While these questions were agitated in England, Sir John Franklin received the government of Tasmania. Captain Maconochie, already known to scientific men, and who had enjoyed long the friendship of the Governor, accepted the office of private secretary—a situation of not much emolument, but highly confidential. When his destination became public, the society for the improvement of prison discipline requested him to examine closely the results of transportation, as exhibited in Van Diemen's Land. To assist his inquiries, they prepared sixty-seven questions, comprehending the details of convict management, on which they desired a minute exposition of his views; and added, "make such general remarks as occur on the whole convict system of the colony, and its effects on the moral and social state of the community: also remark on the effect of the latter, and enter on the subject largely, making any observation which may be useful in regard thereto."
Captain Maconochie referred the application to Sir George Grey, who consented, conditionally:—that all papers on the subject should pass through the usual channel to the colonial-office, and be first placed at his absolute disposal. The effects of this commission were momentous. Maconochie, when he left Great Britain, professed a freedom from decided bias, and to favor the general system of Arthur, rather than that propounded by Archbishop Whately. The opinions he ultimately adopted, he ascribed to his own observation, and disclaimed all prejudice against those forms of prison discipline he was destined to subvert.
The discussions thus originated are of a deeply interesting character, and their influence will long survive the animosity they occasioned. The completion of Maconochie's report was exceedingly rapid, or it was very early commenced. He had resided but three months, when he felt authorised to pronounce the existing system of management defective, far less in application than in principle. The course ascribed to Maconochie was that of a prejudiced spy, seeking evidence for a case pre-judged: that which he claimed, was the task of a philosopher, scanning facts patent to every eye—even more striking when first seen. His conclusions he attributed to the inevitable process by which facts are generalised, and demonstrate systems. His style, when deliberate, is terse and explicit: his ideas he expressed with the utmost freedom; or, as it then seemed, audacity. The colonists he treated as an operator, who indeed pities the sufferings of his patient, but disregards a natural outcry, while expounding in the language of science both the symptoms and the cure. Without circumlocution or reserve, he spoke of the officers concerned in convict management as blinded by habit—as empirics who could patch and cauterise a wound, but were involved in the hopeless prejudices of a topical practice, and much too far gone to comprehend improvements founded on scientific principles. His deviations from the tone of philosophical discussion were not numerous, but they were marked. The chief police magistrate he compared to the lamplighter, by whom gas is detested. In praising that officer's administrative talent, he observed that he belonged to the martinet school, and that his estimate of human nature depressed it below its worth.
The representations of Maconochie, with reference to the condition of the convicts and the character of the settlers, awakened a storm of indignation. Transportation, he said, at a distance appeared a trivial penalty; but when surveyed more nearly, it was found to be inhuman. The servant was assigned to a master without his consent; his employment was alien to his habits; he labored without wages; he was met with suspicion, and ruled with insult or contempt. The servant became sullen, the settler vindictive: slight offences were visited with punishments "severe, to excessive cruelty,"—offences, often the ebullitions of wounded feeling, and the tokens of a hopeless wretchedness.
Notwithstanding, this condition—unknown to the population at home—afforded no warning. The victims were uncompensated—the great majority unreformed. Thus, employers preferred new hands to those passed through this discipline of suffering. Such as rose in society, were seldom really respectable; they neither regretted their crimes, nor offered atonement. But if the prisoner was injured, the colonist was not less so. Social virtues were discouraged; all classes were contentious and overbearing: the police, ever prying into the business of life, thus intermixed with penal systems, filled the colony with exasperation, from which not even the mildest spirits could escape. He did not propose to abolish transportation, but that the government by its own officers should both punish and reform; that the prisoners, when restored to society, should stand in the relations of free men to all except the crown, receiving wages at the current rate; and if restrained in their expenditure, not for punishment, but for safety—"the chains of paternal authority" thrown over them, "to protect them against themselves."
Maconochie sent to Sir G. Grey a Summary of his Report, containing his opinions of existing systems: at his request it was at once handed to Lord John Russell, who again, conveyed it to the committee then sitting upon the subject of transportation. Although substantially agreeing with his report, the summary condensed, and therefore rendered more flagrant, the charges against the colonists, and his description of the condition of the prisoners still more revolting.
This Summary appeared in an English newspaper. Hitherto the discussion had been confined to official circles or to select correspondence: it was now open to the world; and the colonists found, with astonishment, that the reform proposed was radical, and that the opinions of the reformer were wholly adverse to the existing systems.
In this summary, the condition of the convicts was depicted with all the coloring of misery: they were slaves, subject to coercion; strangers to moral impulses, save only the distant hope of liberty. They were lodged in huts with stable roofs, damp floors, and rude furniture.[222] They slept on truckle bedsteads, often undressed; their food was cooked in the roughest manner; without wages, they robbed; miserable, they were drunken. Their better qualities were unregistered: the artful escaped, while the "careless fellow," otherwise good, was involved in a long train of penalties. A ticket obtained, the holder could acquire no property, and was worried by police interference; and in one night his indulgence might be forfeited. Though some masters, generous or weak, softened its rigour, assignment as a punishment, generally exceeded the desert of minor offences: and its degradation, unfelt by old offenders, was agony to men of minds more sensitive. The bad were little punished, the good demoralised; self respect was destroyed; and men born to better things, sacrificed by political institutions, rather than by their personal depravity or their crimes. This state was worse than negro slavery: the interests of the masters were less permanent; who, though they did not fear their servants, disliked, coerced, and inveighed against them. This slavery tainted colonial life: the colonists were harsh and overbearing at home; they were quarrelsome neighbours, given to reckless assertion; rapacious, envious, and disaffected. Government was unpopular, and all governors so in succession. The police, if not corrupt, was irksome and intrusive. Labor was wasted, emigration discouraged. Crime and drunkenness multiplied, and what a hundred and fifty is to one thousand, or thirteen hundred, such was the crime of Van Diemen's Land to that of England and Scotland. Drunkenness had risen, in ten years, from three per cent. to fourteen per cent.: in London, such was the difference of tendencies between those meridians, it was reduced to an imperceptible fraction.
To remedy these evils, he demanded the abolition of domestic slavery: a separation, distinct as their natures, between punishment and moral training; punishment, certain and appropriate—inflicted upon system, and in seclusion; and training, not less systematic, but social and probationary—coercion being banished, moral influence alone applied. For punishment, Maconochie deemed the system of Port Arthur, administered by Booth, an admirable model. For training, he suggested stations within reach of the free community, where the convicts should be prepared for society in parties of six, joined in a common fate, by mutual agreement. They were to work out their redemption together: their vigilance would detect, their interests depress disorders in the clubs; the virtues of sobriety, diligence, decency, and industry, achieved by each, would be rewarded for the common benefit of all; but for the fault of one, the whole would pay the penalty; or should the partnership be dissolved by the intolerable injustice of any, its disbanded members would return to their starting point, and in new combinations pursue again, and perhaps again, the first steps, until all should reach abreast one common goal.
Such was the system of moral training and mutual responsibility, which he deemed only a new accommodation of established principles. In his view, it was a moral field the greatest statesman might enter with success, and thus crown himself with immortal renown. Such in substance was the summary, afterwards amplified by details and illustrated by facts. In subsequent papers the more offensive passages were explained and qualified; but at best, they appear not only an indictment of opinions and systems, but of classes and communities.