Before proceeding to the main point under consideration, the diminution of the number and the degree of punishments on board ship, I must entreat officers not to allow themselves to be misled by the very mischievous fallacy of supposing that any of the various substitutes which have yet been proposed for corporal punishment are one whit less severe than those so long established.  It is well known to officers of experience that this powerful engine of discipline may be rendered not only the most effective, but essentially the most lenient, and when duly reported and checked, far more likely to contribute to the peace and comfort of the men themselves, than any of the specious but flimsy substitutes alluded to.  Solitary confinement, for example, I take to be one of the most cruel, and, generally speaking, one of the most unjust of all punishments; for it is incapable of being correctly measured, and it almost always renders the offender worse.  It prompts him, and gives him time to brood over revengeful purposes; it irritates him against his officers, and if long continued almost inevitably leads to insanity and suicide.  All the beneficial effects of example, likewise, are necessarily lost; because the solitary culprit’s sufferings, horrible though they no doubt are, never meet the eye of the rest of the crew, nor, indeed, can they ever be truly made known to them, while he himself, when he quits his cell, makes light of his punishment.  But not one man in a thousand, even of our hardiest spirits, can maintain this air of indifference at the gangway.  And although it must be admitted that a man, at such moments, can feel no great kindness to his officer, the transient nature of the punishment, compared to the prolonged misery of solitary confinement, leaves no time for discontent to rankle.  I never once knew, nor ever heard of an instance in which a corporal punishment, administered calmly and with strict regard to justice and established usage, was followed by any permanent ill-will resting on the mind of a sailor, either towards his captain or towards the service.

It happened to me once, when in command of a ship in the Pacific Ocean, to have occasion to punish a very good seaman.  The offence was in some degree a doubtful one, but, upon the whole, I felt it my duty to correct it rather sharply.  On mature reflection, however, I began to suspect I had done wrong; and on joining the commander-in-chief, some weeks afterwards, I laid all the circumstances of the case before him, and begged him to tell me fairly what he thought.  He examined the details minutely, cross-questioned me about them, and, after some deliberation, said, that although I had the letter of the law with me, I had acted hastily, which in this instance was acting unjustly; for had I waited a little, the true bearings of the case must, he thought, have made themselves apparent.  This judgment of Sir Thomas Hardy squared but too well with my own feelings upon the matter, and doubled the shame I was already suffering under.  From that hour to this, I have never ceased to catch with eagerness at any suggestion which I thought might contribute to save deserving men from a similar misfortune, and well-disposed officers from the fatal errors of precipitancy.  A little incident has perhaps had its effect in quickening these speculative ideas into a practical shape.