Cascades Female Factory:

Cascades Female Factory wasn’t just a prison, it was where female convicts were broken, rebuilt, or left behind. Set against the shadow of Mount Wellington, it operated from 1828 to 1856, locking away women for petty crimes, defiance, or just being poor.

Harsh punishments? Check.
Endless labour? Check.
Stories that stick with you? Absolutely.

•  Just 10 minutes from Hobart CBD:
  • Quick drive or bus ride.
  • Sits in South Hobart, tucked away but still heavy with history.

•   The remains of Yard 1:
  • Stone walls that held hundreds of women, from prostitutes (so-called) to political prisoners.
• Solitary cells and the punishment yard:
  • Imagine standing where women were flogged or locked away in darkness.
• Interpretation displays and guided tours:
  • Get a feel for the daily grind, laundry work, discipline, childbirth, survival.

•   Women as Currency:
  • Female convicts were often assigned to settlers as servants. Misbehave? You were hauled back to Cascades.
• Babies born behind bars:
  • Many gave birth here, some babies died within those walls. There’s even a memorial for them.
• Resistance:
  • Some women fought back against the system, refusing work, cursing guards, or escaping. Their punishments? Brutal.

•   Book a guided tour or experience:
  • The theatrical tours? They bring the stories to life.
• Pair it with Hobart’s Battery Point or Salamanca:
  • Make a convict-era day of it.

Nestled at the base of Mount Wellington, the Cascades Female Factory feels tucked away, but in its heyday, it was anything but peaceful. From 1828 to 1856, thousands of transported women passed through its five sprawling yards. Some were new arrivals. Most were there for stepping out of line, talking back, getting drunk, trying to escape.

The place? Slapped together in an old rum distillery(because heaven forbid the colony spend money on a proper prison for women and their kids). By the 1850s, it held over 1,000 women and 175 children, the colony’s largest Female Factory. It wasn’t just a prison. It was a laundry, hospital, nursery, hiring depot, a factory of punishment, where labour and survival blurred together.

And the class system? Brutal.

Third-class women were the troublemakers, stuck on meagre rations, working the hardest jobs. First class? You might land a spot with a settler, serving in their house. No pay. Just a roof and food. That’s how the system “rewarded” good behaviour.

But when New South Wales stopped taking convicts in the 1840s, the pressure exploded. Too many women, too few cells. They tried to fix it, built the Ross Factory, even moored the Anson hulk, a floating prison ship, off the coast. None of it worked. Overcrowding, disease, hopelessness, it all churned on.

By 1856, the transportation era ended, and Cascades was officially proclaimed a gaol. But the stories stayed behind, etched in the stones, echoing through the empty yards.