The operation of the system was, however, well known to his lordship. The under-secretary, Sir J. Stephen, with extraordinary exactness, described the actual condition of the prisoner population—"living, not by a healthy competition for employment, but by an habitual and listless dependence on the public purse." He depicted the apathy and indolence, the low tone of moral feeling, the lamentable and degrading habits which prevailed; and asserted that in the hands of Lord Stanley, were proofs of an existing state of convict society, such as would be contemplated with deep solicitude. It may not be impossible to reconcile in detail these official and parliamentary declarations; but, taken alone, they would lessen our confidence in the value of ministerial explanations, not less than in official reports.
The comptroller-general stated that the system would not only prove beneficial to Great Britain, but work a great moral reformation in the convict population:[266] "that it had fully answered its object." These assertions were confirmed by the governor, who remarked, "that the men behaved as well as possible." Such views were strongly opposed by other testimony; among the most conspicuous was that of Dr. Hampton, surgeon-superintendent of the Sir George Seymour, who, charged with the care of a party from Pentonville prison, resided some time in the colony. He described the prisoner population as sunk in the deepest debasement; the ticket-holders in great misery; the reformed prisoners committed to the charge of felons; the better disposed taunted as "pets, psalm-singers, and Pentonvillains." Whatever had been most strongly affirmed by the enemies of the system, was amply sustained by his testimony.[267]
To the same effect was the evidence of Mr. Boyd, formerly of Pentonville, and appointed an assistant-superintendent to Darlington, Maria Island. This station was regarded by the government as superior to all. Separated entirely from the free population, it was accessible only by authority; yet close to head-quarters, it had the advantage of direct inspection and control. There were, at this time, 800 persons subject to twenty-one officers, civil and religious. Not a single soldier was on the island, and yet there were "no prisoners more orderly, or better behaved, in Van Diemen's Land."[268] This reputation it maintained, while the stations of Rocky Hills and Broad Marsh, were infamous for the abandonment of all order and decency. "Few could be favorably compared with Darlington, and none possessed its local advantages."[269] But the interior, as described by Mr. Boyd, entirely changes the scene. He declared the precautions against corrupt intercourse insufficient and unsuccessful: the most disgusting language was common; hoary villains and boys were worked together; the school books were torn and defaced; education was mere pretence; a large proportion of offences were unpunished; lashes were received in hardened indifference; the criminal habits of the men were unbroken; conspiracies to murder were frequently denounced. On the whole he concluded, that there could exist no better school of crime than a probation station.[270]
The laxity which prevailed was everywhere confessed, except by the immediate dependents of government. The Rev. Mr. Fry, a clergyman of Hobart Town, differed, however, with the colony in general. His earnest defence of the probation system (1845) was published by command, and quoted by Lord Stanley in the House of Lords. He asserted that the convict population had placed the settlers in ease and opulence; and that the bulk of the colonists were emancipists, who were bound to assist the condemned outcasts of Europe to acquire honesty and independence. "The clank of chains," said the reverend gentleman, "is now seldom heard, and the deportment of free laborers, grateful and respectful, has succeeded to the scowl of malignity, with which the assigned white slaves regarded their owners." He asserted that the gangs recalled the men from intemperance; that they were attentive to religious teaching; that the parties, although almost abandoned to self-discipline, yet lived tranquilly, unawed by surrounding force. These opinions were afterwards modified.[271]
Notwithstanding the habitual acquiescence of the colonists
in the measures of the crown, the development of Lord Stanley's system occasioned considerable sensation. The rapid increase of prisoners early excited alarm. The masses accumulated from all parts of the empire presented a new and fearful aspect: crimes reached a height beyond example in any civilised country. The settlers, environed by parties, were subject to frequent irruptions, and were compelled to guard their dwellings, as if exposed to a foreign enemy. The men wandered miles from the stations, alone: at the hiring depôts they were left almost to their discretion. According to the evidence of a magistrate, neither the comptroller-general, nor any confidential subordinate, visited the station of Cleveland from its establishment to its dissolution. At another, ninety men, near the township of Oatlands, under the charge of one free overseer, were worked in a line of seven miles extent. A settler, whose flocks had been pillaged, brought back twice in one month the same party; and again they escaped, threatening vengeance on the authors of their arrest. At Jerusalem station, 800 convicts were permitted to roam on their parole; to carry bundles in and out of barracks unsearched; to disguise their persons, and to change their dress. Their daring highway robberies ended in the proof of these facts before the supreme court at Hobart Town. At Deloraine, nearly one thousand prisoners were in charge of twenty persons, including the military: on one occasion, eighteen started for the bush, and filled the neighbourhood with terror. The local authorities could offer nothing but condolence; and even this poor relief was presented in a peculiar form. It was alleged that the amount of depredation and violence had not risen more rapidly than the number of convicts. This was scarcely correct; but it was little consolatory to the sufferers, assailed so much the more frequently, though by different hands.[272] Their honors the judges, with repeated and pointed condemnation, reprehended the utter want of proper surveillance and restraint, as cruel alike to the settlers and the convicts. Nor were the towns exempt from extraordinary inundations: many hundreds of men were turned out from the penitentiary on Saturday afternoon, and were thus exposed to the temptations of a populous city.
The officers of the department were charged with the trial of a system professing to breathe the most exalted charity. Had they, however, designed to expose theoretical benevolence to endless execration, no course could have been chosen more obvious. The liberty and indulgence given to the unfortunate prisoners seemed to bring them purposely within the circle of their old temptations. Many were led into scenes which act with fascinating power on men of criminal tendencies: they were often seen lingering for hours around the doors of houses for the sale of liquor. Amusements, which are always attended with some peril, were rendered more public and accessible. Dancing houses of the lowest kind were licensed, until their noise and confusion compelled their suppression. The regulation of night-passes became much less practically stringent. Everything facilitated the allurements and the commerce of crime. Receivers were always at hand, and robbers were tolerably insured when the first danger was over, by the rapid shipment of their spoil. Offenders, practised in the fraud of cities, were admitted into the towns, and placed in situations precisely calculated to recall their former habits, and excite their habitual passions. The puisne judge, in passing sentence on prisoners of this class, for new crimes, and holding up their police character in his hands, exclaimed—"Now, Mr. Attorney-general, I ask you what we may expect if such men as these are assigned in towns. Is it not surprising that I have to try such cases? It is shameful! It is shameful!" And such will be the opinion of mankind.
The chief expedients of Lord Stanley to relieve the colony from the redundancy of labor, and pressure on the treasury, were never applied. At the suggestion of Mr. Bishton, a clergyman of Westbury, Sir Eardley Wilmot recommended the leasing portions of land to well conducted ticket-holders. This was however strongly opposed on the spot, as tending to depreciate property, and inconsistent with the social circumstances of the country. The English allotment system was inapplicable: at home, it is a subsidiary to the general resources of the laborer, who can commonly find employment with the farmers, and easily dispose of the produce of his supplementary toil.
But a project of greater moment was contemplated by Lord Stanley, and adopted by Mr. Gladstone, and advanced far towards completion. This was the formation of a new colony, called North Australia. The civil list, composed of officers of modest designations—as superintendent, chairman of sessions, and clerk of the peace—was framed with the strictest economy, and the expense was to be defrayed by the English treasury. The colonists for the most part were to consist of exiles landed with pardons, either from England or Van Diemen's Land, and thither female prisoners were intended to be sent. During the first three years only new settlers were to be furnished with food for one year; with clothing, tents, tools, bedding, and seed. £10,000 in all, were to be expended in public buildings. To the office of superintendent, Colonel Barney was appointed, under the governor of New South Wales. A party set out for their destination: they were discouraged by the appearance of the country, but before an experiment could be made they were recalled.