed by Sir George Gipps, and was permitted to test the ideas he had propounded, and to seek the success he had foretold. It was expected by the government, that the labour of the prisoners would soon almost cover the cost of their support.
The advent of Maconochie created vast excitement among the unfortunate beings. The active efforts of this officer altered the tone of the settlement, and inspired the desponding with hope: they changed the aspect of that abode of misery—where suffering, insurgency, and carnage, had furnished a dark page in penal history. True to his creed, he removed the permanent gallows, which met the eyes of the prisoners as they left their barracks for their morning toil, and abolished the doubly-loaded cats, which had been heretofore the instruments of punishment. The impulse was powerful: a new tone of command, humane even to tenderness; the promise of speedy deliverance, wrought on the minds of the prisoners with the force of novelty and surprise. The gaol doors were thrown open: the gaoler loitered before the deserted prison, and the prisoners yielded to the spell of a transient enchantment. On his arrival, Maconochie issued an "exposition" of his plan: he told the prisoners that punishment would be inflicted, to inspire the thoughtless with reflection and the guilty with repentance. Such would be its object, and such its limits. He exhorted them to a manly endurance and a diligent preparation to acquire the comforts of honest bread. He assured them, that while the escape of the incorrigible would be barred for ever, he would delight to hasten the freedom of the worthy. Thus those that earned 6,000 marks would discharge a seven years' sentence, or 7,000 would be required for ten years' servitude; and 8,000 was the composition proposed for a sentence for life. They were, however, to enjoy a portion of their earnings, which they paid in exchange for luxuries, or to reserve the whole to hasten their discharge. Thus it was possible to obtain a ticket-of-leave in one, two, or two and a-half years, from a sentence of seven, ten years, or life. He deprecated those lengthened punishments, which deprive men of the years of youth, and strengthen and ripen every evil propensity into fatal maturity.
While the government of Norfolk Island developed the novel system, accounts were conveyed to the colonies only at intervals: some in the spirit of hostility, and others because they were idle, delighted to depict the enthusiastic Maconochie as the subject of delusion, and the butt of ridicule among those he reformed; but the climax at last came.
Never was Norfolk Island so gay, or its inhabitants so joyful, as on the 25th May, 1840. A proclamation had been issued by Maconochie, describing the pleasures and festivities he contemplated. On this occasion he resolved to forget the distinction between good and bad, and to make no exception from the general indulgence; but he entreated the men to remember that on the success of this experiment his confidence would greatly depend: he warned them to suppress the first tokens of disorder, and by retiring to their quarters at the sound of the bugle, prove that they might be trusted with safety. On the morning of the day, the signal colours floated from the staff, crowned with the union jack: twenty-one guns, collected from the vessels and from the government-house, were mounted on the top of a hill, and fired a royal salute. The gates were thrown open, and eighteen hundred prisoners were set free, and joined in various amusements, of which Captain Maconochie was a frequent spectator. Eighteen hundred prisoners sat down to dinner, and at its close, having received each a small quantity of spirits with water, they drank health to the Queen and Maconochie—three times three for Victoria and the captain rent the air. They then renewed their sports, or attended a theatrical performance. New scenery, dresses, music, and songs, contributed to the hilarity of the party. The performances were, the Castle of Andalusia, in which the comic powers of the prisoners were exhibited to their companions, a variety of glees and songs, the tent scene of Richard III., the Purse, or the Benevolent Tar, and finally the national anthem.[235] At the termination, no accident had occurred; the gaol was entirely unoccupied; no theft or disorder had disgraced the day; and thus the notion of Maconochie seemed to be illustrated by the experiment. The contrast with the past system created the greatest amazement, and the description of this extraordinary scene excited universal laughter.
The long habit of connecting the notions of crime and punishment, of guilt and misery, was thus violently shocked. Its novelty gave to the policy of Norfolk Island the air of delirium: the disciplinarians of the ancient regime raised their hands with astonishment. The place, once of all most hateful, painted by fancy became an elysium: employment enlivened by plays, rum, and tobacco, was described as a cheering vicissitude in a life of crime. It was not difficult to see, that a reaction would follow, and that any untoward accident would produce a recoil.
It is said, that the prisoners at Norfolk Island deeply sympathised with their chief: that they combined in a society for mutual reformation, and that the paper which contained the outlines of the plan was headed by the well-known motto of the Irish liberator—
"Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not, who would be free,
Themselves must strike the blow."
These promising appearances were soon followed by a catastrophe, attended with sad sacrifice of life.
On 21st June, 1842, the Governor Phillip stood in the Bay. A prisoner, seated upon a rock, awaited the return of his companions from the vessel, twelve in number: they had been sent to assist in unloading the stores, and had remained all night. He heard firing on board, and ran to give notice to the nearest officer: the vessel had been taken. There were twelve soldiers, beside eighteen seamen. Two sentries were placed over the hatchway, but the prisoners were allowed to pass to the deck, where they noticed the negligence of the guard, which they rapidly communicated to their comrades below. In a few minutes they were all on deck: they rushed one sentry, and attempted to seize his pistols; then threw him overboard: the other resigned his gun. Two unarmed soldiers, who were accidentally on deck, struggled against them; they were unsuccessful: one took refuge in the main chains, and slipped down into the launch; the second attempted to swim ashore, but when within a few yards from the rock, he uttered a cry, raised his hand, and disappeared. The sergeant having gained the deck, shot the nearest of the mutineers; but he received a blow which rendered him insensible. The sailors ran to the forecastle, and the hatches were fastened down; but the prisoners, unable to work the vessel, summoned two sailors from below to assist them. The soldiers, having broken through to the captain's cabin, fired through the gratings: several mutineers were wounded. The convicts then proposed to send the sailors on shore, and demanded the surrender of the captain, who answered with a shot, which struck the leader in the mouth, and passed through his brain: the remainder instantly ran below, and the vessel was retaken. One soldier, who had attempted to reach the shore, had been compelled to swim back, and had been saved by a mutineer; but in ascending the side of the vessel was shot by the sergeant in mistake. The prisoners now asked quarter, which was granted; but one, on reaching the deck, received a shot in the thigh: another raised his arms, and cried "spare me!" Either by mistake, or in revenge, his head was blown off by the fire of the soldiers. Thus the deck was covered with the dying and the dead. The wounded were landed, and the bodies of those slain were buried by moonlight.
The prisoners were confined together in a large room of the gaol, where they were visited by the chaplain and commandant, who both labored to awaken them to a sense of their guilt. Several were remarkable for their misfortunes and their crimes. They were conveyed to Sydney in the vessel they attempted to capture. On their arrival, crowds met them, anxious to catch a glimpse of the men who had dared, unarmed, so bold an enterprise. They met their fate with fortitude, and their last words were in grateful remembrance of Maconochie. The chaplain who attended them, has described[236] the gratifying change of which he was the witness; and mentions with natural indignation the negligence which suggested the attempt, the cowardice with which it was resisted, and the cruelty displayed in its suppression.
Before deciding the merits of Maconochie's system by the result at Norfolk Island, it is proper to estimate the disadvantages under which it was tried. The island was not cleared of its former occupants, and thus its corrupting traditions were perpetuated. The officers employed had been formed under another system: several regarded the process with contempt, and were involved in quarrels with its projector. They resented the diminution of personal consequence, by an attempt to give prisoners the air of free men.[237]
The application of marks in redemption from a time sentence, was forbidden in cases of second conviction: thus, while some were spurred on to labor by the prospect of earlier liberty, the older and worst offenders were rewarded in having at their own disposal the time they saved by extra exertion; too often injuriously passed.
The small extent of the island, and the absence of a free employing population prevented an uniform practical liberation of the prisoners: vessels were not always at hand, and thus tickets-of-leave were granted to prisoners, who were employed on small farms allotted for their use. The obstruction to rapid dispersion prevented the hope of liberty from acting on the imagination with proper efficacy. The experimental nature of the plan was injurious to its fame. It required constant adjustment: irregularities and excesses suggested new details, and gave to the movements of the commandant the aspect of vacillation.
The settlement continued under the command of Maconochie four years; during which time another Plan, known as the probation system, was launched on the sea of penal speculation. The destination of Norfolk Island was reversed: no more the school of reform, it was to be made the lowest deep of transportation; and well has its destiny been fulfilled.[238]
Sir George Gipps, in his address to his council,[239] announced that, after two years and a-half trial, it was found that the expense had greatly increased; he had, therefore, resolved to transfer the prisoners from Norfolk Island to Van Diemen's Land. It had been at first contemplated to establish in that island not less than from two to four thousand men; but this accumulation the ministers had found it necessary to abate: and he expressed his conviction that that settlement would be only reserved for the restraint of incorrigible offenders, and the punishment of aggravated crimes.[240]
Sir George Gipps deemed it necessary to visit Norfolk Island (1843). His stay was too brief for more than a superficial survey. His impressions, on the whole, were favorable. He found the men orderly, respectful, and contented. The "old hands," or colonial convicts, formerly subject to a discipline severe to cruelty, were softened in their demeanour. "Great and merciful as the amelioration, no evils had resulted equal to those prevented." The lash was disused: the men were permitted to walk abroad during their leisure; to fish or bathe; to mix sweet potatoes with their maize bread—an indulgence greatly prized; to use knives, and other conveniences before denied them: yet beneath these pleasing appearances a fearful demoralization was traced. The prisoners from Great Britain were exposed to examples of appalling sensual degradation: vices prevailed which have ever stained that island.
The colonial press, uniformly hostile, was crowded with grotesque delineations—a style of opposition, when not ill-founded, more fatal than the most bitter criticism. The politeness of Maconochie to his men, and which formed a part of his system, was the subject of constant humour: he treated them like gentlemen in distress; they regarded him as a patron and benefactor.[241] The recall of Maconochie had been contemplated from the publication of the birthday festivities of 1840: his administration was, however, prolonged until 1844, from the difficulty of finding a qualified successor.
The people of New South Wales, who regretted the abolition of assignment as a calamity, disapproved the scheme of Maconochie. The legislative council declared against the transportation of convicts to Norfolk Island, not only as hopeless in reference to the moral recovery of the prisoners, but tending to perpetuate all the evils of transportation without its advantages. They requested that prohibitory measures might be adopted to prevent them from entering the colony at the expiration of their sentences (1840).
The trial of the "mark system" in Norfolk Island during a period of four years, according to Captain Forster, totally failed. This was the most important element of Maconochie's reform discipline. The men, however, found means to render the accumulation of marks independent of individual conduct and moral reformation. The amount, which ranged from eight to thirty marks a-day, afforded ample means for corruption. Clever mechanics were rewarded for their skill; the strong for their strength. The convict clerks falsified the accounts; men transferred their marks to each other as a private traffic. Offences were mostly punished by the forfeiture of marks: blasphemy at thirty; insolence at fifty; and greater insubordination, two or three hundred. These are the representations of an officer hostile to the plan; but they are such as are probable in themselves, and are inseparable from every system admitting indefinite good conduct as a positive claim to liberation.[242]
The officers had been permitted to keep shops and to traffic with the prisoners; and, it was said, that a vessel was freighted from Sydney to supply them with goods. It was, however, asserted by Maconochie that the practice had prevailed before his time; that it was in harmony with the milder views which led to his appointment, and conduced to the development of social virtues; that the re-convictions of persons discharged from the island were one-third less than of prisoners trained in Van Diemen's Land. Captain Maconochie repudiated "the fearful conclusion, that to make men examples to others, it is necessary to destroy them, body and soul."[243]
Nothing could have been more ill-judged than the selection of Norfolk Island for the experiment. The detention of the doubly-convicted, men long practised in the vices of the island, was still more unfavorable to a moral reformation. The preliminary accommodations, directed by Lord Normanby, were not provided: even friendly officers were not secured; and had the scheme been ever so sound in its principles, its failure was inevitable. In retiring from office, Maconochie was permitted to recommend for indulgence all whose expectation of release was justified by his promises, and he left the island regretted by the prisoners. A total change was contemplated in the discipline of the place: Norfolk Island returned to its former character as the "lowest deep."