CHAPTER VI.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.

In the account given of the transmission of convicts to New South Wales,

I have endeavoured, “nothing extenuating, nor setting down aught in

malice,” to describe the true state of morality in that country. A wish

to avoid prolixity prevented the mention of some few particulars, which

from the weight that attaches to their consideration, as affecting the

security and reformation of the prisoners, seem to be not destitute of

interest, and may without impropriety, it is hoped, be briefly mentioned

here. In these remarks I shall simply state circumstances as they came

under my notice in their practical effects, leaving the question of

remedy exclusively in the hands of those who best can obviate the

existing inconveniences, and remedy the mischievous results arising from

the present mode of transportation.

In the first instance, then, I would respectfully direct attention,

immediate and effective, to the present plan of fitting up prisons on

board of convict ships. The manner in which those places are erected for

the detention of male prisoners is less objectionable in regard to

security than those for females. In the one case, the protection of the

persons in authority over the confined appears principally designed, as

opposed to any violence meditated on the part of the male prisoners, as

also for the security of the ship. But in the other, these

circumstances, if they are at all allowed to occupy consideration,

appear of but little moment, because it seems to be an opinion commonly

received, _that improper intercourse between the female convicts and the

sailors must continue as a matter of course, and that all endeavours to

prevent it will be fruitless, and therefore any precaution in fitting up

a prison for females, with that view, is superfluous_. As far as it

regards the safety of the ship and stores, that may perhaps be the case,

as from women, merely, no such danger need be apprehended; and this

notion has probably led to the present specious manner of construction,

in which the semblance of confinement only appears to be consulted.

The present alarming increase of crime renders every precaution for the

safe lodgement of male convicts both wise and salutary, particularly so

long as no pains are taken to subdue their predilection for plunder and

profligacy, by informing their minds with moral truths, and showing them

the just and happier resources of honest life. With regard to this class

of prisoners, however, there is little to recommend by way of

strengthening the rigour of the system of confinement, as sufficient

care is taken in that respect, that as little chance as possible is

allowed of their resorting to violence with any hope of success, even

were they so disposed: when in addition to the fetters and the strong

prevention of their prison, the military guard placed over them is a

balance more than sufficiently countervailing to any such design.

The situation of a female convict prison claims attention in a peculiar

degree, if the main purpose of reformation, the object originally in the

contemplation of their sentence, be kept in view. Revolting in the

extreme to every feeling of propriety, is the idea of abandoning these

miserable women to indiscriminate intercourse, among the crews of those

ships in which they are ordered to be conveyed to their place of

banishment. They are humanely removed from their former mischievous

connexions; but who would say that this is a mode in which they can be

reclaimed? Prostitution has been the bane of many of them; will they

thus become less impure?

By the very unaccountable neglect of moral instruction heretofore

prevailing, independently of other causes, every sailor, nay the

officers on board, could take advantage of the defenceless state of the

female convicts; and so grossly did these excesses increase by

indulgence, that the commonness of the practice flung a familiarity over

the evil, concealing its disgusting odiousness, and making it looked

upon as an affair of course, of ordinary, of necessary occurrence! The

Government, being made acquainted with its existence, have interfered

and forbidden the abuse. Has that been sufficient to root it out, or

even put a stop to its abominable recurrence? It is seriously to be

feared that it exists in full vigour, and that, generally speaking, so

far from being circumscribed, it is unlimited.

Under a system of organized depravity and abandonment, which is too

disgusting to be depicted, can any one be surprised,—can anyone expect

otherwise,—than that the female convicts should arrive in the colony

contaminated and hardened in turpitude and profligacy to the last

degree,—so absolutely vitiated as scarcely to retain the consciousness

of a single virtuous thought? Suppose a simple country girl were one of

these, convicted of her first offence; it surely is not unreasonable to

imagine, that, if sheltered from such iniquitous association, decently

treated, and rather encouraged by mild remonstrance, and timely humane

counsel, aided too by good example, she might be reclaimed from error,

and again become a useful member of society. But, in a school so

destructive of moral feeling, as that which a convict ship has hitherto

been permitted to present, will any such salutary result in her favour

be expected? Can any thing less than miracle save her from hopeless

ruin? The hope of moral reformation is quite idle, so long as such

detestable doings exist; nor will it ever be made a consideration in the

necessity of their removal, whether they owe existence to connivance or

laxity of discipline. If, then, the reformation of female convicts be

still made a portion of the public concern, some arrangements different

from those hitherto employed, or some more efficient application of such

as at present so miserably obtain, are indispensably necessary: if

otherwise, too much has already been done, and useless restraints have

been imposed.

The state of the prison in female convict ships should be such that no

ingenuity, or any effort short of open violence, could be sufficient to

command a communication with the prisoners. In this case, the

construction of the prison ought to be as firm at least as that for

males; nor should the minuteness of accommodation in the interior,

concerning personal comfort, cleanliness, and decent reserve, be

overlooked. It is essentially necessary that a small apartment be fitted

up securely, for the seclusion of any female whose profligate or

refractory disposition may render solitary confinement necessary. This

place should be thoroughly ventilated, and kept clean, but every thing

carefully excluded except the absolute necessaries of life; which,

during confinement, ought to consist of bread and water only. There may

be some few in every ship, too hardened in iniquity, to be influenced by

kind treatment and moral admonition, who would be intimidated by the

fear of punishment like this. The want of such a place in every female

convict ship is felt and acknowledged by all persons conversant in such

affairs. The only objection to the general adoption of this measure is,

that it would deprive the prisoners of part of that space which is at

present sufficiently limited. But room may be allowed for it without

inconvenience, by making the number to be transmitted less by six or

eight than the usual complement: the advantages would then be found

greatly to outweigh the difference in expense, which at most could be

but a trifle. The locks, moreover, should be of a durable and well

contrived description; neither liable to be picked, like the common

clumsy things now in use, nor spoiled by the effects of moisture; and

two or three spare sets, at least, should be supplied, to replace such

as may be injured on the voyage.

It will be seen, on reference to the journal, that the system of moral

restraint and instruction adopted, and the vigilance with which it was

enforced, prevented the sailors from making any aggression until the

voyage was more than half over; and that they were invited then only by

the weak state of the prison; presenting scarcely any opposition to

those who might wish to gain admission. It will also appear that some of

the sailors were removed from the ship at Hobart Town, Van Diemen’s

Land, for disorderly behaviour towards the prisoners: these men were

afterwards sent up to Sydney, as prisoners, in another ship, but on

their arrival there were set at liberty, without a single question being

asked them, or the slightest investigation instituted. I confess I was

desirous that the affair should have been inquired into at the time,

when the allegations might have been confirmed or disproved by the

testimony of those who had been eye witnesses of the transactions for

which those men had been arrested; and satisfactory evidence of the

circumstances of the whole voyage would then have been obtained, those

who were most competent to give information being on the spot. This is

the more to be regretted, because the practicability of moral

reformation in those ships would have been proved beyond the possibility

of cavil, _if the prisons be properly secured, and the Surgeon

Superintendent supported in the discharge of his duty, and in his

endeavours to accomplish an object of such desirable and paramount

importance_.

It is not from the impregnable structure of the prison in a convict

ship, that the great object of transportation is alone to be sought. The

arm of the law, which deprives the convict of the power of committing

mischief by sanctioning the coercive bolt or massy bar, can be as

effectual in restraining the licentious seaman from transgressing the

bounds of duty, and committing acts of violence towards the persons

confined; such are powers of ordinary and every day efficacy. Will they,

in the silent hour of night, in the lowering retreat of meditated guilt,

reach the mind in its secret recesses, and confine its aberrations from

rectitude? No: recourse must be had to means much more potent,—boundless

as created space, which will embrace all the deviations of the soul,

and, with a shepherd’s care, prevent its dangerous wanderings. Religious

influence, the enlivening, all-pervading force of conscience must be

called up to aid in checking criminal intention, to recall grave

recollections of the past, and turn the soul to chastening, penitent

reflection. Vain are all endeavours to amend, unless error be struck at

by a fundamental, unshowy energy, to clear away effectually the noisome

weeds that choke the paths of virtue.

Impressed with this conviction, I endeavoured to establish a moral and

religious system of management on board the ships intrusted to my care;

and as nothing of the kind was before in use[31], I feel ambitious to

witness the general adoption of that, or any improvement upon it which

will have the same humane purpose in view. Many well disposed and

charitable persons, I know, have expressed their apprehension that

permanent good from such a system cannot be established within the short

period in which a voyage is performed from England to the colony: and

that even could it be effected, the impression would be speedily effaced

by the corrupting association with those less under the influence of

reformation there. It must be allowed that the objection may have some

weight, but I hope not so as to discourage the laudable attempt; for,

were the good resulting even partial, operating to the reformation of a

few only, yet how gratifying must it be in such a case! When, however, a

better supported, more extensive trial is given to the system, I trust

it will appear that the harvest will be bountiful, and will well repay

the toil of cultivation.

The following facts may aid in giving incitement to future exertions of

the same kind. In my recent visit to New South Wales, I availed myself

of every means to ascertain how the prisoners who went out with me in

the Neptune had behaved since their arrival, and I could hear of nine

only, out of one hundred and seventy, who had been called before the

magistrates to answer for ill conduct, during a period of two years and

a half. Several of the number were recommended to situations of service

immediately on their landing, and I did not learn that any of them had

merited turning away. One individual came upwards of forty miles to see

me, and brought a very satisfactory testimonial from his master, which I

laid before the Governor, and requested that some indulgence might be

given him; with which His Excellency most obligingly and readily

complied. So far it is gratifying to know that the attempt at

reformation, however feeble, has not been entirely without success.

On the subject of employment for prisoners during the voyage, much might

be said; but its necessity and advantages are too numerous, and would

render observation tedious, however appropriate. If employment be found

useful in the Hulks, why should not its benefits be also tried on board

of convict ships? Convicts will certainly be better fitted for

industrious occupations in the colony, having been so employed upon

their passage thither; and as they are sent to that country not to be

maintained in idleness, why not inure them to habits of application

previously? In the colony they have inducements to work,—food and an

annual stipend; let them on board ship be so employed, as that a portion

of what they earn may revert to themselves, and they will work

cheerfully. Prisoners engaged at work are as much under the power of

restraint as ever; they will, it is presumed, be much more orderly; nor

can any reasonable fear be entertained of their contemplating mischief,

when steadily occupied with what they must be convinced is intended to

benefit themselves, especially if, at the same time, the effects of a

moral and religious system operate upon their minds.

Of the same nature is the establishment of a school, not alone for

children belonging to convicts, but for the instruction of junior

offenders; for it will be found in almost every case of this

description, that early depravity and ignorance are concomitants. The

generality of young culprits derive their hardening career in crime,

almost entirely from the want of religious instruction: it must

therefore be not only wise and humane, but also a pleasure demanded by

prudence and sound policy, to furnish them with the means of gaining

moral instruction from its source, by teaching them to read that best of

books, the Bible. Neither should those children be left without regular

employment: they also will long enjoy the blessings thus arising from

habits of industry.

Every one who has an interest in the welfare of the colony, as well as

the friends of humanity, must feel some degree of anxiety on the subject

of convict management, previously to their entering on those duties

which are prescribed by their sentence. With regard to males, less

concern is usually entertained, from their capability of sustaining

severity of punishment, if necessary, in a higher degree; but as to

females, corrective applications of that nature cannot be resorted to,

to produce reformation of life. In proportion, then, as the difficulty

of applying penal treatment exists, the more is prevention requisite to

preclude its necessity: but unfortunately this is too little regarded;

and to this circumstance may be, in a great measure, attributed that

deplorable state of habitual dissoluteness, aggravated by heinous

indulgence in open violation of decency, which prevails in the voyage to

New South Wales.

The evil consequences to the colony, from this abuse, are innumerable.

The continual disturbance of social connexions, and disregard of moral

obligation, are not its only bad effects; the great hope of colonization

is defeated: population is undoubtedly checked in its advance by such

pernicious practices. This fact is proved by the concurrent testimony of

all nations, and various arguments have been urged in illustration: but

the correctness of the opinion needs very little to maintain its

accuracy; the position may indeed be pronounced incontrovertible. In

reply to this it may be said, that population in New South Wales has

increased in a ratio greatly beyond that of any other country. The

extraordinary salubrity of the climate, and other circumstances, may

have contributed in a great degree to that remarkable increase, which

appears unquestionably without parallel even in the periods of American

colonization; but, were female virtue better protected, and cherished

with becoming care, there can be not a shadow of doubt, that the

population would be much greater than it is even now.

But the state of morals in the colony is not such as to encourage a hope

that this respect for the sex is likely to be a prevailing sentiment, at

least for some time to come; and, until that change shall have arrived,

it is feared that few of the corrupt females who are transported thither

will become reformed there: indeed it is hardly to be expected that they

should, unless their minds have been fortified by salutary management

previously to their arrival, as afterwards there is not a moment allowed

them for reflection. The same violent passions which raged uncontrolled

before and during the voyage, so far from subsiding, are worked up to

excess by wretches of the very worst description, many unhappily of

their own sex, who beset them with temptation to their utter ruin.

From the best information I was able to obtain, it appears that the

proportion of males to that of females is somewhat above _six_ to _one_.

It will be asked, perhaps, Why is not marriage encouraged, and how

happens it that any woman can remain single for any time, the proportion

being so small? Marriages certainly do take place to the utmost extent

of propriety; and investigation of the circumstances in many cases, if

deemed necessary, would, it is apprehended, painfully prove that those

limits are frequently exceeded. Marriages are continually taking place

between men and women whose wives and husbands are living in England;

some, it is asserted on good authority, in the colony under fictitious

names. But although this breach of law is punishable at home by

transportation, little inquiry or complaint is made concerning it in the

colony, and punishment is seldom inflicted for its commission, owing

probably to its being rarely brought under judicial cognizance by those

concerned.

Marriage occurs also very often for the purpose of getting a woman out

of the Factory; that is, letting her loose on society, without the least

intention of the parties living together, save for a few days to cover

appearances. It is known to happen sometimes, that such connexions are

formed by making a contract beforehand, that the woman, wife so called,

should appropriate a certain quantum of the wages of sin for the support

of the man who thus espouses her! In this state the degraded victim of

sensuality is often transferred from one master to another, bandied

about in this shocking and unnatural way, until the mere figure is all

that remains of the human being. Should intemperance, which is always

observable in such cases, and excessive extravagance, impair or totally

destroy the scanty means of the _protector_ for the time being, the

female so engaged looks without concern on the misfortune of which she,

perhaps, has been the principal cause, and if another paramour offer,

she attaches herself to him with indifference, and so the career of

guilt meets with but little interruption.

In several conversations on this disgraceful subject with some well

informed men, whose judgement in other matters is deserving of respect,

I was assured that no remedy of immediate efficacy could be applied to

these evils; that time alone could weaken their malignancy, and that

they would wear out of themselves! This shocking conclusion, almost

amounting to despair of their eradication, was made by men who daily

witnessed these vile practices, and lamented their enormity and

prevalence, fully sensible of their miserable consequences.—But the

performance of these odious tragedies is not left entirely to the

convicts. Others, whose stations ought to claim some degree of respect,

seem to vie with those degraded captives for the pre-eminence in guilt,

many of them proudly wearing the laurels thus _honourably_ acquired: for

these enormities, which depravity has made familiar, even palliation is

insolently attempted, and that too on grounds sometimes unpardonably

offensive to decency.

I have heard men of reputed good sense and discrimination, both here and

in New South Wales, argue with much earnestness, and a feeling of

exultation which I would willingly consider not real, that the females

who have been under the management of the _Ladies’ Committee_ generally

behave worse during the voyage, and after their arrival in the colony,

than those from any other prison whatever; inferring that all the

disinterested and zealous exertions of that amiable association have

been unproductive of any the least good.—Among those in the colony

holding, or at least professing to hold, this opinion, a general feeling

seemed to prevail, that all efforts made to form those unfortunate

females to habits of virtue, propriety, and industry, were nugatory, and

calculated rather to injure than promote the interests of the colony.

The very endeavours to prevent illicit intercourse upon the voyage were

treated as if they had a tendency to render the women unfit for their

proper situations in the places to which they were going! They

maintained that the character of these females is utterly reprobate,

beyond the possibility of being reclaimed, and that it is therefore

useless to think of reforming them,—that they should be abandoned to

their wretched lot.

So long as persons holding such sentiments, and acting upon them, would

render the subjects of their obloquy incapable of improvement by

rekindling their profligacy and contributing to their misfortune, and

that such conduct can be followed as an example, so long indeed it is

vain to hope that any instruction in prisons can effect permanent

reformation. It would not be doing violence to probability, nor, I

think, exceeding the bounds of charity, to assert that the principles by

which such abettors of vice are actuated are referable to licentious

propensities, which the most _liberal_ of them would, perhaps, be

unwilling to acknowledge as belonging to himself. Why then would

they,—for the evidence is strong against them,—desire to continue those

wretched women in a state of debasement? Is it that themselves may be

allowed to pass unnoticed amidst the general depravity which must be the

certain consequence of such a state of things? These men would be stout

advocates for the baneful principle of _utility_ described by _Hume_, or

the still more pernicious one of _general good_ so strenuously

recommended by _Godwin_.

While such principles are deemed the basis of moral law, it is

impossible to calculate on any other than the most destructive results,

as no other can be reasonably expected from a demoralized population,

amongst whom honesty and decency are in perpetual violation. Can any

reprobation, then, be thought too severe, of that unmanly, ungenerous

conduct, which, by fostering vice in the advocacy of self-example, would

render a future generation more immoral than the past, and lead to

complete anarchy of all the rational powers of the mind? It has been

well observed by a late anonymous writer, that “whoever weakens in

society the veneration for morality, is a traitor to his country; and

whoever diminishes the influence of religion in the world, as a rule of

daily conduct, is a traitor to his God.”—The language is as forcible as

the truth is incontrovertible.

The assertion, however, on which so much stress is laid,—that the women

from Newgate behave worse than those from other prisons,—is deserving of

some examination. If we reflect on the state of society in London, and

how infinitely more numerous are the opportunities to crime and its

consequences than elsewhere; the dissoluteness which always exists in a

crowded metropolis; and the daring depravity that there marks the

gradations of offence; if we carefully survey the life of “a regular

London female thief who has passed through every stage of guilt, who has

spent her youth in prostitution, and her maturer age in theft and

knavery; whose every friend and connexion are accomplices;” one of those

who are “the refuse of the capital; that is, the very worst description

of criminals, committed for the very worst excesses of crime; women who

had been frequent inmates of a prison, and with whom thieving was ‘their

daily bread:’” if these circumstances, I say, are duly considered, they

must be admitted, by every unprejudiced individual, to form grounds of

difficulty in the endeavours to reclaim offenders from their wickedness

in such a society, beyond, greatly beyond the less hardened habits of

provincial iniquity; and should it even appear that the former behave

much worse than the latter on board a ship, it can afford very little

cause for ill-judging malignity to triumph. Could aught else, even then,

be shown, but that the time those unfortunate women were under the

guidance of the Ladies’ Committee was too short for the completion of

their benevolent purpose? Is it reasonable to expect that long-rooted

habits of idleness and vice, impressed on the mind from the first

dawning of perception, can be broken through, and the salutary work of

reformation perfected in the few weeks or months they may have been

favoured with those pious attentions? But should it be proved that the

conduct of the women from Newgate is at least as good, if not better

than what is exhibited by those from the country prisons, to what cause

shall be ascribed an alteration so rapid, and so little to be

expected;—an alteration amounting to almost an entire change of natural

disposition? It is impossible for scepticism, or prejudice itself, to

assign any other cause than the influence of moral precept so kindly and

unceasingly inculcated by the Committee.

The women from Newgate formed one third of the entire number sent out in

the Morley; and I can declare conscientiously that their conduct was

_not worse_ than that of an equal number of the others: on the contrary,

the effects of exhortation were more observable in their manner, in a

very remarkable degree; and during the voyage, whenever it was found

necessary to rebuke any of them, the mere mention of any of the Ladies

of the Committee had the effect of bringing them to a sense of their

error, which in almost every instance was attended with profound sorrow,

a circumstance certainly not always observable in their companions. I

can further assert that there was infinitely more riot, wickedness, and

abandonment, amongst _seven_ women who were permitted to accompany the

soldiers that formed the guard in the Neptune in 1817, than amongst _all

the female convicts_ in the Morley put together: nay, in stating this

fact, I feel that the latter are injured by being brought into such a

comparison.

In a conversation on this subject at Van Diemen’s Land with Doctor

Bromley, who was Surgeon Superintendent in the _Lord Wellington_, he

assured me that he had less trouble in that ship with the women who came

from Newgate than all the rest. Three of these very women on their

arrival were received into the service of Mrs. Governor MACQUARIE, where

their conduct was so uniformly correct as to merit that lady’s

approbation; a circumstance so uncommon, that she felt it a duty to

acquaint Mrs. _Fry_ of the happy change. Mrs. Macquarie was prevented

from writing by ill health at the time I left the colony, but desired me

to communicate the fact as she had herself intended. That several of

those who went out in the Lord Wellington behaved very ill after their

arrival, does not militate against the system of reform adopted by the

Ladies’ Committee; nor would my opinion of its invaluable efficacy be

altered in the least, were I told that every one of those who were under

my care has been ruined in the colony, because I know what a state of

depravity prevails there. Minds much stronger than theirs have yielded

to temptation; and in no country is that evil more concentrated and

destructive than in New South Wales.

With respect to the rising generation in the colony, I have not

sufficient data to enable me to speak with certainty; but it may be

stated that, notwithstanding the boundless depravity of the parents, the

children, generally speaking, are well disposed, given to industry, and

of religious habits. They are represented as being passionately fond of

instruction; and many of them, who are not blessed with the means of

obtaining information from more direct and legitimate sources, known to

make successful efforts to learn to read and write, without any

assistance.

This statement so much resembles that of a bitter fountain producing

sweet water, that credence to its accuracy can hardly be expected; yet I

had opportunities of satisfying myself of its truth in four or five

instances; and I was told of a great many others on testimony which I

have no reason to disbelieve, but I would not be pledged for their

authenticity. An anecdote related by the Reverend Mr. _Cartwright_, when

he and I accompanied the Governor in his late excursion to the newly

discovered country, may be relied on. This gentleman is the resident

clergyman at Liverpool, where on Sunday evening he usually gives

instruction to all the children who choose to come to his house. It

happened on one of those occasions, that heavy rains had caused an

overflow of the river, so as to render it impossible for any one to wade

across, consequently he did not expect any of those children whose

parents lived on the opposite side: to his astonishment, however, some

of them came. On inquiring how they got over, it appeared that they had

tied their clothes upon their heads, and swam across, intending to

return also in the same manner when the instructions they came to

receive were finished.

In more advanced age, these principles are further developed, and a

great many of the young men show themselves desirous of avoiding the

errors of their parents: but the impression on my mind, from the best

information I could collect, is not so favourable with regard to the

grown-up females, who, probably from want of that instruction which is

more accessible to the other sex,—I speak of the lower classes,—are

corrupted by baneful association and bad example. In this particular,

indeed, the statements of some respectable persons, desirous rather of

extenuating than magnifying, are strongly corroborative of the fact. It

was not extraordinary, they assured me, to see a young woman of this

description living a few months, first with one man, then with another,

and so on with five or six, fixing on one at last, whom she thought

proper to marry.

In this state of midnight gloom, which envelops this new and interesting

portion of the world, who will not delight to find that the light of the

Gospel is about to shed its refulgence, to dispel the dark clouds of

ignorance and irreligion which blind the understanding, and, withering

in their deadly shade the energies of the mind, pervert the noblest

impulses of the heart? Bible Societies, benevolent associations, and

schools both public and private, are springing up in the midst of this

unhallowed chaos, by means of which the pure principles of Christianity

will be disseminated, and their benign ascendency over corrupt

temptations diffused through many hardened and profligate minds.

The British public generally, and the colonists individually, are under

the most heavy obligations to those persons whose active benevolence and

liberal contributions have laid the foundation of establishments on

which general prosperity and happiness will eminently rise. It would be

as unjust as difficult to conceal the distinguished leading exertions of

_the Honourable Judge-Advocate_ WYLDE, in forming these excellent

institutions: to his transcendent talents and unwearied zeal every lover

of social happiness must hold himself indebted. For it is impossible

that any man possessing the faculty of reason, be his rank and fortune

ever so great, can feel indifferent as to the state of the great body

politic: it is, indeed, those of large property who should feel the

strongest interest in the propagation of those principles which alone

can render possession even for an hour perfectly secure. What would be

the consequence in that respect, were a whole community to shake off all

the restraints imposed by the consciousness of moral obligation?

A retrospect of the revolution in France will furnish an answer to this

question,—one which ought to fill the most insensible with awful

reflection. The baneful writings of Bayle, Voltaire, Rousseau, Hume, and

others of that stamp, prepared the minds of the French people for the

reception of infidelity and irreligion; and their impious labours were

further aided by those of Helvetius, D’Alembert, Condorcet, Raynal,

Diderot, Paine, &c. These enemies of God and man achieved their hellish

work under the specious pretext of LIBERTY, or “_perfecting the new

philosophy_.”—Accordingly, Christianity was abolished; the existence of

the Deity denied, and even the mention of His Name, except in blasphemy

and execration, proscribed and punished with death, by a law which the

rage of impiety kept in force nearly four years. At that dreadful

period, marriage was declared an unsocial monopoly, whilst by another

_law_, as if such enactments could decide the truth of the case, death

was declared nothing but an eternal sleep. What an admirable salvo to

the guilt of the catastrophe!—And what has been that catastrophe? They

murdered their legitimate King,—butchered the nobility and clergy,—and

sluiced the scaffold with the blood of thousands of every age, sex, and

denomination. Property of every kind abandoned, became the spoil of

those assassins, who without regard to “general good” divided the whole

among themselves.

With those scenes of blood fresh in his recollection, who in this

country could rest in security, or feel assured that either his life or

property was out of danger, if every wretch or ruffian deaf to religion

and moral duty were allowed to follow the impulse of guilty passion,

without alarm, or dread of the Divine vengeance? Farewell the influence

of law and justice when such is the state of immorality in a populous

community, that impiety is the order of the day, and no regard is paid

to the dictates of conscience and its obligations. Even Voltaire, when

among his associates, used to prevent them from uttering impious and

blasphemous expressions before servants, “lest,” said he, “they should

cut all our throats.”

No person, surely, will pretend to say that physical power and daring

intrepidity do not exist in as great a degree in England as they ever

were known in France; or that an infuriated mob here would be less

dangerous than in that country. This narrowed view of the question

extends so far only as regards worldly prudence: if examined more

broadly, the duty will be found paramount and imperative on all, to

guard with jealous care the principles on which our social edifice is

raised, and which under the British Constitution deservedly excites the

admiration of the world. But if the bases of this glorious structure be

shaken or impaired, that which is the production of the aggregate wisdom

of ages must crumble into dust. Society could no longer then exist,

there being no bond to link together the disunited members; there would

in fact be nothing for which existence could be desirable. Odious

anarchy would stifle in blood every feeling that could render our

labours useful, and life a blessing: the affections between parents,

children, and brethren, would be deadened, and the treasures of

friendship devastated by selfish rapacity.

“Crimes of every description,” says Dr. Colquhoun, “have their origin in

the vicious and immoral habits of the people; in the little attention

paid to the education of the inferior orders; and in the want of some

plan for regulating the morals of this useful class of the community.”

No one, it is presumed, will controvert the truth of this sentiment; but

while the necessity of _educating the inferior orders_ is generally

admitted, very few come forward willingly to engage in that important

task, nay, I will call it positive duty. Should it be attributed to the

lower class as a _crime_, that their parents were too poor or too

profligate to procure for them the benefits of education, sufficient at

least to enable them to peruse the Scriptures, and thereby be impressed

with the obligations of Christianity,—their duty to God and their

neighbour?

It will be said, perhaps, that the inculcation of those duties belongs

exclusively to the Clergy. Persons maintaining this opinion are, I fear,

but little influenced by the true spirit of charity, although the

_letter_ or external signs of it may be familiar to them. It is, in

truth, the duty of every one who is qualified for the task, whether

clergyman, or layman, whether Protestant or Catholic, Episcopalian or

Presbyterian, Methodist or Independent, or be his Christian creed what

it may, to instruct his fellow creature “in the way he should go,” and,

if found ignorant or erring, to put him right if he can: no sect or

denomination of Christians can, without manifest injustice, be excluded

from the labour of philanthropy.

Having described the condition of the females sent to the Factory at

Parramatta, it would be as unnecessary as painful to comment further on

the inaptitude of that establishment, in its present circumstances, to

produce any reformatory effects; particularly as a hope is confidently

indulged that the existing evils will soon be lessened, if not wholly

obviated, by the erection of another Factory in the same neighbourhood.

This building, which was expected to be ready for the reception of the

female convicts about last February, has given rise to expectations of

its utility very sanguine indeed, but in no respect exceeding what I

would look for, were it in the power of the local Government to ensure

its success commensurately with the design. The very liberal manner in

which His Excellency _Governor_ MACQUARIE has invariably come forward

with his purse, as well as patronage, on all occasions to advance any

measure conducive to public good, must convince every one of his

devotedness to the welfare of the colony over which he presides, and

which has undoubtedly acquired, under his administration, innumerable

benefits highly important and imperishable. But when the character of

those persons is considered, to whom of necessity, for want of better,

the execution of what by them are thought _trifling_ concerns is

intrusted, an apprehension will strongly intrude, that many of the evils

now complained of in the old Factory will be transferred to the new,

under the _care_ of the present overseers.

As matters now stand, to indulge a hope of reformation, if the present

management be persisted in, would be only to court disappointment: the

necessity of substituting some other more efficacious must be evident.

With a view of contributing some little assistance to accomplish this

most desirable end, I beg leave to offer a few suggestions, which it is

hoped will be considered as given disinterestedly.

I would therefore venture to recommend that choice be made of some

elderly man and woman of respectability, in England, whose moral and

religious character can be steadily relied on, to be sent out and have

charge of the new Factory. Two such persons might readily be found, who

for a moderate remuneration would discharge the duties of that important

trust with fidelity; and being independent of local connexions,

prejudices and interests, their appointment would at once put an end to

those iniquitous collusions by which the vile projects in speculation,

and the whole tissue of existing abuses are maintained.

Strongly convinced by experience of the necessity and advantages of

classification, I would advise its adoption as a preliminary and

indispensable step to success, distinguishing thereby the inmates in

reference to the degrees of reformation they evince. A code of rules

should also be prepared, of which undeviating observance ought to be

enforced. Those recommended by the Committee for the improvement of

prison discipline, &c., are admirably calculated to ensure all the

benefits that can reasonably be hoped for from imprisonment, and with

some modification, which local circumstances will require, may be

generally adopted.

Some enlightened and well disposed persons whom I had frequent

opportunities of consulting on this and other such subjects, approved

much of the above suggestions, knowing how greatly their application was

demanded by necessity; and their approbation was gratifying,

particularly that of one gentleman, who is decidedly the first authority

in the colony for legal information and personal experience. This

gentleman, whose name has been already mentioned, strongly advised a

Factory to be established remote from every town, in the _Cow-pastures_,

as being on every account most eligible; where there could be no

opportunities for the persons confined to procure spirits, or be

deteriorated by the seductive influence of temptation, or vicious

example. In that establishment, which should be altogether probationary,

the prisoners, sent from the ships as they arrive, might be detained,

each individual being obliged to wear an uniform dress distinguishing

her class, which ought not to be laid aside during the time of

continuing at that place.

It is also recommended that none of the inmates of the probationary

establishment should be assigned as servants directly therefrom; but as

their advancement to reformation is proved, and they become

distinguished for good conduct, they should meet with encouragement.

This may be shown by removing them to the Factory at Parramatta, which

ought to be made a depôt for the well behaved only, whence the settler

might have servants supplied them on making proper application. These

arrangements being in perfect accordance with the sentiments of persons

best acquainted with the true state of affairs, and the wants of society

in the colony, are respectfully submitted for consideration. The

measures are few and simple; but if they be adopted in time, and duly

enforced, little doubt is entertained of their producing a change

beneficial to the whole community.

CONCLUSION.

From the foregoing arguments, grounded on facts, which I am satisfied

are irrefutable, the following inferences may be deduced:

_First._—If the object of transportation to New South Wales be only the

_punishment_ of the criminal, it is seldom effected in the proportion

contemplated by the law; as many of those deserving the most rigorous

treatment live there much more comfortably than they could have done at

home, and realize large fortunes: while others, with not a tenth of

their turpitude, are consigned to misery and ruin.

_Secondly._—In the case of Females, the _merited quantum_ of punishment

is equally uncertain in its infliction, though always excessively

severe, owing to their abandoned mode of life.

_Lastly._—But if the scope of transportation be, what it _ought to

be_,—the _reformation_ of the offender; it has, with the greater number

of males, been unsuccessful; and with regard to females, it has very

rarely indeed been attained.

APPENDIX.

_Reflections on Seduction._

Seduction, in the various baneful consequences hence arising to society

and its moral disposition, is so intimately connected with the scope of

my present general inquiries, that I cannot forbear to give a brief

sketch of some of its most obvious evils, though a full description of

the character would far exceed the limits of my present purpose; and to

describe the pernicious consequences of that crime in all its baseness

of effect would, I candidly confess, require abilities far superior to

mine.

The British Constitution, and the salutary statutes made for the

protection of life and property, have for many ages, one delights to

contemplate, become deservedly the boast of every true-born Englishman:

under the benignant influence of their mild atmosphere, the most

extensive field has been opened for the cultivation of all those virtues

that aggrandize a state, or can render private life amiable; and the

combined powers of both, have united to excite the admiration and call

forth the envy of surrounding nations.

The politician and the moralist behold with equal pleasure the glorious

era, which a few years since successfully crowned our efforts to break

the detested chain that tyranny had forged for the general enslavement

of the world. The lover of science and the patient investigator of

nature’s hidden laws, in other countries, must acknowledge with mingled

feelings of pleasure and regret, that in no climate under heaven does

genius flourish as in Britain; and under the influence of this

impression, and in quest of knowledge, they are travelling daily from

every corner of the globe to our favoured shores.

While, however, we exultingly contemplate our advancement, and that

distinguished eminence we have risen to in the scale of kingdoms, shall

we inertly fail to examine if some wheel or new power might not yet be

added, that would tend to the improvement and perfection of the vast

machine? In the multiplicity of legislative measures prudently enacted

by our forefathers for the defence of our property, and the protection

of liberty both civil and religious, is it not surprising that they

should have thought it unnecessary to pass some law to guard, and some

barrier to fence around, that greatest and most interesting of national

glories, the chastity of our daughters? To me, I confess, this

oversight, as it seems to be, is utterly unaccountable.

Let any dispassionate and well regulated mind take into active

consideration the injury arising from the commission of those crimes

which the statutes denominate petit and grand larceny, or even felony,

with the overwhelming misery into which thousands of amiable and

industrious families are plunged by the destructive seducer, and

conscientiously declare which of them he thinks most pernicious to the

peace and general interests of society; or which of those abhorred

characters he would least dread to suffer from himself:—whether he would

rather be deprived of part of his property, or have a lovely daughter,

the pride of his life, ruined and debauched. Let us suppose a case as

every day it too unhappily occurs in real life.

The miserable father of a family, worn down by misfortune, poverty and

ill health, has to look upon a virtuous wife, and an interesting group

of innocent children, whom his utmost industry cannot save from the

merciless pressure of squalid rags worse than nakedness, and starvation

worse than death. He beholds them pining away without a friendly hand

near that will supply a morsel of bread, or even administer the

imaginary relief of consoling pity: their reiterated cry for food

pierces his agonized heart, and in feelings bordering on distraction he

rushes forth to procure for them a temporary respite from the grave,

determined to seize the first eatable that falls in his way: perhaps he

breaks into a neighbour’s field, whence he carries off a sheep, or a

pig, to protract the immediate destruction of his perishing family. For

this, on detection, the laws of his country may sentence him to death,

or at best the timely mercy of his gracious Sovereign may remit the

punishment to transportation.

On the other hand, mark the seducer. Destitute of the principles of

religion and humanity, he may wantonly, and with relentless soul,

destroy the happiness and peace of a whole family, in basely undermining

the virtue of an innocent and valued daughter, the flattering, brightest

hope of their life,—the prop of their age, and on whose talents or

industry the whole family were perhaps then immediately depending for

bread. Insidiously and cautiously has the infamous attack been carried

on; and if foiled in his first cruel attempt, her faith must be shaken,

and her understanding perverted by specious arguments, wicked sophistry,

and the deadly poison of irreligion, before she can be led by

imperceptible degrees into guilt, misery, and certain present perdition,

whatever fears may belong to the hereafter. What punishment can be found

for the miscreant who thus deliberately and maliciously poisons the

heart’s blood of unoffending innocence? Why, in nine cases out of ten,

none at all! Humanity stands abashed.—Justice answers not.—Pity, in

surprise and indignation, exclaims, Can it be?—In England too?—Can it,

alas! be true?

Cold-blooded monster! with refined cruelty he often selects his intended

victim from that station where fortune has denied not only the luxuries

but the necessaries of life; and where the want of those comforts can

only be compensated and rendered tolerable in heaven’s choicest

blessing, a virtuous and contented mind. The abandoned sensualist knows

but too well the poor man’s inability to vindicate in a court of law the

violated purity of his once innocent and happy daughter. But what

redress could he obtain even were he opulent? An action can only be

brought against him who has unmercifully shut out every ray of future

joy, for the mere loss of his child’s personal services, quaintly

denominated “_per quod servitium amisit_;” and at best recover but a

paltry adjudication in money for that which is above all price:—a sorry

remuneration, truly, for such a loss! It is in fact a cruel mockery of

justice, and the triumph of crime.

Contrast the narrow and grovelling spirit that seems to characterize

this most miserably defective principle of legal justice, with that

noble independence and manly defence which dictated MAGNA CHARTA and the

BILL OF RIGHTS! It is far from my intention to cast the slightest shade

on the memory of our ancestors, many of whom thought no price too great

for liberty, often indeed purchased even with their own blood, that they

might bequeath it to posterity unsullied and unfettered, the legitimate

birthright and glory of their future sons. But where our forefathers

have done so much for us, shall we not, in kindred spirit, attempt to do

something for ourselves, or for our children? Shall we suffer the

seducer to walk forth in open day, or at the midnight hour, to carry

devastation into every cottage, and to ravage with impunity the sacred

sanctuaries of virtue? Forbid it justice,—forbid it humanity,—forbid it

Heaven!

I cannot believe that one father in a thousand has ever turned his mind

to the contemplation of the direful effects on society, of indulgence in

this ferocious and unlawful passion; or the general voice of mankind

would have been raised to hunt from their abodes the hellish tiger in

human form: the hand of power, too, would surely have been lifted up to

shield the innocent from his fell assault. Might not the seducer, in

strict justice, be classed in malice prepense and principle with the

most sanguinary murderer? On comparison, it is my firm conviction that

the former is the author of more pain and misery to the great family of

mankind.

In the sketch of such a character my labour might be in some degree

facilitated by a short account of one who, a very few years since,

figured very conspicuously in the gay world; and presuming, therefore,

on the idea, I venture to insert it. Would to God! that the miseries I

shall have to unfold existed only in imagination; but, alas! fancy will

have no place in the working of the dark picture.

The detail was written by the gentleman himself, principally during a

twelvemonth’s confinement from a wound received in a duel. Of this he

ultimately died; but not before the hideous forms of vice and crime had

been exposed to his terrified view in all their naked deformity. At the

time this melancholy scene took place I was in India; and on my return a

packet containing his journal, and an elegant copy of the Bible, which I

had many years before advised him to peruse, was put into my hand by a

friend of his. This bequest, with the following letter, was marked for

me by his own hand a few days before his dissolution:

“——, May 15th, 1816.

“However widely, my much valued friend, the theory and practice of

our lives may have differed, I flatter myself that at this moment

our sentiments are the same. That there is a just God, I never

once doubted; and that he is merciful, and willing to pardon the

sins of the penitent, it is now my interest firmly to believe. My

career is nearly finished—I have languished long, and been very

miserable; for, until within a few months, I never dared encourage

a hope of pardon from Heaven; and although my mind is become more

tranquil, I still fear that I am a great way from salvation,

though I feel I am but a step from the grave. I can now see that

your reasons for avoiding me were just, but I think they were

cruel. Great God! What have I been—what am I to be? Gracious

Heaven! If the very little you knew of me could make you avoid me,

what will you think after reading my journal? I have often

intended to burn it—I wish you would do so: yet, it may be useful

in warning some fellow-creature of the damnation which the labours

of my life had industriously prepared. If you think so, dispose of

it as you like.—My false shame is all gone. I care not now who

knows my wickedness. But should you ever make it public—oh! spare

my family—my beloved, wretched mother:—happy for us both had I

never been born. I wish you were now with me; but, it was my

misfortune through life never to have a friend—and I neglected Him

who in death would not have forsaken me.

“I leave this, together with the journal of my perdition, and

the blessed book you so long ago recommended, in the care of L.

G., who promises to deliver them to you. Have I fallen so low in

your estimation that you exclude me entirely from calling you

friend? Alas! I never had a friend. My proud heart could never

sue for any man’s pity; but I beseech you not do deny me yours.

O pray for me.—May your life be as happy as mine has been

miserable.—Adieu,—Adieu!

“—— F——.”

The only regret I feel in giving these interesting memoirs to the public

is the fear, indeed almost the painful certainty, that the wounds of his

respectable family may thus be made to bleed afresh, in the recollection

of his errors. I persuade myself, however, that they will acquit me of

any unworthy motive, much less wanton desire to inflict unnecessary

pain: rather a thousand times would I pour into their afflicted bosoms

the healing balm of friendly sympathy and pity; and whilst I pursue the

dismal narrative, my own heart will remain no stranger to the feelings

of sorrow due to the fate of my unfortunate hopeless friend.

Before I proceed to any extract from this curious biography, it may not

be out of place just to glance at his early life and education.

F—— was the only child of a country gentleman of large fortune, and

ancient family, still more distinguished for morality and virtue. At the

early age of five years, this youth gave extraordinary proofs of mental

energy, having in the short space of four days committed to memory one

hundred and five verses of the New Testament, which he used to repeat to

his father without a single mistake. With increasing years his genius

expanded, and evinced a readiness and power of conception clearly

reflecting talents of the first order. It was natural for parents to be

proud of such a child, and to determine that his education should be

fitted to his capacity. A tutor was accordingly provided, well qualified

for the important task, who discharged the duty with honour and

fidelity.

At fourteen, having read the whole of the classics, he was already

qualified for entering the university, and made considerable progress in

mathematics, logic, history, and painting. Being considered too young

for college, a year was suffered to elapse, during which he was

instructed in music, dancing, and fencing, and also became acquainted

with French. In every thing he undertook, the utmost expectation was

realized. Thus unusually accomplished, he went to college, and remained

there five years; during which period his industry appears not to have

relaxed; his avidity for knowledge, on the contrary, increased until he

had drunk deeply of every source of information and knowledge.

On his return home he applied himself with such diligence to the

cultivation of science, particularly chemistry and astronomy, that his

health became impaired, whole nights being spent in a little observatory

that had been constructed under his own direction.

That his mind should have all the polish it was capable of receiving,

his father wished him to travel; to which, as in every thing else, he at

once implicitly yielded. The short peace of Amiens furnished an

opportunity for gratifying this wish, which they were the more anxious

to see carried into effect, as an elderly gentleman of great scientific

and literary attainments, about to proceed to Paris, offered the

advantages of his experience and protection.

Dazzled with the lustre which accompanies the high-sounding term

“philosopher,” the parents never inquired into the religious sentiments

of the man whom they had chosen as the companion of their highly-gifted

son: this sad inadvertence, in the issue proved his ruin. The religious

principles, in truth, of this man, if religious principles he could be

said to have, hung so very loosely about him, that he might be said to

live in a sort of practical atheism: every action of his life evinced

his belief that there could be no God, nor Governor of the universe;

openly abjuring all dependence on that great Being by whose goodness and

mercy alone he was permitted to exist.

The first lesson he endeavoured to impress on the generous mind of his

pupil, was the non-existence of any omniscient eye to observe, or any

omnipotent arm to punish; and that, as life was short, wisdom chiefly

consisted in filling it up with as much pleasure as possible. Here it

must be acknowledged he was treading upon tender ground; for though

religion is by far the most important part of education, in the present

case it had been the only one that had been neglected, and here alone

could the assault have been made with any hope of success.

Introductory letters and other necessary documents being procured, the

travellers commenced their journey. They were amongst the first from

England who arrived in Paris, where their introductions, together with

that politeness for which the French people have ever been remarked, and

the unbounded festivity which always attends cessation of hostilities

between contending nations, ensured them a reception not less hospitable

than distinguished. Endowed with uncommon talents that gave an

irresistible charm to their conversation, the society of both was

courted; and neither of them showed much reluctance to drink deep at the

voluptuous spring, which too often contaminates the morals of the

unreflecting and gay in all countries, and by which the higher ranks of

the French have been found to be particularly corrupted.

The accomplishments and agreeable qualities of the reputed philosopher

made the pupil at first look up to him as an oracle; but, often

staggered by his openly avowed sentiments of infidelity, he could not

immediately reconcile that philosophy which destroys all distinctions

between right and wrong: for, although his religious education had been

so little attended to, still that little furnished many

stumbling-blocks, which for a long time could not be got over; and he

could not easily be brought to think that debauching the wife, or

seducing the daughter, of a friend or benefactor, were not crimes. In

maintaining these opinions, his arguments were often troublesome and

embarrassing to the learned sceptic, who would either artfully evade the

question, or decline the argument by some dogmatical assertion, which,

if it did not convince, at least always silenced his young opponent.

Encircled by temptation in every form of allurement, seduced by pleasure

the most bewitching, and blinded by passions at all times strong, but

now more highly still inflamed by the sophistry and example of his vile

associate, he, in a fatal moment of precipitate impulse, destroyed the

peace of one who had treated him with the tenderness of a son,

committing, it must with pain be confessed, the most deadly injury that

human friendship can suffer, or hellish wickedness inflict—the violation

of the marriage bed.

Thus was the noble faculty of reason disgracefully sacrificed on the

polluted altar of sensuality. In a few hours, however, reflection

returned, and conscience began to resume her empire, and remorse to

sting his soul. He would have made the only reparation in his power by a

speedy retreat; for he could not, as he declared, again look on the

friend whom he had so injured, without the danger of annihilation. His

own words are forcibly expressive:

“The sense of this crime,” he says, “was twisted round my heart like a

serpent of hell, and the recollection still freezes my soul. The

enormity of my guilt was magnified by the unexampled hospitality and

friendship I experienced from them both. Their confidence was unlimited,

and I repaid it with base ingratitude. For weeks afterwards an idea

haunted me, that the first time the husband’s eye met mine, the wrath of

God would consume me from the face of the earth. I would have fled from

the fatal spot, as from a devouring pestilence; but I foolishly allowed

myself to be overruled by W., who has been the murderer of every soul

that had the misfortune to fall in his way. This is not the language of

invective, nor do I think it uncharitable, for his crimes are of so deep

a dye as to put all power of exaggeration at defiance. Most men

endeavour to frame some excuse for their errors, but even this negative

virtue W. never arrived at: he had no other motive for his villainy,

than the malignant pleasure of seeing misery widely diffused.”

Upwards of a month had elapsed before this execrable old monster W.

could give up a pursuit almost as infamous, though not quite so

destructive in its effects, as that which scaled the debasement of his

pupil, and the amiable family in which they had both been entertained

for nearly three months. Several circumstances had occurred to render

any longer stay in Paris exceedingly irksome, and he prudently suggested

to his pupil the propriety of visiting Bourdeaux, whither they retired

somewhat abruptly.

On their arrival in that city, they found that letters of introduction,

which they expected from England, had not arrived: this they thought

would occasion no great inconvenience, as W. was quite at home here,

having formerly spent some years amongst the learned and the dissolute,

to whom he now repaired: but, to his disappointment, some of them were

dead, and many of the rest dispersed in various parts of the world. The

travellers were therefore obliged to seek that accommodation at a hotel,

which ill-requited hospitality had so readily afforded them in Paris.

The innkeeper had a young niece of interesting appearance, who was on

the eve of being married to a man whom she tenderly loved. Returning

from the house of God, where she had been attending divine worship, and

where she had received the holy sacrament, the unsuspecting girl in a

luckless moment fell under the basilisk glance of this veteran in

iniquity, who immediately destined her for destruction. Flushed with the

greatness of his project, _so worthy of a philosopher_, he hastened to

his less hardened companion, and unfolded the grand scheme with as much

self-exultation as if he had discovered a new planet. The generous mind

of his pupil, once noble and pure, was not yet sufficiently corrupted to

hear the diabolical disclosure without indignation. He declared that the

vengeance of a guilty conscience still rankled in his heart; for,

although he had used every effort to stifle or dispel the painful

remembrance of his crimes in Paris, he was tormented continually. He

applied the golden rule of “doing to others as he would that others

should do unto him,” which for the present put an end to the discussion.

Meanwhile the expected letters from England had arrived, which procured

them admission into the higher walks of life, and apparently diverted

their attention from meaner objects: but this was not the case. W. was

inflexibly bent on robbing the innocent girl of what could not enrich

him, yet would leave her “_poor indeed_.” An unforeseen accident

favoured his purpose. The intended husband was taken dangerously ill;

and W., who had studied medicine not only as an amusement but also as an

accomplishment, was induced, by motives of pure humanity of course, to

give his opinion in consultation with other physicians. He used often to

call at the Inn to console the weeping bride elect, and by enumerating

the favourable changes in her lover’s complaint he succeeded in securing

to himself her friendship and gratitude. Sleepless nights and anxiety of

mind brought on an affection of the eyes, for which, in a friendly way,

he gave her a prescription, and most kindly offered his further

services. She got better; but her general health declined, and he

recommended her removal to some convenient cottage in the outskirts of

the city, where she might have the benefit of country air, and the

society of her friends.

This was the master-stroke of his plot. The proud virtue of his pupil

was now greatly subdued; but, to fit him for his infernal purpose with

double certainty, W. engaged him in a party of pleasure, from which he

took care he should not return sober, and, after inflaming his lustful

passions, introduced him to the chamber of his unconscious victim. Thus

was accomplished the ruin of a virtuous girl prepared for destruction by

the _medicinal_ agency of this broker in turpitude.

During the perpetration of this outrage, the unhappy sufferer was in a

state of total insensibility; but when the effects of the drugs that had

been given to her began to subside, and returning day exposed her

situation, in the arms of a man whom she had never before seen, her

heart died within her. The involuntary instrument of her undoing

endeavoured to restore her; but his efforts proving ineffectual, he

dispatched a messenger for W., who on his arrival administered some

stimulus, and carried his pupil to a _cock-fight_. They both returned in

the evening, for the purpose, it would appear, of repeating the scene of

the former night. They found the wretched girl recovered from her swoon,

it is true; but they also found that her reason had forsaken the

polluted tenement: a state of the most deplorable idiocy had supervened!

Here the journal is abruptly broken off, and in no part of it is the

infamous W. again mentioned, except in a note on a slip of paper written

in red ink and affixed with wafers to the last leaf, which may best,

perhaps, be inserted here.

“The conduct of W., from the unfortunate day I quitted England with him,

was such as I could not have expected from a fiend of hell. His breath

was contagious, and he never opened his mouth but to wither and

consume.”

How soon after this base transaction the travellers separated, I have no

means of ascertaining; but it is certain they did not leave Bourdeaux

together; for, about three weeks afterwards, W. returned to England, and

his unfortunate pupil embarked for Marseilles, where he arrived with

satisfaction after a short voyage. His time at this place appears to

have been spent more rationally and usefully than it had hitherto been

in France. His remarks on the state of literature and science, together

with the “empty-headed, would-be philosophers,” as he terms them, of

Marseilles, are strikingly demonstrative of the force of his mind when

directed to any worthy pursuit. After a stay of about three weeks, (he

is seldom minute in dates,) he embarked for Toulon, where he staid ten

days, and made a drawing of the harbour and fortifications, unobserved

by any of the officers or soldiers by whom he was always attended.

An English ship about to sail for Naples accommodated him with a

passage, for which, he observes, the Master would not accept of any

recompense. His own words are significantly expressive on this occasion:

“This rude but worthy son of Neptune possessed the inestimable treasure

of a truly honest English heart; insensible of personal danger even to

hardihood, but feelingly alive to another’s woe; often bestowing a

generous tear, the tribute of his manly heart, on affliction’s monument.

In the breast of this unlettered man there was moral virtue enough to

outweigh all I ever met in France put together.”

His voyage to Naples was tedious, and fraught with disaster. He says,

“We had a fine view of Genoa and Leghorn, the weather being beautifully

fine; the sky serene and cloudless, water perfectly smooth, and scarcely

any wind. The prospect at midnight was inexpressibly sublime. The

majesty of the moon slowly emerging from the deep, its diameter to

appearance immensely increased; the peculiar brilliancy of the stars,

together with awful flashes of lightning, and meteors shooting in every

direction, exhibited a scene exquisitely grand.” The day following he

has this remark, “The face of nature is changed, and the hand of God is

now stretched out to punish my guilt.”

His fears of an approaching storm must have been unfounded; for the next

day he gives an animated description of the appearance of Genoa, and the

people who crowded to the beach to see the ship as she passed slowly

within a league of the shore. The calms and westerly currents, which for

many months in the year prevail on that coast, prevented them from

making any progress for some days longer, when a storm visited them in

reality. His fearful conscience represents every adversity as the finger

of Providence pointed against him.

On the 9th day after leaving Toulon he says, “My evil destiny still

pursues me. The enchanting beauty in which nature smiled so lately, is

now changed to the alarming appearance of offended Heaven. Lowering

clouds gathering from every point threaten an awful crisis to both fear

and hope.

“The wind increasing to a hurricane, drives the ship with impetuosity

irresistible; and the dreadful heaving of the sea, as the watery

mountains recede from their convulsed pursuers, leaves a tremendous

chasm resembling the abrupt valleys interposed between highest alpine

summits, which speedily meeting in all the agitation of confused

conflict portend immediate destruction.

“The mariners, dismayed, can no longer exert themselves for the safety

of the crazy vessel; a wave has just broken over her and washed away two

of them, who, but a moment before, were blaspheming the sacred name of

their Maker. Alas! alas! who dares stand in his dread presence!

“An awful crash, accompanied by faint cries ‘She is sinking’, has just

reached my ear, and thundered on my soul. O God! how badly prepared!—A

few minutes explained the disaster. A body of electric fluid struck the

foremast, and shattered it into pieces, at the same moment depriving one

of the sailors of life, and bruising two others most deplorably. The

flash of lightning was so painfully vivid as to deprive most of us of

vision for several seconds: but, to a man stationed on the bowsprit to

look out ahead, it disclosed an object quite appalling—a rock towards

which the ship was driving with fatal rapidity. A frantic shriek

communicated the terrific fact.

“Despair seized on every heart, for the helm had ceased to produce its

wonted power in directing the ship’s course. The Master, mistaking our

situation, could not be persuaded of the danger until another immense

sheet of lightning again exposed the dreadful evil. The helm was moved,

and endeavours made to turn a remnant of sail which had not been blown

away. A ray of hope appeared for a moment to illumine the drooping

hearts of the seamen by the cry ‘_She goes off_’, which was eagerly

caught and repeated by all.

“The lightning now becoming more vivid and frequent, contrasted with the

intense darkness of the night,—the roaring of the wind,—the foamy

rushing of the sea,—the noise of the ropes, and the indistinct cries of

the despairing mariners, together with reiterated peals of thunder

rolling over our heads for an amazing length of time and ending in a

tremendous crash, gave existence to the most frightful picture that

human imagination is capable of painting, or perhaps that human nature

could sustain.

“Fear, when guilt is the cause, is indeed shocking. My apprehensions of

danger may magnify the evils by which I am likely soon to be

overwhelmed. I have tried to pray, ‘but the Lord laughed at my

calamity.’ I have tried to meet death with philosophic composure; but,

shaken by the angry voice of an avenging God, and involved in chaos,

what sinner can affect to be unmoved?

“Another wave of vast magnitude has broken over the vessel, which I

thought had actually sunk her never to rise again;—she was certainly a

long while ingulfed, and, as I thought, completely upset. The undaunted

Master endeavoured to cheer us with a hope that, in the event of the

vessel foundering, our lives might be saved by the boat; but in the last

afflicting crush that resource was dashed to atoms, and the mainmast

broken in two. The lightning serves to unveil that wretchedness which

darkness had so kindly concealed, and the sight is absolutely

indescribable:—every thing floating about and dashing in furious

confusion. When the lightning bursts upon our view, it appears to rend

the heavens, leaving in its stead a wide gaping gulf of boundless and

unutterable gloom.

“The long-wished-for day begins at length to appear, and the horrible

spectacle it unfolds defies all attempt at description. The fury of the

wind is unabated; by its force alone, large bodies of the waves are torn

off, and driven over the vessel like frightful cataracts, and in smaller

quantities resembling a violent shower of snow, so completely

obstructing vision, as to render it impossible to see any object

distinctly at two yards distance.

“Towards 9 o’clock, the storm began to abate, and a moment’s pause was

given to contemplate the wreck. It was now discovered that when the

mainmast broke and fell on the deck, it bruised the intrepid Master to

death. The sight of the body of this amiable man will have a place in my

recollection for ever. The mast having fallen on his head, shattered the

skull, several pieces of which were driven into the deck so firmly that

they could not be removed; and several portions of his brain and hair

were still sticking to the wood!

“Within a few feet of this fatal spot, the mangled remains of him who

had been destroyed by lightning were rolling about by the violent motion

of the vessel, and so dreadfully bruised that not a feature of the human

being could be traced. His two unfortunate companions, who were struck

at the same time, being unable to shift for themselves, were discovered

drowned; the right side and thigh of one of them being literally burned

to a cinder.”

In the foregoing narrative, the stinging reproaches of a guilty

conscience appear to have been keenly felt, as is manfully acknowledged

as well as beautifully expressed. I shall not trespass on the reader’s

attention with a further detail of the miseries of this shipwreck. By

means of a fishing-boat my friend landed at Leghorn, where he suffered

from an attack of inflammation of the lungs, which again put his life in

danger. Being little satisfied either with his attendant physicians or

visitors, he was induced to embark in a small coasting vessel for

Naples.

Of his adventures in this gay city the journal makes but scanty mention,

though he seems to have entered freely into the dissipation of that

enervated and most licentious court, and was twice engaged in duels.

After four or five months spent or rather killed in this manner, his

golden dreams and extravagancies were interrupted by the arrival of a

special messenger with directions from his father to return forthwith;

but without assigning any reason for an order so unexpected and

peremptory: with the summons, however, he cheerfully complied, and in a

few days afterwards embarked for England.

The winds were propitious, and the ship had a speedy passage; but the

pleasure he had promised himself in visiting his native shores was

greatly alloyed by the infirm state of health in which he found an uncle

whom he affectionately esteemed, and by whom he had been adopted in

early life. Having no family, this venerable old gentleman had promised

from the beginning to make F. his heir, which pledge he was now desirous

of redeeming. The regard he bore him was further shown by a desire to

see him settled in the world before he himself should leave it.

There lived in the neighbourhood for upwards of forty years an old

gentleman of exemplary piety and benevolence, who had two daughters,

both highly accomplished. Brought up and educated in their father’s

house, the uncle of F. was acquainted with their dispositions and

behaviour from infancy, and was therefore well convinced that they both

possessed every excellent quality that could contribute to a husband’s

happiness, or ensure a blessing on single life.

With one of these it was his ardent wish to have his nephew united, and

he candidly communicated to him the affair; but at the same time he

assured him, that although this union would greatly tend to smooth his

path to the grave, yet would he impose no restraint on his inclination:

let his decision be what it might, no change should be made in his will.

My friend was deeply penetrated with this noble behaviour of his uncle,

and declared that it should be his study to prove himself not

undeserving such disinterested friendship; and if, on further

acquaintance, he did not find it utterly impossible to bestow his

affections on either of the ladies, he would endeavour to make himself

agreeable to one of them.

The irregularities which F. had committed abroad had reached the ears of

his parents, and given them many hours of sorrow. As their love for him

was unbounded, their fears lest his happiness might be shipwrecked

amongst the dangerous quicksands of temptation on the one hand, and

indulgence in vicious passions on the other, were painfully increased;

and they zealously exerted themselves in all their influence to promote

the views of his dying uncle.

The behaviour of their son left them no cause now for uneasiness. He had

conversed several times with each of the ladies, and declared himself

much pleased with them both; but his partiality appeared to predominate

in favour of the elder. His friends constantly importuned him to

expedite the arrangements necessary for the completion of their

happiness: to these entreaties he would answer, that however anxious he

felt to identify their wishes with his own happiness, yet while his

uncle continued in so doubtful a state, he would not make that darkness

which he was persuaded the loss of so good a friend would long fix on

his mind, more visible by unseasonably lighting the torch of Hymen. This

answer, while it demonstrated his growing attachment for the young lady,

and the grateful respect he had for his uncle, was highly pleasing to

all parties.

Meanwhile his time was spent either in friendly visits to the young

ladies, or in attendance on his uncle, whose health declined so fast

that none of his friends any longer entertained a hope, and in a few

days he paid the awful debt of nature. On this occasion F. was a sincere

mourner: indeed his grief was often extravagant. To divert his mind, and

to dispel that darkness which he himself had predicted, a journey to

London was recommended, which he consented to with some reluctance.

Under the influence of grief, that elasticity of mind and naturally

complaisant manner for which he was ever distinguished, entirely forsook

him. Irritable, petulant, dissatisfied with himself and every thing

around him, he suddenly left the country without giving any notice to

his parents, or to her whom it was thought his own voluntary choice had

determined to be the partner of his joys and sorrows.

Three weeks had already elapsed, and all inquiries to discover his

retreat proved unsuccessful. At length he addressed a letter to his

mother, in which was inclosed another to his bride-elect, informing them

of his being in London, and in somewhat better health and spirits than

when he left the country; and offering some apology for his conduct.

Both his letters were answered by the ladies, and each had questions to

ask, which in their turn they requested to have answered: but a

fortnight was suffered to pass before he could find time or inclination

to reply; and when he did, his letters were evasive and unsatisfactory.

His father wrote to him and urged the performance of the promise he had

made to his uncle, which he assured him was registered in heaven, and

was in effect a solemn oath: he finally enjoined him to return to the

country. But his condition was considerably altered since his father’s

last mandate reached him at Naples; the estate left him by his uncle was

more than sufficient to meet the wants of prodigality.

No longer dependent on his father’s bounty, which heretofore had been

liberal even to profusion, he now ventured to treat him with less

ceremony, and determined to remain in town. His father’s health had long

been imperceptibly declining; and this act of unseasonable and

unaccountable ingratitude affected him greatly, under the conviction

that self interest, devoid of affection, had hitherto directed the

obedience which had been manifested by his son.

The mind of F. had now shaken off all the gloom and sadness occasioned

by his uncle’s death. He had corresponded very regularly for some months

with the young lady to whom it was expected he would soon be united, and

his letters of late were soothing and affectionate. She received one

from him, stating that the death of a friend in Ireland would make his

presence there indispensable; that he would return in three weeks or a

month at most, and then “he hoped she would crown all his wishes, and

make him happy.”

It is truly painful to contemplate the deep villainy this letter was

intended to conceal. Instead of visiting Ireland, as mentioned in his

letter, he allured an unthinking creature, “not quite fourteen,” the

daughter of a respectable tradesman in London, to accompany him to

Scotland, under a solemn promise that he would marry her there. He had

calculated that three weeks would be sufficient to glut his savage

appetite, when the credulous victim of his passion was to be disposed of

to any of his brutal companions, or in any other way that he could most

conveniently get rid of her.

When he disclosed his real purpose, she fell into a state that

occasioned him some apprehension. She fainted away, but of this he

thought little; and, having profited by experience, he was able to act

the part which the infamous W. had performed for him in Bourdeaux:

accordingly stimulants were speedily procured and administered. On

recovering, he tried to cajole her, but his sophistry effected nothing.

Frantic with disappointment, and goaded by despair, her fury became

ungovernable, which he allowed to rage uncontrolled; tritely remarking,

Whatever is violent cannot last long. He was not in this mistaken, for

she fell senseless at his feet, and blood foamed from her mouth.

It was now deemed prudent to call in a professed practitioner, who on

his arrival pronounced her dying from the rupture of a large

blood-vessel of the lungs. This intelligence startled F. not a little.

His humanity was not entirely dead; besides, he was by no means

ambitious of being thought her murderer. He inquired eagerly whether any

thing could be done; to which he was answered in the negative.

In this state of alarm he evinced more presence of mind as well as sound

therapeutical knowledge than the regular practitioner; for, the medical

man having given her over, F. begged of him to open a vein as a _dernier

ressource_, which it appears the other never thought of, as the only

means by which her life could be prolonged. Finding that the cure would

be tedious, or rather that she was likely to linger long, he placed her

in lodgings, and provided a more intelligent medical attendant. He was

prevailed on by her tears and entreaties to remain with her six weeks,

which was double the time he had at first proposed.

Arriving at his lodgings in town, he received intelligence he had not at

all expected, and which he was ill prepared to bear. The very day he

left London a messenger arrived to inform him, that his father was

dying, and desired his immediate attendance. The servants had been

instructed to inform all inquirers that their master had gone to

Ireland. Day after day messengers arrived, and still the same answer was

given. His afflicted mother, suspecting some cheat, determined to travel

to London herself, to awaken the slumbering soul of her undutiful son:

to her also the same answer was returned; nor could she obtain any hint

or clue that might enable her to discover his retreat; she was

convinced, however, that he had not gone to Ireland. Although fatigued

and almost exhausted by the journey, she could not be persuaded to take

any refreshments in town, but hastened back to console her dying

husband.

Uncertain what part of Scotland he should visit, and what stay he might

make at each place, he had directed his confidential servant not to send

any letters after him. A large packet had accumulated in his absence,

which the servant put into his hand at the time he communicated the

above unwelcome intelligence. Glancing over the letters, his attention

was arrested by one in deep mourning, in the hand-writing of his mother;

he guessed the rest. It contained an account of his father’s death; but

shuddering at the apprehension of its contents, he could not muster

resolution sufficient to break the seal.

His carriage was still at the door,—he threw himself in, and ordered the

coachman to drive to the country; but the horses were fatigued, and

fresh ones must be procured. To fill up the awful interval occasioned by

this delay, he again looked over the packet of letters, and found three

from his affianced bride. He opened and read one, which was filled with

sweet murmurs and gentle upbraidings for his increased delay; the other

was to the same effect; but the third was serious and important. It

informed him of the death of her father, who, she said, “expired in an

instant, without a moment’s warning.”

This news he declared thrust into his bosom like a dagger; and, to make

his cup of misery overflow, the certainty of his own father’s death,

with the reproaches of his last breath which he expected, only were

wanting: his mother’s letter would have removed all doubt on this

subject, and no man was more impatient of suspense, yet he durst not

venture on the perusal; every time he took it up his heart misgave him,

and his soul seemed to die away.

In this most awful uncertainty, with the letter in his hand, he

continued till he arrived at his father’s gate. From a servant who came

to open the carriage he learned the fatal tidings, that his father had

been buried several days, and that his mother was now exceedingly ill.

This was too much for endurance,—the dreaded letter fell from his

paralysed hand, and he sunk down overwhelmed by racking remorse. The

servants conveyed him to his chamber, where he lay some hours in a state

of stupor, which was succeeded by a fever, or some disease that entirely

deprived him of sense for upwards of three weeks. The journal, however,

was discontinued for as many months.

The following is the first paragraph written after his recovery. “My

dear mother and the angelic E. visited me this morning, and neither of

them upbraided me! Their forgiveness and pity were in effect refined

cruelty. I was prepared to hear their keenest reproach,—but their

kindness took me by surprise, and wounded me to the soul. My mother

wished to amuse me and attempted to be gay, while tears insensibly

rolled down her cheeks. She said I must now look upon E. as my own, for

her father had bequeathed her to me, and appointed me sole executor of

his will. She was going to say something of a last wish of my father’s,

when she fainted away.

“Miserable, infatuated wretch that I am! not all the guilty pleasures of

a thousand years could compensate for the torture my soul endured at

that moment.—Sainted father! methinks I hear thee in the clouds

thundering thy abhorrence of my ungrateful and impious neglect, and

threatening me with the vengeance of indignant Heaven. With what crimes

am I not debased?—Innocence murdered—human happiness wantonly sacrificed

in every spot I could meet with it—my family dishonoured and my life

defiled by every species of hellish debauchery—the end of my being

perverted—the intention of my Creator defeated by my own monstrous

deeds—Alas! alas! I see nothing but an interminable gulf before me—God

frowning from above—and the jaws of death and hell extended wide, ready

to receive me—and close upon me for ever!”

Who, after reading this soliloquy, would expect to find the author of it

again resuming those vicious practices which had occasioned him such

intense misery? How humiliating to a proud but virtuous mind is the

contemplation of human nature and reason so degraded and debased!

Notwithstanding his remorse and apparent repentance, which there is

every reason to believe were sincere at the time, poor unhappy F. had

not resolution to relinquish his licentious mode of life; not, he said,

that it afforded him any pleasure, but because the presence of virtue

confused, and in his own imagination reproached him. The remembrance of

earlier days, when his growing accomplishments not only put forth the

tender buds of hope, but exhibited fair flowers approaching fast to

perfection—the joy of his family, and the admiration of his friends—now

withered and decayed, his heart became callous, and he ingloriously

yielded to the empire of sin and the slavery of passion without a

struggle. Brooding over a thousand evils real and imaginary, his mind

assumed the darkest gloom, and gradually sunk into savage melancholy.