Chapter 2

A Tale of Two Convicts: Hannah Brown (1795 - 1835) & Thomas Marslin (1787-1854)

The early 19th century was a time of rapid change in the colony of New South Wales. What had begun in 1788 as a remote penal outpost was, by the 1820s and 1830s, beginning to take on the contours of a settled society. As the colony expanded, so too did the challenges for its people—convicts and their children, emancipists or freed convicts, free settlers, and the Indigenous communities whose lands were being overtaken. Within this shifting world, the lives of Hannah Brown and Thomas Marslin—my great-great-great-grandparents—offer a window into a society still finding its way. Their stories would unfold in markedly different ways, revealing much about the formative factors that shaped early colonial life.

Macquarie’s Sydney

When Hannah Brown arrived in New South Wales in July 1814, the colony was under Governor Lachlan Macquarie, a leader with an ambitious vision to reshape the colony from a penal outpost into a thriving society. Often hailed as the “Father of Australia,” Macquarie was determined to create a structured, self-sufficient community, and his administration undertook ambitious public works projects to achieve it. Under his leadership, roads, bridges, hospitals, and marketplaces sprang up in Sydney, laying the foundation for a more organised colony. Macquarie was also intent on expanding the reach of the colony, encouraging exploration beyond the Blue Mountains and establishing inland settlements such as Bathurst, which marked the beginning of sustained European expansion into the interior.

Macquarie’s building projects were central to this transformation of the colony and provided convicts with both labour and, in some cases, a path to redemption. From government buildings to churches such as Hyde Park Barracks and St. James Church, Macquarie relied heavily on convict labour for nearly all aspects of construction. Historian Grace Karskens, in The Colony, described how convicts were seen “not as individuals but as a labour force to be exploited and controlled,” a perception that limited their freedoms despite their essential role in the colony’s growth. This dual approach—offering convicts the chance to contribute while enforcing strict control—characterised much of Macquarie’s vision. Manning Clark observed that Macquarie’s desire for progress was “tempered by a deep authoritarian streak.”

Macquarie’s colony offered convicts like Hannah Brown and Thomas Marslin a measure of hope, but it was a system defined by strict control and all too quick to penalise those who stepped out of line. Convicts lived with the knowledge that their liberty was conditional—granted one day, revoked the next. Punishments were often public and severe. Men and women could be flogged, confined, or in some cases hanged. Women, in particular, were sometimes paraded through the streets in iron collars or had their heads shaved as a mark of disgrace. Even minor offences—answering back, failing to meet work expectations, or absconding briefly—could lead to solitary confinement, bread-and-water rations, or removal to a harsher penal station. This was not merely discipline; it was a culture of control, designed to instil fear, obedience, and submission in a population already worn down by poverty, transportation, and exile.

Blaxland, Wentworth, and Lawson crossed the rugged Blue Mountains in 1813, paving the way for inland settlement. Notably, Lawson, impressed by Thomas Maslin’s skills as a horse handler, later hired him for subsequent expeditions, relying on his expertise to manage the horses essential to their journeys.

To the Coal River Penal Settlement

Harsh rules and limited options shaped life for female convicts like Hannah. In a system where women were overworked, poorly protected, and under constant surveillance, minor infractions could escalate quickly. With few legal avenues for support, some women resorted to familiar acts like theft—sometimes out of necessity, sometimes as a form of protest or escape. Details of Hannah’s early years in Sydney are scarce, but eventually she was sent to the Coal River Penal Settlement near Newcastle for a three-year sentence, most likely for theft. Even relatively minor offences, particularly those involving theft from the government or committed while still serving a sentence, were treated as serious breaches of trust. Secondary punishment, such as transfer to a remote outpost like Coal River, was a common and severe response.

The Coal River Penal Settlement was notorious for its harsh regime, a place where convicts were seen as needing to be “broken in body and spirit,” as Babette Smith describes in Defiant Voices. From June 1817 until June 1820, Hannah endured the isolation and relentless discipline that defined life in remote penal outposts. Opportunities for escape or connection were few, but some movement between settlements occurred through assigned labour, transfers, or unofficial visits by ticket-of-leave men. It was during this period—likely towards the end of her sentence or shortly after her release—that Hannah’s path crossed with Thomas Maslin, who had received his ticket of leave in 1819 and was then living and working independently. While no record confirms Thomas’s presence in Newcastle in early 1819, it is plausible that he travelled there, either with official permission or as part of his duties as a ticket-of-leave man. The records are silent on his exact movements, but the timing aligns with the likely conception of their son. Although no official record of the birth of their son survives, it is almost certain that he was born in 1819 or early 1820. The omission of such a record is unsurprising. Illegitimate children were often left out of formal documents, particularly if their fathers were not legally recognised. Nonetheless, it was common practice for children born out of wedlock to be given the surname of their father—especially if he acknowledged the child or played a role in the mother’s life. That Hannah named her son Thomas Maslin suggests a meaningful, if undocumented, relationship between them during that period.

Following her release from the Coal River Penal Settlement, Hannah Brown—often recorded as Ann Brown in colonial records—resumed her life in New South Wales. By 1820, she appeared in the colonial muster as single and residing in the colony, though it is unclear whether she remained in Newcastle or had returned to Sydney. By 1821, she was listed as a domestic worker in Sydney, holding a Ticket of Leave (No. 3-937), although the exact date of its issue is unknown. She appears again in the 1822 and 1825 musters, by then working as a housekeeper. During these years, there is no official record of her son, Thomas Maslin—a common omission for children born out of wedlock, especially those not formally baptised or acknowledged by the state. But Hannah likely kept her child with her. She would have known how to care for an infant. In her early life in London, she had helped raise younger siblings, including two baby sisters born in difficult circumstances just before her conviction. Years later, in Sydney, she would have drawn on that same practical experience to care for her own son—unseen labour that left no trace in the colonial archive, but it formed the centre of her life. Official records portray Hannah as a troublemaker, and such records often diminish women like her to a list of offences.

Lachlan Macquarie, often called the ‘Father of Australia,’ granted Thomas Marslin a Ticket of Leave in 1819.

Bound for the Blue Mountains

Meanwhile, the colony was pushing westward, marking a new era in New South Wales and shaping the course of Thomas Maslin’s early years there. The initial attempts to cross the Blue Mountains had ended in frustration, as explorers struggled to navigate the steep cliffs and dense bushland that confined the colony to a narrow coastal strip. In 1813, however, Gregory Blaxland, William Lawson, and William Charles Wentworth successfully navigated a pass that opened up fertile lands beyond the mountains. This achievement aligned with Governor Macquarie’s vision of expansion, setting the stage for further exploration and the eventual settlement of the interior.

In the years that followed, the need for labour to support this expansion grew, and the arrival of convicts like Thomas Maslin became essential to the colony’s progress. Transported in 1818 at the age of twenty-six, Thomas was assigned to the government stables, likely due to his background with horses in England. The stables were a key part of the colony’s infrastructure, and the role required skill and dependability. Thomas’s competence soon became evident, and he came to the attention of William Lawson—now the commandant at Bathurst—who was overseeing further exploratory missions into the grazing lands west of the mountains.

Lawson’s expeditions marked a turning point in Thomas’s life. These journeys were long and difficult, often covering unfamiliar country with limited supplies. Thomas joined several of them, where he likely proved himself not only as a capable horseman but as someone who could be relied upon under strain. His performance on these expeditions did not go unnoticed. Lawson later recommended him for a ticket of leave—a form of conditional freedom that allowed convicts to live and work in a specified district. Such a recommendation would not have been made lightly. It required a record of good conduct and the support of a settler or official willing to vouch for the man’s reliability.

Receiving the ticket marked a profound change in Thomas’s circumstances. Within a few years of landing in Sydney under sentence of transportation for life, he had earned a degree of independence and trust. Through steady work and skill with horses, he had built a reputation among men of standing in the colony. At some point during this period of conditional freedom, Thomas likely travelled to Newcastle, possibly for work or with permission to move between districts. It is there that he and Hannah Brown must have crossed paths. Hannah was still serving her sentence at the Coal River Penal Settlement and would not have had the freedom to leave without authorisation. While we cannot know the exact circumstances of their meeting, it is clear that their relationship began during this time. Like much of this period in their lives, the evidence is fragmentary, and the details must be pieced together from scarce and sometimes contradictory records. Even so, it was through this connection—tentatively established through available evidence—that my great-great-grandfather, Thomas Maslin, was conceived.

A ticket of leave similar to those issued to Thomas and Hannah, both of whom lost and regained their tickets of leave at various periods during their lives in New South Wales.

John Hospodaryk’s Convict Maid, performed by Battlers Ballad (Chloe and Jason Roweth, Bill Browne) at Humph Hall, Sydney, Spring 2012, tells the story of women sentenced to secondary punishment in the Parramatta Female Factory. A history teacher and songwriter, Hospodaryk’s passion for Australia’s convict past inspired him to craft songs that give voice to the struggles of those often overlooked in history.

A New Life for Hannah and Isaac Gadman

By early 1829, Hannah’s circumstances had improved. The Parramatta Female Factory—long known as a “marriage market” within the colony—became the unlikely setting for a new chapter in her life. Governor Ralph Darling had encouraged such unions by granting married convicts an extra day each week for self-employment, an incentive designed to promote stability and order among the emancipated and ticket-of-leave population. It was in this context that Hannah met Isaac Gadman (also recorded as Gladman), a stonemason transported to the colony in 1815 aboard the Baring. At the time of their marriage, Isaac was 55 years old and Hannah was 35. The couple were married on 2 February 1829 by the Reverend Samuel Marsden at St John’s Church of England, Parramatta. Marsden, a central figure in the colony’s religious and social life, often officiated convict marriages as part of the broader effort to instil discipline through domestic order. This union offered Hannah companionship and a measure of security. Isaac became both her husband and the stepfather to her young son.

The social dynamics of early colonial New South Wales shaped this marriage between Hannah and Isaac Gadman. The colony faced a significant gender imbalance, with male convicts outnumbering females by approximately six to one. This disparity led to the Parramatta Female Factory functioning as a “marriage bureau,” where women, particularly those in the First Class, were eligible for marriage after demonstrating good behaviour. Men seeking wives would apply and, upon approval, select from among the women presented. While women had the right to accept or decline a proposal, the process was often swift, and choices were limited. For Hannah, marriage to Isaac, a skilled stonemason 20 years her senior, offered a pragmatic path to stability and respectability. Such age differences were ordinary and unremarkable at the time. While the gender imbalance meant that women were in demand as wives, life opportunities for single emancipated women, especially those with children, remained quite constrained.

Hannah’s husband, Isaac Gadman, was a stonemason who likely provided economic stability for Hannah and her son, Thomas. From 1829 to 1835, the family lived together in Kent Street, Sydney, where Isaac continued his trade. These were the most secure and settled years in Hannah’s life. The work of stonemasons was in high demand as the colony expanded, and Isaac’s skills contributed to both the physical growth of Sydney and the stability of their household. Their life together was likely one of modest means, but establishing a steady home represented a significant achievement. Despite Isaac’s emancipation, his social standing remained limited. Convicts who had earned their freedom were still regarded as outsiders by many free settlers, and the couple would likely have encountered lingering prejudice. Nevertheless, Isaac’s trade afforded him a measure of respect within the convict community and provided Hannah and her son with a safer, more secure environment than she had previously known.

Between 1829 and 1835, Thomas Maslin lived with his mother, Hannah, and her husband, Isaac Gadman, on Kent Street in Sydney. These were his formative years, spanning the ages of roughly eleven to seventeen. Daily life would have included helping his stepfather at the worksite or around the household, running errands for his mother, and mixing with other children in the area—playing in the laneways or venturing down towards the harbour. He most likely attended a local school, as education was becoming more accessible in Sydney during this period, particularly for families with some stability and means. If so, he would have gained basic literacy and numeracy skills, which may have supported his later success in life. Church attendance would also have been part of the weekly rhythm. St John’s, where his mother had married, or one of the nearby Methodist chapels, may have shaped his early exposure to religious life. Given his later identification as a Methodist, it is likely that he began attending services regularly with Hannah and Isaac during these years.

By the early 1830s, Hannah Gadman’s health had begun to decline. Although the specific nature of her illnesses is not recorded, she suffered recurring bouts of poor health throughout the decade. On 9 March 1835, she died suddenly at the age of 41. As was customary in the case of unexpected deaths, a coroner’s inquest was held. It took place at the Prentice Arms on Kent Street, not far from where she had lived. The jury concluded that she had “died by the visitation of God,” a standard verdict at the time indicating death from natural causes. Two days later, Hannah was laid to rest in the parish of St James in Cumberland, Sydney.

There are few surviving records of Thomas Maslin’s life after this point. The 1828 census had listed him as a labourer assigned to T.W.M. Windermere. By 1834, he had obtained another ticket of leave and was living in the Maitland area. However, as he entered his mid-fifties, his health began to fail. His ticket of leave was cancelled due to illness, and he returned to government support, receiving basic provisions such as food and clothing. This arrangement, common for invalid convicts who could no longer support themselves, marked the final stage of his life. Thomas Maslin died in Parramatta on 29 May 1854, aged 62.

Ultimately, our understanding of Hannah and Thomas remains partly elusive. What survives are fragmentary records—musters, inquests, and official reports—that reveal little about their inner lives. Yet from what can be pieced together, their story is one of hardship, separation, and brief moments of stability in a system that seemed designed to break rather than rebuild. Both were young when transported, their crimes shaped as much by circumstance as by intent. Both were punished twice over. And yet, amid the constraints of the colonial penal system, they conceived and raised a child. Hannah died relatively young, but not alone. Thomas lived longer, though his final years were probably marked by illness and poverty. Their son, Thomas Maslin, passed through their care and went on to build a life of his own. Perhaps, in part, we come to know them through him. And of course, without them, I would not be here to tell their story.

An early painting by Walter Preston of Newcastle which was established as a penal settlement in 1804 for reoffending convicts. Known for coal mining and cedar cutting, it ceased as a site of secondary punishment in 1823, marking its shift to free settlement.

Parenthood and Punishment (1819–1829)

After receiving his ticket of leave in 1819, Thomas Maslin appeared to be entering a more stable phase of his life in the colony. His skills as a horse handler and labourer were in demand, and by 1822 he was likely employed by William Cox, a prominent road builder whose projects expanded the colonial infrastructure westward. This work may have taken Thomas away from Sydney, but it gave him a degree of freedom and a path to independence. At this point, there is strong circumstantial evidence that he was caring for his young son, also named Thomas. In the 1822 muster, a child aged three is listed as residing with Thomas Maslin. While such records are sparse and do not always confirm relationships, the child’s age and placement strongly suggest that Thomas had assumed responsibility for his son, at least for a time.

Meanwhile, Hannah Brown continued to live and work in Sydney. Her name appears in the musters of 1821, 1822, and 1825 as a domestic worker and housekeeper, sometimes under the name Ann Brown. Although there is no direct record of her son during these years, she likely cared for him through his earliest months and years. The absence of her son from the musters is unsurprising—illegitimate children were rarely recorded unless formally baptised or institutionalised. At some point, she appears to have made the decision to allow Thomas Maslin to take over the boy’s care. A muster from this period records a child named Thomas, aged three, residing with Thomas Maslin—an important piece of evidence suggesting that he was caring for his son at the time. Whether this was due to employment demands, housing constraints, or a mutual understanding between the parents remains unclear.

The relative stability of these arrangements came to an end in 1824. That year, Thomas was sentenced to three years of secondary punishment at Port Macquarie. The crime for which he was punished is not recorded in surviving documents, but breaches of ticket-of-leave conditions were common. On 27 April 1824, he was transported aboard the Sally to one of the harshest penal settlements in New South Wales. This marked a turning point, disrupting any stable family arrangement that might have been in place. With Thomas now imprisoned, the care of their son once again fell to Hannah. The 1824 muster shows her living in Melville as a housekeeper in the household of Thomas Summers, along with a child listed as “Thomas Brown, aged five.” While the surname differs, this is likely her son, an understandable substitution of the mother’s surname in the absence of formal recognition by the father.

Hannah’s return to looking after the child appears to have lasted several years. By 1825, she had moved back to Sydney, continuing her domestic employment, and in 1827, she was granted a new ticket of leave (No. 27/140). The ticket provided her with a degree of autonomy within the colony and suggests she was regarded as reliable and employable. During these years, the boy was likely with her, though no records confirm this. The family’s story in this period is built on fragments—some confirmed, others inferred.

In 1827, as Thomas was released from Port Macquarie and began to re-establish himself, tragedy struck Hannah. In October 1828, her ticket of leave was revoked following a charge of drunkenness, and she was sentenced to the Parramatta Female Factory. Her offence—being drunk in a disorderly house late at night—was not uncommon among women in her position. For those living under the constraints of the convict system, even minor infractions could lead to severe consequences, particularly after years of unstable employment and limited support.

Port Macquarie was one of the most feared places of secondary punishment in the colony. Set on an isolated stretch of coast and known for its brutal regime, the penal station housed men who had already served part of their sentence but were deemed to have failed the conditions of their ticket of leave. Convicts there laboured in chain gangs, cleared dense bush, hauled timber, and endured routine floggings for even minor infractions. Food was poor, medical attention was minimal, and the work was physically exhausting. For many, the experience left lasting damage. It is reasonable to assume that Thomas, released after three years under such conditions, was physically depleted and psychologically shaken. Re-establishing a life under those circumstances—without money, property, or immediate support—would have made it difficult for him to resume care of the child, even if he had wanted to.

These years also weighed heavily on Hannah. She had rebuilt a degree of stability, secured employment, and was almost certainly looking after her son again. She had shown that she could be trusted within the colonial system—her ticket of leave in 1827 (No. 27/140) marked official recognition of her good conduct. Yet one misstep, a charge of drunkenness, undid it all. Her return to confinement meant the loss not only of her limited freedom but of her role as a mother. This must have been a deeply painful reversal. For women in the Female Factory, the separation from their children, particularly those too old to remain with them, was among the most distressing aspects of incarceration. The boy she had protected through the years was now effectively orphaned. Though we cannot know how she processed these events, it is not difficult to imagine the sense of failure or grief she may have carried in the months that followed.

The Parramatta Female Factory was more than a prison. It operated as a place of confinement, labour, and control, where women were categorised into classes based on their behaviour, from new arrivals to the “refractory” (those deemed disobedient or difficult to manage). Many worked in textile production or domestic service, while others awaited reassignment or the possibility of marriage. It was known colloquially as a “marriage factory” because it also served as a place where free men could select wives from among the inmates. Unlike her earlier sentence at Newcastle, where Hannah had likely kept her infant with her, older children were not permitted to remain with their mothers at Parramatta.

At this point, the boy, Thomas, was around nine years old. It is unclear who cared for him during this period, but later suggestions indicate that the McIntosh family in Lane Cove may have been involved. Whether this arrangement was formal or informal remains unknown. There is no evidence that Thomas Maslin, newly released and likely struggling to find work, was in a position to take the child back into his care. The absence of further records about the boy between 1828 and the early 1830s leaves a gap—one that may yet be filled through orphanage or foster care records, or not at all. The years after Thomas’s birth brought ongoing disruption for both his parents, despite their efforts to maintain some form of family life. The penal system appeared to be completely indifferent to such efforts, offering little consideration for the lives of convict children.

The Sydney Herald NSW Thursday 12 March 1835

References:

Bateson, C. (1983). The convict ships, 1787-1868 (Australian ed.). Library of Australian History.

Clark, C. M. H. (1963). A Short History of Australia. New York: New American Library.

Clark, Manning. (1962). The Currency Lad. Melbourne: Melbourne University Press.

Convict Records. (n.d.). Indefatigable Voyages. Retrieved from https://convictrecords.com.au/ships/indefatigable/voyages/54?convicts=3

Daniels, Kay. (1998). Convict Women. St. Leonards, NSW: Allen & Unwin.

Fry, E. (1827). Memoir of the Life of Elizabeth Fry: With Extracts from Her Journal and Letters. London: J. Hatchard and Son.

Hirst, John. (2000). Currency Lads and Lasses. Sydney: Oxford University Press.

Hughes, Robert. (1987). The Fatal Shore: The Epic of Australia’s Founding. New York: Alfred A. Knopf.

Karskens, Grace. (2009). The Colony: A History of Early Sydney. Sydney: Allen & Unwin.

O’Donoghue, Judith Mazlin. Great Adventures and Achievements: The Story of the Mazlin Family. Unpublished Manuscript.

Oxley, Deborah. (1996). Convict Maids: The Forced Migration of Women to Australia. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Smith, Babette. (2017). Defiant Voices: How Australia’s Female Convicts Challenged Authority. Sydney: Allen & Unwin.

Smith, Babette. (2018). Defiant Voices: How Australia’s Female Convicts Challenged Authority. National Library of Australia.

Surgeon’s Journal of the Convict Ship Mary Ann, 1822 (As cited in Smith, B. (2017). Defiant Voices: How Australia’s Female Convicts Challenged Authority. Sydney: Allen & Unwin.)

Watt, Lorna (2010). Thomas Mazlin (1819-1894): Pioneer of Gordon: his origins, life, family and 11 acres, The Historial Vol. 39 No 1 October 2010.

Image Generation:

Images were generated using AI tools provided by OpenAI.