their prosperity awakens no alarm, because they
are lost amidst a dense population, and are surrounded by emigrants, who
by similar vices or virtues are not less opulent, but far more numerous.

The first sound that fell on the ear of the prisoner, when he stood
before Governor Macquarie, tended to animate his confidence: having
enquired of his treatment through the voyage, he then informed him that
the past was left to oblivion, and that the future would determine his
condition,[120] This was often no vain promise: the sentiments he
expressed were, more or less, recognised by the preceding Governors. The
Commons, in 1812, gave his policy their sanction, and Earl Bathurst,
though with more reserve, favored the same opinion. Macquarie never
disguised this system of mercy.[121] When transportation only
contemplated the establishment of a colony, this system of oblivion was
useful; but the passage from the bar of justice to liberty, was
sometimes not longer than the passage from England: and those who rose
to wealth, by their character and career, gave to public retribution the
aspect of grimace.

On the appointment (1814) of H----, as superintendent of convicts, an
office then of greater _real_ power than any other in the penal
department of the British empire, Macquarie, says Bigge, gave an
enumeration of his merits; and continued frequently to publish in the
_Gazette_ eulogies on his character. This is slily sketched by the
Commissioner himself, and with more precision by Dr. Reid, who was on
the spot at the time. Mr. H---- was a convict, and was placed in office
at Sydney, but breaking into the King's stores, either in person or by
deputy, and taking away a bale of slops, he was re-transported to
Norfolk Island, where he won the government notice by his diligence as a
dealer in pork, and was recommended by the commandant to Macquarie. This
man exercised his functions in the Turkish style: he rigorously
depressed all unseasonable attempts at virtue; but nothing was
impossible to those who were able and willing to pay, for whom he was
accustomed to act as banker. His manners were coarse to loathsomeness,
and he addressed the prisoners in language which outstripped their
own;--"eclipsed them in wickedness, and in revolting filthiness." Nor
was his domestic position more respectable: his wife was one of two, too
bad for endurance, who were forced from the colony, and sent to England
for reformation.[122] Such was the man