Denise Newton Writes

The continuing story of the lives of the Roberts family. Chapter One began here. The first part of Chapter Two is here.

In my last post, I introduced Thomas Roberts, who with his wife Hannah farmed on land at South Creek (today’s Bringelly/St Marys district). After Hannah’s untimely death, Thomas was left with five young children, a farm and a household to manage. It was here that my 3 x great-Grandmother, Elizabeth Greenwood, entered the Roberts family.

Part Two: A family between worlds

Harsh beginnings

Elizabeth’s remarkable life began about 1820, in the English county of Surrey. Her family were poor and probably lived in the slums of Southwark, the northernmost part of Surrey on the south bank of the River Thames.

Her mother, Mary Ann Preveaux, was a laundress who was born in Paris, around 1787.[i] She married William Greenwood and they had six children. He may have been among the British troops who occupied parts of France, including Paris, in the immediate aftermath of the wars against Napoleonic France. If so, it’s possible he met Mary Ann there and brought her to England with him.

After the wars, times were hard for ex-soldiers back in England. Numbers in the army were drastically cut. With no veteran’s pensions, they were competing for jobs with thousands of others looking for work, as machines replaced human labour in agricultural, textile and other industries. To make matters worse, in 1815 the volcanic Mount Tambora, near Java, erupted. Though on the other side of the world, it caused a global climate catastrophe known as the ‘year without a summer.’ Crop failures pushed up food prices in Britain, adding to the distress of families already on the borderline of disaster.[ii]

If the Greenwoods moved to London in search of work, they struggled along with their neighbours in the dirty, crowded tenements and alleys of Southwark. Anyone crossing the Thames by London Bridge to Southwark found a very different environment from the more prosperous City of London on the opposite bank. Walking the rough cobbled streets, they’d have dodged carts rattling past, vendors selling fish, pies, or vegetables, animal entrails draining from slaughter yards. The odour of rotting food and the metallic smell of blood polluted the air. Rats and cockroaches scurried between the feet of prostitutes or pickpockets waiting for their next mark.

Poor families occupied whatever lodgings they could afford, often a single room with a small fire for heating and cooking—if they could buy coal—with an outside privy and pump shared with many other families. The inhabitants of these slum districts, referred to sneeringly by the better-off as criminal ‘rookeries’— breeding grounds— breathed in foul air from the industries that crowded the riverside and laneways: tanneries, laundries, breweries, glue factories…all of which dumped their waste into the street or directly into the river.

Mary, the eldest Greenwood daughter, had a position as a maid-of-all-work in the household of John Heasman, an ‘oilman’ whose shop was near St Saviours. Heasman sold oils for household use: cooking, medicine, lamps and lighting, candles and soaps; possibly also supplying lubricants to nearby workshops. His shop was redolent with the odours of linseed, whale and castor oils.

Mary worked hard for her living: answering her master’s call bell at all hours, up at dawn to set the fires in the hearths, heat water for washing, empty chamber pots, help prepare breakfast, serve meals, scrub floors and dust furniture, mend clothes…she’d often be the last person in bed at night. She may also have been called upon to do cleaning or other chores in the shop. At least she had a bed to sleep in and a clean uniform to put on each day.

Her mother’s working days were also long and physically taxing, either taking in washing or, more likely, working in one of the many laundries near the river. Mary Ann’s back would ache after hours bending over washtubs and lifting heavy wet linen and pails of water. Her hands were red and swollen from the hot water and harsh lye soap they were plunged into every day. At the end of ten or twelve hours’ labour she’d return home in the gloomy evening, wondering what she could afford to give her children for supper that night.

The whereabouts of William, Mary Ann’s husband, are unclear. It’s possible he’d been imprisoned for some crime, deserted the family, or died.

Some of the children would also work while their mother was at her labour. Elizabeth was a teenager: old enough to have found work in a factory, running errands or cleaning; or else she looked after her younger siblings: Sophia, Ellen, Robert and little William. The children might sometimes have joined the ‘mudlarks’, people who foraged in the thick, stinking river mud at low tide, looking for lumps of coal or metal, lost items like spoons or rings— whatever might be of use or could be sold. [iii]

It was a harsh, desperate existence, but none of those children could have anticipated, in the spring of 1834, how fundamentally their lives were about to change.

‘An agonising scene’

SURREY SESSIONS – TUESDAY
(Before R. Hedger, Esq, Chairman).
Mary Greenwood, a fine-looking young woman, aged 17, and her mother, Mary Ann Greenwood, aged 45, with an infant in her arms, were indicted, the former for stealing a large quantity of wearing apparel, and other articles, the property of her employer, Mr John Heasman, oilman, of St Saviour’s, Southwark, and the latter for receiving the same, well knowing them to be stolen.
The case presented another instance of the flagrant offence of robbery by servants, and being clearly proved, the Jury returned a verdict of Guilty.
The Court sentenced the younger prisoner to seven years and the mother to fourteen years’ transportation.
An agonizing scene ensued after the convicts were conveyed from the bar.[iv]

Mary and her mother had succumbed to desperation or to temptation. In stealing clothes and other items from her employer, Mary had outraged ‘respectable’ people whose comfortable lives were disrupted if they could not trust those who served them. By accepting the stolen goods, probably hoping to pawn or sell them for some much-needed coins, her mother was complicit in Mary’s crime and guilty of her own.

Mother and daughter were tried together on 26^th May 1834 and sentenced to transportation to New South Wales. That ‘agonising scene’ in the court may have touched some in the courtroom, but was quickly forgotten, as the Greenwood women were just two of many facing similar sentences. Uneducated women, they knew little about the wider world outside their own corner of it. But living and working near the Thames, they’d have heard plenty of horror stories of sea voyages that ended in tragedy; may have known other families who had said goodbye to a loved one transported across those seas. As they returned to their gaol cell that day, their hearts were heavy with fear and uncertainty.

The most urgent question for Mary Ann was: what would happen to her five other children?[v]

~

The two women were held in one of London’s gaols such as Horsemonger Lane Prison in Southwark, where inmates were separated, even to the extent of walled seats in chapel.

Just before embarkation on a transport ship, convicts were often sent to Millbank Prison, built on the opposite side of the Thames from Southwark. Designed in the newest prison style, it had a wheel-like layout with a maze of gloomy passages. Over one thousand to-be-transported prisoners were kept in separate cells and forbidden from talking to each other. No visitors were allowed apart from the prison chaplain. The intent was that prisoners should have time alone to reflect on their misdeeds.[vi]

Left: Millbank Prison in the 1820s, Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=545944
Right: Plan of Millbank Prison, from G.P. Holford, An Account of Millbank Penitentiary (1828).

For Mary Ann, her main preoccupations were the children. Thankfully Elizabeth was with them; at fourteen, old enough to do what needed to keep them fed and, hopefully, safe. Sophia was eleven, Ellen ten, Robert five and William, the child in Mary Ann’s arms at her trial, only two. What would become of them all when their mother and eldest sister sailed away, never to return?

Events happened at a whirlwind pace. Arrested, tried and sentenced in May, they were on board the transport ship George Hibbert in July.[vii] In two months they’d gone from scraping a living in Southwark, to boarding a transport ship. They joined another 142 women in the convict quarters on board, after being spoken to by the ship’s Master, Captain Livesay and ship’s surgeon John Tarn.[viii]

Also aboard were the Reverend John Saunders and his wife. Saunders had exchanged free passage to the colony for his service giving religious instruction to the prisoners, and Divine Service each Sunday for all on board. Elizabeth Saunders was to perform the role of Matron, attending to the behaviour and well-being of the women—although the poor woman suffered so badly from seasickness, that for the first part of the voyage her husband had to do her job along with his own. This was a first: an experiment to see if the presence of a Minister and Matron would improve prisoners’ behaviour and outlook during the voyage.[ix]

Several free women boarded as well, accommodated separately from the prisoners, of course. And there was a total of sixty-four children, about forty of whom were accompanying their convict mothers. The Greenwood youngsters were among them.[x]

Convicts had to request permission for their spouse or children to accompany them, and this was not always given. Older children were considered capable of managing on their own, and often left behind. And childhood was no protection against becoming a transported prisoner: on the George Hibbert. There were at least two convicts twelve years of age, one of fourteen, one fifteen and one sixteen. Elizabeth and her siblings were not taken on as convicts, though, but as free children of a convict mother. Mary Ann would feel both relief and anxiety for her children as they all boarded the ship.

What were Elizabeth’s feelings? Did she harbour resentment at her older sister for stealing those goods, or at her mother for taking them to sell or pawn? Whatever her thoughts, there was nothing she could do about the situation. The family now had to face this frightening future, but at least they were together.

Before the George Hibbert set sail, the women had a visit from members of the Convict Ship Committee, established by the wealthy English Quaker and prison reform activist Elizabeth Fry, of the Fry’s Chocolate company family. Ladies from the Committee boarded each convict ship before departure, to distribute small gifts such as a piece of soap, a comb, and some needlework supplies, in the hope that it would give women motivation to keep clean and productive during their voyage. One of the visiting ladies noted that the ship was very crowded, leading to discomfort and the threat of illness on board, but that the Master and ship’s surgeon appeared peculiarly well qualified for the offices to which they were appointed. [xi]

The Committee women gave a Bible reading and encouraged the prisoners to use their time at sea to ready themselves for a new life in the colony. For some prisoners, it was the first time they had been given a gift or shown kindness by their ‘betters’. Others rolled their eyes at the well-meaning but patronising earnestness of these comfortably off ladies, probably muttering: what could they possibly know of our lives? They should try living in our world, just for one day, then they’d see things differently!

---

The ship set sail on 22nd July, travelling via the Canary Islands off the Spanish coast, then running on with the trade winds to Australia. The ship’s Surgeon Tarn was kept busy with sick and injured women and children, including both Mary Ann and her daughter Mary at different times. Tarn performed his duties conscientiously and only two people died in the four and a half months it took to reach New South Wales.[xii]

As the ship finally entered Port Jackson on the first day of December, the Greenwoods saw the spectacular bays and inlets, sandy beaches and sandstone cliffs of the harbour. Just before turning into Sydney Cove, they were probably ordered below decks, so their glimpse of the settlement itself was brief. But they heard the boom of the nine-gun salute for the Governor, ordered by the vessel’s Master.

~

Five days later, they were mustered on deck to be assessed and questioned by officials, before being assigned to work roles. Their age, appearance, marital status, religion, place of origin and trade or employment skills were noted. Experienced seamstresses, domestic servants, nurses and cooks were in demand in the colony and were quickly given positions. Mary’s youth and her previous work as a general maid, led to her immediate assignment to work for a businesswoman, Mary Reynolds, who owned a store in Pitt Street, Sydney.[xiii] If Miss Reynolds was at the docks to collect her assignee, Mary, along with most of the others, would have been taken away to start her new position on December 15^th.

The Sydney Morning Herald reported that:
The females, per ‘George Hibbert’, landed on Monday and were distributed to their respective assignees during the day.
The article noted approvingly:
The cleanly and orderly appearance of the women testified the judicious discipline and regularity that had been maintained amongst them.[xiv]

This would have been of little comfort to Mary Ann as her eldest was led away.

The second blow was that three of the younger children, Sophia, Ellen and Robert, were not allowed to stay with their mother. The girls were taken to the Female Orphan School at Parramatta, and Robert to the Male Orphan School at Liverpool, where they were admitted on 16^th December.[xv]Toddler Will was allowed to remain with Mary Ann—for now.

The Orphan Schools were not just for children whose parents had died. Many youngsters were taken from a convict parent, and kept at the school until they were old enough to be ‘apprenticed’ (sent out to work)—usually around aged ten. Others were given up by families who could not support them. There were also some Aboriginal children enrolled: some actual orphans; some taken from their families; others brought there by parents who hoped that learning the white people’s ways would help for their children.

At Sydney Cove, scenes of confusion, shock and anguish were everywhere, as children were separated from their convict mothers and sent to the orphanages.

The women heading to Parramatta, to assignments there or to the Female Factory, the women’s prison and workhouse, were put on boats and sent upriver. It was a long trip, even on the steamers that were by now replacing rowboats. They would have been both puzzled and fascinated by the sights and sounds as they made their way past the many inlets and bays of the harbour: the strange shapes and foliage of eucalyptus trees and the noisy, brightly coloured birds in their branches. But they were also exhausted, anxious, and drooping in the unaccustomed heat of a Sydney summer.

Mary Ann was sent to work at the newly established King’s School, located in a handsome two-storey building known today as ‘Harrisford’, at 182 George Street, Parramatta.[xvi] There were around 120 boys at the school, the majority boarders with some day pupils from the township. They were all sons of wealthy settlers, officers and the elite of colonial society. Two years later the number of pupils had outgrown the original building and the school moved across the river to O’Connell Street. [xvii]

Given her previous work in Southwark, this assignment took her back to the long days of washing, scrubbing, wringing, drying and folding heavy linens and clothes. At the age of forty-seven, such work did not get easier. Her hair was greying and her once youthful complexion now described as ‘sallow’. There was nothing for it but to work hard and see out her sentence. Then she could see what kind of life was possible for herself and her family in this strange new world.

Making her own way

And Elizabeth? At fourteen, she was considered old enough to make her own way in the colony; authorities took little or no responsibility for those her age arriving free. She must have found work and somewhere to live. She’d have wanted to stay close to her mother at Parramatta and to her little sisters at the Orphan School alongside the river. There was little she could do about visiting her brother Robert at the Liverpool institution—such a trip was beyond her means.

If she had been allowed to visit the Female Orphan School, she’d have walked there along the river, past thick groves of trees at the water’s edge, mangrove roots protruding like fingers from the water. In quiet moments she may have seen or heard the eels, slipping along the muddy shallows. They gave the new town its name, from the traditional people of the area, the Burramatagal clan who were named for the eels.

Once she reached the school she’d enter through a grand brick archway and be escorted to the dormitory or classroom where she could find the little girls. The children were kept to a strict routine, with mornings devoted to prayers, schoolroom learning (reading, writing, basic arithmetic) followed by lunch. Afternoons were for chores and work skills such as sewing, knitting, gardening, or laundry. They were closely supervised and allowed little free time and even less contact with the outside world, especially their convict parents—those in charge fearing criminal behaviour would too easily rub off onto the girls.[xviii]

If Elizabeth was permitted to visit, these were precious moments, making it hard to leave her sisters each time.

Left: Lycett, Joseph. View of the Female Orphan School, near Parramatta, New South Wales. Hand-coloured aquatint, plate 28 in Views in Australia, or New South Wales and Van Diemen’s Land Delineated. London: John Souter, 1825. National Library of Australia, NLA 135702032.
Right: In the stairwell at the Female Orphan School (now Whitlam Institute) in 2018

Having made her own way for two years, Elizabeth married in 1836. She was sixteen; her groom twenty years older. [xix]

Anthony Shaw was from Lancashire, in England’s industrialising midlands. In 1820 he was convicted of shop burglary and sentenced to fourteen years transportation, sailing into Sydney on the Adamant in February 1821.[xx] He’d been a sailor, listed as a ship’s carpenter on arrival and sent to work at Parramatta.[xxi]

Above: List of convicts showing Anthony Shaw, who was sent in 1821 to ‘strengthen the Government gangs’ at Parramatta
Source: NSW, Australia, Colonial Secretary’s Papers, 1788-1856, Series: NRS 937; Reel or Fiche Numbers: Reels 6004-6016

He was known by the nickname ‘Dandy’: was this because of a love for flashy clothes; which might have got him arrested and sent to NSW in the first place? Was it his grey eyes and auburn hair, or a confident manner and big plans that attracted the youthful Elizabeth to this older man? Whatever brought them together, they were married by Reverend Samuel Marsden in Parramatta’s St Johns church. Their son, Henry Francis, was baptised there in October 1839.[xxii]

Once Anthony got his Ticket-of-Leave or served his sentence, he could work for himself in carpentry; Elizabeth was earning money from dressmaking.[xxiii] Parramatta was a growing settlement with more free settlers and emancipists moving there. More families needing homes, furniture, clothes and household items, some of which could be supplied by an enterprising couple with the right skills.

Elizabeth’s heart lifted when, in October 1839, Anthony brought her brother Robert, now ten, from the Male Orphan School, to work with him as an apprentice carpenter.[xxiv] In December, her own application to bring her sister Sophia to live with them as apprenticed dressmaker was granted.[xxv] It was wonderful to have two of her siblings with her again.

 For the rest of the Greenwoods, though, it was a different story.

‘Orderly good conduct & industry, or
 Disorderly, dirty & disrespectful’

Her mother continued to work at the King’s School. By 1841, Mary Ann realised that she had made an error in declaring herself married on her arrival in Sydney. Knowing that she would never see her husband William again, she now applied for permission to marry John Land, who had arrived free as a soldier.[xxvi] It was refused because of that previous admission.

So she never remarried, but received her Ticket-of- Leave that year—perhaps that helped ease the disappointment of her marriage plans, because though confined to living and working in a specific area, she was now able to work for an income.[xxvii]

She’d served just seven of her fourteen-year sentence: she’d met the demands of authorities for women to demonstrate Orderly good conduct, sobriety, industry, cleanliness and humble deportment.[xxviii]

~

Her daughter Mary had not been so compliant. She struggled at her assigned work with Miss Reynolds, whose Sydney shop sold hats, shoes, clothing, fabrics, lace and gloves.[xxix] Mary ran away in May 1835, six months into her assignment. She was detained and sentenced to two months in the Female Factory.[xxx]

It was a bad mistake that added extra time to her sentence. And, on arriving at the Factory at Parramatta, Mary was put in the ‘Crime’ (or Third) Class—poorer rations, harder labour, no visitors. She had to wear a badge to demonstrate she had re-offended. She might even have had her hair cut short or shaved, a humiliating punishment loathed by the women. Crime class convicts were not permitted assignment or marriage. They had to earn a place in the ‘Merit’ (or First) Class quarters through good behaviour. Being sent to Crime Class meant you had been Disorderly, dirty, or disrespectful.[xxxi]

~

She did not heed this lesson, because two months after being returned to service with Miss Reynolds, she absconded again, with her fellow servant Jane Mack. The sentence this time was six weeks. Both were then sent back to the Reynolds household, but they had not yet done testing the system.

Jane and Mary tried another escape in September 1835.[xxxii] They were again imprisoned at the Female Factory.

Then, one summer morning in 1837, they stole the key to the back door of the Reynolds house, along with items like boots, stays and silk stockings from the shop, and made another break for it. They did not get far. A constable found them later that morning in the street; they were arrested and dispatched again to the Factory—this time for a full year.[xxxiii]

Was the shop-owner Mary Reynolds a harsh and punishing mistress to work for, or were Mary and her friend Jane so rebellious that they didn’t much care about the consequences? They were certainly risk takers, willing to gamble everything on the chance of freedom from a punishing system. But after this fourth stint at the Factory, Mary settled down and did not appear before the Court a fifth time.

Her quieter behaviour was rewarded. In October 1840 she got her Ticket-of-Leave, well before the 1848 expiry of her sentence.[xxxiv] She was now free to live where she chose within the district of Penrith. Her mother’s Ticket was amended so that she could move close to Mary. The family were determined to stay together from now on.

Mary met a young man of twenty-one, George Chalker, and their application to marry was approved; they were wed at St Marys church at South Creek in March 1841.[xxxv] George, unusually tall at six foot eight inches, had been born at South Creek, part of a large family that had settled in the region after his parents (both freed convicts) received a grant of sixty acres there, known as ‘Elder Park.’[xxxvi] The family grazed cattle, adding to the size of their holding over the years, and George and his siblings maintained strong connections to the family home.

Sophia Greenwood, now a young woman of eighteen, married another George (Stevens, a plasterer) that same year.[xxxvii] They had one son, William, and settled in Parramatta.[xxxviii]

Things were at last starting to improve for some of the Greenwoods, though not for all.

The warrant and the wedding

Six months before Sophia had left the Orphan School, youngest sister Ellen had been sent to work as a domestic servant for Henry Bond, a tanner at 298 Pitt Street Sydney.[xxxix] She was just thirteen.

The smells of the tannery were reminders of Southwark: rotting flesh scraped from hides stretched along heavy, curved beams, the sharp stink of lime and stale urine used to treat the skins. With luck her duties were mainly in the house, but the odours of her employer’s workshop followed her throughout her days.

In 1844, she got drunk—very drunk—on wine she stole from Bond, and ran away.[xl] Was she missing her sisters and mother, struggling with the duties of her work, or simply rebelling? A newspaper reporter described her as ‘thirteen’— she was actually seventeen, but of such small stature and slight build that she appeared a childlike figure in the courtroom.[xli] An article also incorrectly stated that Ellen fled to her parents at Parramatta, but it was with her sister Elizabeth and brother-in-law Anthony Shaw that Ellen sought refuge. At court she was ordered to return to Bond’s service.

Life began to improve for Ellen a few years after that. She met a young man, possibly through her sister Mary’s connections at South Creek.[xlii] He was another George—the third by that name to join the family. Mary and her George were witnesses to Ellen’s wedding, held at ‘Clydesdale’, the property where Mary and George Chalker had wed a few years earlier.  Why did both Greenwood sisters marry there? A connection of some sort: whether through the Chalkers, a long-established family in the district, or through employment at the estate.

‘Clydesdale’, off Richmond Road at Marsden Park, was then a thriving community with a large two-storey brick home, stables and coach house, bakehouse, granary and rooms for workers’ accommodation—even its own church. The owner of the property at the time, Charles Tompson, donated funds to build St Philips church on the eastern bank of South Creek. The church was consecrated just two years before Ellen’s ceremony was conducted.[xliii] If either her new husband George Simpson, or her brother-in-law, worked at the estate, that may be why the two weddings were held there.

In search of quick coin

1844 was not a happy year for Elizabeth, whose life was about to be turned upside down again, this time due to the recklessness of her husband.

Big plans Anthony may have had, but he appears to have been a foolish man on the lookout for some quick coin.

Their son Henry was five years old when she learnt that Anthony had been arrested and faced trial at Berrima Court. He’d stolen linen and clothes from the local publican, Brian McMahon.[xliv] ‘Dandy’ Shaw could never resist the temptation of nice clothes.

At the trial, McMahon described how Anthony had asked for a meal and a bed for the night. During the evening the publican thought he heard a noise, though he didn’t go to investigate. The surprised maid who entered the room in the morning found no Anthony, but a trunk that had been forced and emptied of its contents. The open window showed how he’d escaped undetected. He made it to nearby Bargo where a local constable testified how he’d seen Anthony there with a large bundle, though didn’t think it suspicious. Eventually, ‘Dandy’s’ luck ran out; he was stopped and arrested for the theft.

Elizabeth’s brother-in-law George Chalker acted as a character witness for Anthony—as a favour to his wife’s family? It did little good, though. The verdict was ‘guilty.’

At the news that her husband was sentenced to six months in Parramatta Gaol, Elizabeth must have despaired. Anthony had held his Certificate of Freedom for six years—how could he have put that at risk? She was facing long months supporting herself and their son, on whatever money she could earn herself. She could not even afford to stay in their cottage in Phillip Street.

No, it would not do. She had to find other work and a place to live until Anthony had served his prison time.

With a heavy heart and gritted teeth, she began to search for employment.

~

WANTED: A steady and respectable woman as Cook and Housekeeper for single gentleman.
WANTED: A respectable person to assist in the management of a family with five young children. She will be required to work at her needle.
WANTED: Housekeeper to look after man, four children. One child no objection.[xlv]

There were plenty of people needing domestic help, especially widowed fathers struggling to work or run their business while dealing with the unfamiliar world of domesticity and children. She would choose one that offered a live-in situation where young Henry could be with her.

She arrived at the home where the widowed Thomas Roberts and his five youngsters, still grieving their wife and mother, were waiting for a woman like her.

Widower and wife

At this time Thomas kept a house in Elizabeth Street in Sydney, as well as the farm and home at South Creek. Elizabeth might have started work in Sydney, but eventually they were living at South Creek, initially at ‘Exeter Farm’; later they spent time on a neighbouring two-hundred-acre property, on the eastern bank of South Creek. It was known locally as ‘Gray’s Grant’ after the original grantee of 1817. [xlvi]

Thomas took over the farm from James Badgery in February 1844, in lieu of the sum of £526 owed by James jointly to his brother Andrew and to Thomas.[xlvii] The Roberts called the six-roomed house ‘Woodbine Cottage’ (it was previously ‘The Spotted Dog’ public house). [xlviii]  It had a detached kitchen, stables for five horses, a barn, garden and extensive orchards. The farm also produced wheat and hay and cattle grazed in its fields.[xlix]

Her work for the family kept Elizabeth busy. There may have been a cook, maid or gardener to assist in the operation of the household and farm, but she was responsible for keeping everything running smoothly. There were also five young Roberts children needing her care, and her own little boy to look after. Busy but satisfying, and pleasing to be closer to her mother and sisters who lived at South Creek, after those challenging years apart.

~

Eventually, romance sparked between her and Thomas, moving their relationship from employer and employee to a de facto marriage. Both were lonely, wanting the comfort and companionship of a partner.

But Elizabeth was still officially married to Anthony. Where was he?

Given his chequered past, he might simply have decided to disappear. Perhaps the responsibilities of a family were not what he wanted from life. He could have met with illness, misadventure, or died. It’s also possible that he did come to find his wife; to be told she wouldn’t return to him. She’d found happiness in her new situation and wasn’t willing to leave it.

Whatever the reason, it was the end of their marriage, but she could not legally remarry without a death certificate for him.

Old and new families

Late in 1845 Elizabeth knew she was pregnant and in July the next year she gave birth to a daughter, Harrietta Amelia, known as Amelia. At the child’s baptism at St Mary Magdalene Church (at South Creek, today’s St Marys), Anthony was named as the father.[l] This was a way of saving face: being unable to marry Thomas because of her existing marriage, she needed a father’s name to put on the certificate. While de facto or common law relationships were common among convict and poorer settlers, the Roberts’ world was a more ‘respectable’ one in which the legalities of relationships were important. It would have shamed both Thomas and Elizabeth to be seen as flouting those conventions. Amelia herself regarded Thomas as her father; he was named as such on her death certificate in 1926.[li]

Another daughter, Louisa Agnes, arrived in 1848, and a son, Albert, in 1850. This time, both were acknowledged officially as Thomas’ children.[lii]

It was a busy and crowded family, with five of Thomas’ children from his first marriage still living with them, and her son Henry, not quite seven when his first half-sister was born.

Despite her new-found happiness with Thomas, heartache lay ahead. Henry only lived another few years before he died in 1852, at the age of thirteen. The family still lived at South Creek, but Elizabeth buried her son at St Johns burial ground in Parramatta, perhaps because it was the church where he’d been baptised.[liii]

Her family would have provided comfort during those dark days after the death of her firstborn; it was a blessing that her sisters Mary and Ellen both lived nearby, as did her mother.

~

A few years after young Henry’s death, Thomas took over management of ‘The Red Cow Inn’, a popular hotel in Parramatta. He advertised an inaugural supper to celebrate the Inn’s reopening, mentioning the establishment would be conducted in the old sporting style—a reference to horses and racing, always so close to his heart.[liv] Notice of his new venture also appeared in Bell’s Life in Sydney & Sporting Chronicle—the premier sporting and racing paper, targeting his turf connections.[lv]

Built in the early 1800s on George Street near Church Street, the inn was set back from the road, behind a garden. On modern-day maps, the location is called Erby Place. One of Parramatta’s best-known pubs, the Red Cow was visited by many prominent people in business, government and society circles.

On the evening of the supper, I picture Elizabeth and Thomas, full of anticipation as the crowd of notables began arriving. The candlelight cast a soft glow along the crowded tables as meals were served and wine poured. Conversation flowed: the latest society gossip, business news, and—of course—which horse had won the last big race.

A long, low building with the public bar was fronted by a beautiful garden with pink and red roses, oleander and other fragrant flowers, and an enormous prickly pear. Another building hosted community events and meetings in its large upstairs room, where that celebratory supper was held. [lvi] There were accommodation apartments, a large billiard room and dining room.

Then there were the stables, described as perhaps the most splendid in the country, capable of accommodating fifty horses.[lvii]

Even before taking over management of the Inn, Thomas had a business interest in these stables. His son-in-law George Levien (who married Hannah, Thomas’ daughter with his first wife) had been managing the Inn’s stables from 1857, and advertised accordingly:

Mr G Levien begs leave to inform the public visiting Parramatta, that he has taken over the Livery Stables of the Red Cow Hotel, and trusts…to obtain the patronage of gentlemen from the interior, as there are good paddocks connected with the establishment {with} carriages, gigs, dog-carts, horses &c, always on hire. NB. As the horses are selected from the stud of Thomas Roberts Esq, they need no comment. [lviii]

As always, the extended Roberts family was sticking together, in both personal and business matters. Their activities in the equine world were well known and so highly regarded that the mere mention of Thomas’ name implied excellence.

But Thomas had only about seven months to enjoy his new venture. He was at the Red Cow when, in April 1858, he died after a long illness, noted on the death certificate as ‘visceral disease’, which could have referred to liver or intestinal disease, kidney failure or other abdominal complaint. He was fifty-one.[lix]

His son Charles gave the particulars of Thomas’ life and death for the official certificate. While Charles noted his own dead mother, Hannah, and her children with Thomas, he did not include Elizabeth and the three children she had with Thomas. Charles knew the name of his grandfather, the celebrated road-builder William Roberts, but not William’s wife, Jane.

These are the ways in which people disappear from their world and from the records.

But an obituary, published in Bell’s Life in Sydney on 17 April 1858, reflected the esteem in which Thomas had been held:

It is this week our painful province to record the demise of Thomas Roberts Snr, Esq. of Exeter Farm, South Creek, who expired at his residence, Parramatta, on Wednesday morning last in his 48th year, {sic} after a protracted illness. The deceased gentleman was during many years a zealous promoter of turf pursuits, with the legitimate view of improving colonial stock, and his premature removal from amongst us in the prime of life, is much to be deplored.

A month after his death, the executors of his will advertised the Inn for auction.[lx] Sadly for his daughter and son-in-law, George Levien’s management of the Inn’s stables came to an end soon after; George was declared bankrupt a year later.[lxi]

~

Thomas’ death could also have spelt personal disaster as well as heartache for Elizabeth and her three surviving children. After Anthony’s imprisonment, she had built a new life with the Roberts family. Had he left his estate only to his children with Hannah, Elizabeth would have found herself with no home and no means of support. But Thomas’ will, written in December 1856, demonstrated the depth of his attachment to her and to their children, who were aged twelve, ten and eight when he died.^*

This is the last and only Will of me, Thomas Roberts of South Creek in the County of Cumberland in the Colony of NSW, Gentleman. I appoint George Edward Levien of Sydney, Master Mariner, and Richard Driver Jnr of Sydney, Gentleman, Executors and Trustees of this my Will.

I give and bequeath to Mrs Elizabeth Shaw, my housekeeper, the amount of one hundred pounds clear of all deductions, to be paid to her as soon as possible after my death, for her own absolute use and benefit. And also, if living with me at the time of my death, the whole of my household furniture, excepting my small family writing desk and my Chiffonier, both of which I bequeath absolutely to Charles Hutchinson Roberts, of South Creek, Gentleman.

As to my farm called Exeter Farm now in the occupation of said Charles Hutchinson Roberts and Thomas Stanton, to the use of Charles Roberts for the term of his natural life without impeachment…and after his decease to divide… into the same into as many equal portions as there shall be then living children…

The one-time cabinet maker left his writing desk and chiffonier to his eldest son: a memorable and treasured legacy.

The document went on to bequeath to his daughter Mary Jane (now Mrs Smith) and her children, the rents from his house and adjoining cottages in Castlereagh St, Sydney. Two houses in Elizabeth St were left to his second daughter Hannah (now Mrs Levien) and her children.

Then:

And as to my property called ‘Woodbine Cottage’, known as ‘Gray’s Grant’, in trust for the said Elizabeth Shaw during the term of her natural life and from and after her decease equally share and share alike to the use of Louisa Roberts, and {Harrietta} Amelia Roberts, my reputed children by the said Elizabeth Shaw, as tenants-in-common.

I also give and bequeath to Albert Roberts, son of the said Elizabeth Shaw, and to the said Louisa and Amelia Roberts, the clear sum of five hundred pounds upon their respectively attaining the age of twenty-one years or, in the case of Louisa and Amelia being sooner married, and I direct that the said Legacies each shall take effect immediately upon my death and …be invested by my trustees …and the interest or dividends thereof shall, until they attain such age (or if the said Louisa and Amelia be married) be paid to their mother Elizabeth Shaw, towards their support, maintenance and education.

I direct my trustees to sell and dispose of the rest of my estate to pay all encumbrances and debts and to divide any surplus equally amongst said Charles Hutchinson Roberts, Mary Jane Smith and Hannah Levien.

I declare that the shares of all females under my Will shall be secured to their sole and separate use, free from the control, debts or engagements of any husband…

…dated 23 December 1856

This document, written sixteen months before his death, demonstrates Thomas’ view of his family and his role as father to his children, those born to his first wife Hannah, and his later children with Elizabeth. He left a legacy for each, providing for sons and daughters alike. His direction about his daughters’ legacies was progressive for this time. He was explicitly protecting Mary Jane, Hannah, Louisa, and Amelia from the common law rule by which a husband automatically controlled his wife’s property upon marriage. That he included this clause for his illegitimate daughters alongside his legitimate ones, speaks of his acknowledgment of them and his desire to provide for their futures.

His provision for Elizabeth confirms that theirs was a genuine and committed relationship. ‘Housekeeper’ was an accepted euphemism for a de facto wife, and his recognition of all three of their ‘reputed’ children (another common euphemism, meaning illegitimate) makes it clear that by the time Amelia and Albert were born, the relationship was no longer hidden. They were a couple, even if Elizabeth’s still-married status meant they could not formalise their union.

In an attempt to resolve the legal constraint on their marrying, in 1857 (nearly a year after Thomas had made his will) she had advertised in The Sydney Morning Herald, asking for contact from her estranged husband Anthony Shaw (who had added ‘Henry’ to his names) It read:

HENRY ANTHONY SHAW, carpenter, formerly of Parramatta, supposed to be at Wollongong, if living, your wife ELIZABETH, wishes to communicate by letter. Address to me, at Mr Riley’s, Park-Street, Sydney.[lxii]

Missing

There was a notable absence from the will:

And I further declare that for reasons which will be fully understood by my son Thomas Roberts, I advisedly and intentionally abstain from giving his any benefit whatsoever under my Will.

Thomas junior was deliberately denied any legacy, in careful legal language which his father hoped would avoid any challenge to the will after his death, but perhaps also to save the family or the younger Thomas embarrassment that could arise from airing the reasons publicly. Why?

Two months before signing his will, Thomas senior had placed a notice in The Sydney Morning Herald, warning that he would not be responsible for any debts his son incurred, he being a minor, and allowed sufficient income to defray all his personal expenses.[lxiii]
Had his son fallen into dissolute ways, gambling, drinking or otherwise spending more than his income allowed?

Thomas Junior was twenty-two when his father died. Seven months after, he married Elizabeth Ann Woodd, daughter of Reverend George Woodd, at St Mary the Virgin, a private chapel built at Denham Court (another large pastoral estate that expanded to become a small community; now a suburb in the Campbelltown area).[lxiv]

By the 1870s he was working as the Sub-Inspector of Police in the Young and Hay districts. He died in Melbourne in 1876: his body returned by steamer and buried at Rookwood Cemetery; organised by his brother Charles.[lxv] Obituaries described him as a gentleman in every sense {who} always treated his inferiors as he did his superiors, and his demise is deeply regretted by all who had the pleasure of knowing him.[lxvi]

 It’s hard to imagine him as someone guilty of some great moral or legal misdeed—though families often hide unpalatable secrets, so it’s not impossible that Thomas had offended his father enough to be cut out of inheritance. But his brother’s effort to have the body returned from Victoria to be buried close to home, shows that the close family ties were not cut.

Elizabeth’s story will be continued in the next post…

---

[i] NSW Death Certificate Transcription, Mary Ann Greenwood Reg no 1858/5056

[ii] https://ageofrevolutions.com/2023/04/24/a-low-surly-growl-returning-to-britain-after-the-napoleonic-wars/ Accessed 6 March 2026

[iii] Catherine Arnold, Underworld London: Crime & Punishment in the Capital, Simon & Schuster 2012 p153

[iv] Globe, Wednesday 04 June 1834 p. 4, via https://australianroyalty.net.au/, accessed 8 March 2026

[v] William was born in May 1832 and baptised in Parramatta the year after their arrival: Reference Number: REG/COMP/3; Description: Vol 03, Baptisms, 1834-1838; Parish: St. John’s Anglican Church Parramatta.
 Via Ancestry.com, accessed 8 March 2026

[vi] https://www.prisonhistory.org/, accessed 8 March 2026

[vii] Australian Joint Copying Project. Microfilm Roll 90, Class and Piece Number HO11/9, Page Number 405 (204)
Via https://australianroyalty.net.au/tree/purnellmccord.ged/source/S81/State-Library-of-Queensland-Convict-Transportation-Registers-Database-1787-1867-database-on-line, accessed 8 March 2026

[viii] Ian Nicholson, Log of Logs vol 1, Published by the author jointly with The Association for Maritime History, p202

[ix] https://freesettlerorfelon.com/convict_ship_george_hibbert_1834.htm, accessed 8 March 2026

[x] There is no accurate shipboard record of the number and names of the children accompanying Mary Ann. One record incorrectly states that she had five sons and two daughters with her – almost certainly an error in the original or its later transcription. The names of the younger children appear when they are admitted to the Orphan Schools after disembarkation.

[xi] https://freesettlerorfelon.com/convict_ship_george_hibbert_1834.htm, accessed 24 March 2026

[xii] Bateson, Charles: Convict Ships 1787-1868, Library of Australian History, 1983, pp 352-353, 389

[xiii] New South Wales and Tasmania, Australia Convict Musters, 1806-1849, Class: HO 10; Piece: 33. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 8 March 2026

[xiv] Sydney Morning Herald 18 Dec 1834 p2, Via Trove, accessed 24 March 2026

[xv] State Archives NSW, Series 4/2246.4, Male orphan School 1834, Letter 34/9179 16 Dec 1834

[xvi] NSW, Australia, Registers of Convicts’ Applications to Marry, 1826-1851, State Archives NSW; Series: 12212; Item: 4/4513; Page: 7. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 25 March 2026

[xvii] Jenny Pearce, Kings School Archivist, personal correspondence 26 & 27 March 2018

[xviii] https://www.whitlam.org/history-of-the-female-orphan-school, accessed 25 March 2026

[xix] NSW, Australia, St. John’s Parramatta, Marriages, 1790-1966, Reference Number: REG/COMP/3; Description: Vol 03, Baptisms, 1834-1838; Marriages, 1834-1838; Burials, 1834-1838; Parish: St. John’s Anglican Church Parramatta. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 26 March 2026

[xx] The National Archives; London, England, UK; Home Office: Settlers and Convicts, New South Wales and Tasmania; Class: HO 10; Piece: 16. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 26 March 2026

[xxi] NSW Australia, Colonial Secretary’s Papers, 1788-1856, Series: NRS 898; Reel or Fiche Numbers: Reels 6020-6040, 6070; Fiche 3260-3312. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 26 March 2026

[xxii] Australia Births & Baptisms 1792-1981, Henry Francis Shaw, FHL Film Number 993952. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 26 March 2026

[xxiii] State Archives NSW, 4/2413.2, Orphan School Application for apprentices 39/12945

[xxiv] State Archives NSW 4/2413.2, Orphan School Applications for apprentices 39/11967

[xxv] State Archives NSW, 4/2413.2, Orphan School Application for apprentices 39/12945

[xxvi] State Archives NSW; Series: 12212; Item: 4/4513; Page: 7, Register of Convict Applications to Marry. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 26 March 2026

[xxvii] State Archives NSW; Series: NRS 12202; Item: [4/4147], NSW Australia, Tickets of Leave, 1810-1869.
Via Ancestry.com, accessed 26 March 2026

[xxviii] Gov L Macquarie, Rules & Regulations for the management of female convicts at the new Factory at Parramatta, 31 Jan 1821, Via State Library NSW online, accessed 25 March 2026

[xxix] 1830 ‘Classified Advertising’, The Sydney Gazette and New South Wales Advertiser (NSW  1803 – 1842), 20 Nov p. 4., accessed 28 Mar 2026, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article2196551

[xxx] State Archives NSW; Roll: 856, Gaol Description and Entrance Books, 1818-1930. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 29 July 2019

[xxxi] Parramatta Female Factory Friends Newsletter, Autumn 2026 issue, p5.

[xxxii] NSW Government Gazette Wed 30 Sept 1835. Via Trove, accessed 12 June 2019

[xxxiii] The Sydney Gazette & NSW Advertiser, 21 Jan 1837, ‘Police Incidents’, p3. Via Trove, accessed 29 July 2019

[xxxiv] State Archives NSW; Series: NRS 12202; Item: [4/4146],NSW Australia, Tickets of Leave, 1810-1869. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 13 June 2019

[xxxv] Sydney, Australia, Anglican Parish Registers, 1814-2011, Mary Greenwood and George Chalker, 3 March 1841. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 27 March 2026

[xxxvi] https://www.monaropioneers.com/chalkerjh.htm, accessed 28 March 2026

[xxxvii] Australia, Marriage Index, 1788-1950; Sophia Greenwood & George Stevens 1841, Vol V. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 29 March 2026

[xxxviii] New South Wales, Australia, St. John’s Parramatta, Baptisms, 1790-1916, William Stevens baptism 1852. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 29 March 2026

[xxxix] State Archives NSW 4/2413.2 Orphan School Applications for apprentices, [39/7249]; 1926 ‘Old  Sydney’, Truth (Sydney, NSW: 1894 – 1954), 5 September, p24
Accessed 9 Jun 2026, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article168725762

[xl] 1844 ‘Advertising’, The Sydney Morning Herald) 14 June, p1. Via Trove, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article12423515 accessed 29 Mar 2026

[xli] 1840 ‘Police Report’, Australasian Chronicle (Sydney, NSW : 1839 – 1843), 28 February, p2. Via Trove, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article31727700 accessed 29 Mar 2026

[xlii] Sydney, Australia, Anglican Parish Registers, 1814-2011, Ellen Greenwood & George Simpson 24 Jan 1848. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 29 March 2026

[xliii] https://www.riverstonehistoricalsociety.org.au/blog/?page_id=193, accessed 29 March 2026

[xliv] “Berrima Quarter Sessions.” Morning Chronicle (Sydney, NSW :1843 – 1846) 18 December 1844 p3.
Via Trove, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article31744242ccessed 30 Mar 2026.

[xlv] Sydney Morning Herald Mon 8 Jan 1844, Advertising, p3. Via Trove, accessed 30 March 2026

[xlvi] Carol Liston, Historical biography relating to land ownership along the South Creek corridor, Sydney, Australia (2014), University of Western Sydney. Dataset available at State Archives NSW

[xlvii] Deed of mortgage, James Badgery to Andrew Badgery and Thomas Roberts, General Register of Deeds, Book 6, Page 146, NSW Land Registry Services, HLRV, NSW LRS, https://hlrv.nswlrs.com.au. Accessed 6 June 2026

[xlviii] Primary Application 8474, Parishes of Bringelly and Cabramatta NSW State Archives references: AONSW 6/10119 and K260298

[xlix] The Australian 22 July 1845 p3, Via Trove, accessed 26 Feb 2026

[l] Sydney, Australia, Anglican Parish Registers, 1814-2011, Harrietta Amelia Shaw, 30 Aug 1846. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 30 March 2026

[li] Australia Death Index, 1787-1985, Harrietta Amelia Tucker, 20094 /1926. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 30 March 2026

[lii] https://www.findagrave.com/memorial/188503611/louisa-agnes-curby, accessed 31 March 2026;
Australia Marriage Index, 1788-1950 Louisa Roberts & Joshua Curby reg 196/1867; Aust Birth Index 1788-1922, Albert Roberts reg V1850568 35. Via Ancestry.com, accessed 31 March 2026

[liii] New South Wales, Australia, St. John’s Parramatta, Burials, 1790-1986 Henry Frances Shaw 30 March 1852.

Via Ancestry.com, accessed 31 March 2026

[liv] The Sydney Morning Herald Tues 15 Sept 1857 p8. Via Trove, accessed 31 March 2026

[lv] Bell’s Life & Sporting Chronicle, 26 Sept 1857. Via Trove, accessed 24 Feb 2026

[lvi] https://historyandheritage.cityofparramatta.nsw.gov.au/blog/2013/08/21/the-red-cow-inn-parramatta, accessed 1 April 2026

[lvii] Sydney Morning Herald 2 Dec 1856 p2. Via Trove, accessed 31 May 2026

[lviii] Sydney Moring Herald 9 March 1857 p2. Via Trove, accessed 31 May 2026

[lix] NSW Births Deaths & Marriages, Thomas Roberts reg 4781/1858

[lx] 1858 ‘Advertising’, Empire (Sydney, NSW: 1850 – 1875), 31 May, p 3 Accessed 8 Jun 2026, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article60422813

[lxi] 1859 ‘In Insolvency’, New South Wales Government Gazette (Sydney, NSW: 1832 – 1900), 13 December, p2742. Accessed 8 Jun 2026, http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-article228603904

[lxii] Sydney Morning Herald Sat 7 Nov 1857 p1. Via Trove, accessed 27 May 2026

[lxiii] The Sydney Morning Herald, 2 Oct 1856 p1. Via Trove, accessed 1 June 2026

[lxiv] Sydney, Australia, Anglican Parish Registers, 1814-2011, Thomas Roberts & Elizabeth Woodd 1858. Via Ancestry, com, accessed 4 April 2026

[lxv] The Evening News Fri 4 Aug 1876 p3; Pastoral Times Sat 5 Auf 1876 p2. Via Trove, accessed 4 April 2026

[lxvi]  Australian Town & Country Journal Sat 5 Aug 1876 p6. Via Trove, accessed 4 April 2026

^*Probate pack for Thomas Roberts at NSW State Archives: Thomas Roberts Date of Death 14 April 1858, Probate Granted 19 May 1858, State Archives NSW NRS-13660-1 [14/3302]-Series 1-4058