Eighteenth Century Waifs

by John Ashton

‘I am well convinced of the noble nature of a British Court of Justice; the dignified and benign principles of its judges, and the liberal and candid spirit of its jurors.

‘Gentlemen, life is the gift of God, and liberty its greatest blessing; the power of disposing of both or either is the greatest man can enjoy. It is also adventitious that, great as that power is, it cannot be better placed than in the hands of an English jury; for they will not exercise it like tyrants, who delight in blood, but like generous and brave men, who delight to spare rather than destroy; and who, forgetting they are men themselves, lean, when they can, to the side of compassion. It may be thought, gentlemen of the jury, that I am appealing to your passions, and, if I had the power to do it, I would not fail to employ it. The passions animate the heart, and to the passions we are indebted for the noblest actions, and to the passions we owe our dearest and finest feelings; and, when it is considered, the mighty power you now possess, whatever leads to a cautious and tender discharge of it, must be thought of great consequence: as long as the passions conduct us on the side of benevolence, they are our best, our safest, and our most friendly guides.’

But all his eloquence was thrown away on a jury of practical men, and they found him guilty. His trial took place on the 15th of September, 1790, and on the 22nd of September he received his sentence, which was seven years’ transportation. He took his leave dramatically, and made a speech lamenting his hard fate throughout life.

‘The world, my Lord, has given me credit for abilities, indeed much greater than I possess, and, therefore, much more than I deserved; but I have never found any kind hand to foster those abilities.

‘I might ask, where was the generous and powerful hand that was ever stretched forth to rescue George Barrington from infamy? In an age like this, which, in several respects, is so justly famed for liberal sentiments, it was my severe lot that no nobleminded gentleman stepped forward and said to me, “Barrington, you are possessed of talents which may be useful to society. I feel for your situation, and, as long as you act the part of a good citizen, I will be your protector; you will then have time and opportunity to rescue yourself from the obloquy of your former conduct.”

‘Alas, my Lord, George Barrington had never the supreme felicity of having such comfort administered to his wounded spirit. As matters have unfortunately turned out, the die is cast; and, as it is, I bend, resigned to my fate, without one murmur or complaint.’

Thus ended his life in England, which he was never to see again, and it is with pleasure that we can turn to a brighter page in his history.

In his account of his voyage to New South Wales, he says that it was with unspeakable satisfaction that he received orders to embark, agreeably to his sentence; and it is pleasing to observe that, under his adverse circumstances, the friends he had made in his prosperity did not forsake him in his adversity, for many of them came to bid him adieu, and not one of them came empty-handed; in fact, their generosity was so great, that he had difficulty in getting permission to take all their gifts on board.

His account of their embarkation gives us an extremely graphic description not only of the treatment of convicts, but of the unhappy wretches themselves.

‘About a quarter before five, a general muster took place, and, having bid farewell to my fellow-prisoners, we were escorted from the prison to Blackfriars Bridge by the City Guard, where two lighters were waiting to receive us. This procession, though early, and but few spectators, made a deep impression on my mind, and the ignominy of being thus mingled with felons of all descriptions, many scarce a degree above the brute creation, intoxicated with liquor, and shocking the ears of those they passed with blasphemy, oaths, and songs, the most offensive to modesty, inflicted a punishment more severe than the sentence of my country, and fully avenged that society I had so much wronged.’