Never was Norfolk Island so gay, or its inhabitants so joyful, as on the 25th May, 1840. A proclamation had been issued by Maconochie, describing the pleasures and festivities he contemplated. On this occasion he resolved to forget the distinction between good and bad, and to make no exception from the general indulgence; but he entreated the men to remember that on the success of this experiment his confidence would greatly depend: he warned them to suppress the first tokens of disorder, and by retiring to their quarters at the sound of the bugle, prove that they might be trusted with safety. On the morning of the day, the signal colours floated from the staff, crowned with the union jack: twenty-one guns, collected from the vessels and from the government-house, were mounted on the top of a hill, and fired a royal salute. The gates were thrown open, and eighteen hundred prisoners were set free, and joined in various amusements, of which Captain Maconochie was a frequent spectator. Eighteen hundred prisoners sat down to dinner, and at its close, having received each a small quantity of spirits with water, they drank health to the Queen and Maconochie--three times three for Victoria and the captain rent the air. They then renewed their sports, or attended a theatrical performance. New scenery, dresses, music, and songs, contributed to the hilarity of the party. The performances were, the _Castle of Andalusia_, in which the comic powers of the prisoners were exhibited to their companions, a variety of glees and songs, the tent scene of _Richard III._, the _Purse, or the Benevolent Tar_, and finally the national anthem.[235] At the termination, no accident had occurred; the gaol was entirely unoccupied; no theft or disorder had disgraced the day; and thus the notion of Maconochie seemed to be illustrated by the experiment. The contrast with the past system created the greatest amazement, and the description of this extraordinary scene excited universal laughter. The long habit of connecting the notions of crime and punishment, of guilt and misery, was thus violently shocked. Its novelty gave to the policy of Norfolk Island the air of delirium: the disciplinarians of the ancient regime raised their hands with astonishment. The place, once of all most hateful, painted by fancy became an elysium: employment enlivened by plays, rum, and tobacco, was described as a cheering vicissitude in a life of crime. It was not difficult to see, that a reaction would follow, and that any untoward accident would produce a recoil. It is said, that the prisoners at Norfolk Island deeply sympathised with their chief: that they combined in a society for mutual reformation, and that the paper which contained the outlines of the plan was headed by the well-known motto of the Irish liberator-- "Hereditary bondsmen! know ye not, who would be free, Themselves must strike the blow."