Ancestors who got into trouble with the law will feature in most family trees. Undoubtedly, some were hardened criminals whilst perhaps others committed crimes out of desperation, or were just foolish. Some of those convicted may even have been innocent. Whatever the circumstances, to be arrested, imprisoned, separated from your family and accused publicly of a crime in court must have been a sobering experience. If found guilty the penalties could be severe. Whipping, incarceration, (often with hard labour), transportation or even execution could be your fate. There were also wider ramifications. In this article, I’ll be focussing on the repercussions experienced by the person’s family and local community, using a few examples of my own.

A few years ago, I discovered that in 1887, my great grandfather was sentenced to three months hard labour in prison. Josiah Simeon Thomas Bullock, aged nineteen, was convicted of stealing a pair of new boots when employed as a porter by the Great Western Railway (GWR) in Cirencester. (You can read the full story here). The most immediate consequence was that Josiah lost his job, though the GWR registers recorded mildly that he “Left Service”, without any further explanation. Josiah had already worked for the Great Western Railway for five years, starting out as a young lad of 14, but his conviction meant that he had to leave the railway industry. He became an insurance agent, moving back home to his parents who lived in Wyre Forest, Worcestershire. I wonder how his family reacted to the news? His father was the station master at Wyre Forest and was employed by GWR so Josiah had probably got the job originally through his father’s connections. It must have caused his father some embarrassment. I wonder whether Josiah wrote to his father to tell him what had happened. Alternatively, perhaps his father read about his son’s conviction in the newspaper or heard about it through his railway contacts. It was fortunate that Josiah’s family lived a long way away from Cirencester, making it easier to hide his fall from grace from the local community.

Another ancestor, David Dewey/Dewy, of Fisherton de la Mere, Wiltshire, had two run ins with the law. On April 20th 1811, he was imprisoned in the county gaol at Fisherton Anger, alongside his brother, George Dewey. George Dewey was accused of “feloniously stealing” a bushel of horse corn from John Davis and David Dewey was charged with aiding and abetting him. Another associate, James Canning, had allegedly received the corn, knowing it had been stolen. Luckily for the Dewey brothers, they were both found not guilty and acquitted but James Canning was not so fortunate. He was found guilty and sentenced to be privately whipped with two months in the county gaol.

A few years later, in 1814, The Salisbury and Winchester Journal reported that David Dewey had been convicted of assaulting John Davis. Whilst David Dewey was a labourer, John Davis was a wealthy landowner and the main employer in Fisherton de la Mere. He lived in a substantial manor house, opposite the church. Had David Dewey borne John Davis a grudge after being accused of stealing from him? Perhaps he had worked for John Davis. It was certainly foolhardy of him to strike a man of John Davis’ power and standing. David Dewey was found guilty and imprisoned for one month at the gaol in Fisherton Anger.

David Dewey’s conviction must have caused shockwaves in Fisherton de la Mere and been a huge topic of conversation around cottage hearths. When an ordinary working man is accused of a crime against a rich landowner, you can imagine that opinions were polarised. It would be natural for other labourers in the parish to be sympathetic towards David Dewey whilst the rector of Fisherton de la Mere and other friends of John Davis would probably have been pleased that David Dewey had finally got his just deserts. Unfortunately, there is no detailed information on the assault. Did David Dewey actually cause John Davis bodily harm? There is also the question of character. Perhaps John Davis was a fair man and a good employer who treated the poor with kindness, whilst David Dewey was hot-headed and prone to bouts of drunkenness. Maybe the opposite was true. John Davis could have been despised locally and perhaps severely provoked David Dewey. I suspect that the labourers of Fisherton de la Mere probably rallied around David’s wife, Betty, and her family, even if they did not dare to say too much publicly for fear of losing their jobs.

The saddest story that I have found involving crime concerns George Thorndike, my great grandmother’s older brother who was born in Cliffe, Kent, in 1861. The Thorndike family ran the Victoria Inn on the High Street. This was one of several public houses in Cliffe that served the huge numbers of young labourers who had been drawn to the employment opportunities available at the local cement works. After a hard day’s work, many would quench their thirst at the Victoria Inn, which also provided accommodation. Nine labourers were lodging there when the 1881 census was taken.

The Thorndikes were a well-respected family who had arrived in Cliffe from Suffolk in the early 1850s. Since they were a large family in the area, George Thorndike would have had a lot of relations in the village. After leaving school, he became an farm labourer. He first got into trouble with the law in 1883, when, along with two other cronies, he was charged with assaulting 18 year old Caroline Mills:

All three youths were found guilty and were fined and in addition, had to pay court costs. George’s family must have been horrified at his behaviour. Running the Victoria Inn meant that they had a very public profile in the village. You can imagine how drinkers in the pub would have discussed the case in detail over their pints. Did George’s father visit the Mills family to apologise on his son’s behalf? Unfortunately, this incident was indicative of the path in life that George was choosing. Some years later, he was in court again after being arrested for theft:

Further details of the case were reported in the local newspaper:

George Thorndike, a gardener, appeared before the West Kent Quarter Sessions Court in Maidstone on 7th April 1883 accused of housebreaking. On March 13th, he had entered the house of George Barnes at Cliffe and stolen a gold ring and eighteen shillings from the bedroom. Whilst still in the house, Harry Barnes, the son of George Barnes, came back home for tea and found George Thorndike in the house. A Prudential Assurance Company agent named Emmett had also come along and was named as a witness. Although he had been caught red-handed, George claimed he was innocent. However, he was found guilty and sentenced to three months hard labour in prison.

In the 1881 census, George Barnes, a 40 year old cement labourer, lived at 1 Ann Villas, just behind Reed Street, a mere five minutes walk away from the Victoria Inn. The Barnes family had five young children at the time, the eldest being Harry aged 11. You can imagine how word spread that George Thorndike, known by most of the village and certainly the regulars at the Victoria Inn, had stolen from a neighbour. These were the people he had grown up with and would have included work colleagues and family friends. It must have been hugely upsetting to the Thorndike family.

Unfortunately, the tale does not end here. The following year, George Thorndike appeared in court again, this time accused of the theft of a mare. It seems that despite his prison term the previous year, he had not mended his ways:

George Thorndike was accused of stealing a mare, the property of John Nunn of Frindsbury. Presumably he intended to sell the animal but what was he thinking! A horse is difficult to hide and would need regular feeding. Frindsbury was a neighbouring parish and although he had not been seen taking the mare, it was found in his possession four days later. He had docked her tail, no doubt to hinder identification.

George Thorndike was found guilty of the theft and sentenced to twelve months hard labour at the West Kent Quarter Sessions Court, a more severe sentence on account of his previous conviction. The villagers in Cliffe would have read all about his conviction in the newspaper:

There is a sad postscript to the story. George Thorndike had almost completed his sentence when he suddenly fell ill. On April 17th he died at West Kent General Hospital. An inquest was held that evening and the coroner recorded that he died from peritonitis.

The death was reported in the local newspaper the next day:

George’s mother, Ann Thorndike, had rushed to Maidstone to attend the inquest that was held on the evening of her son’s death. I wonder how she had heard of her son’s death so quickly. Had the prison informed her when he had been taken ill the day before? Although widowed, Ann was a formidable lady who took on the running of the Victoria Inn for many years after her husband’s death in 1890. Whatever he had done, George was still her son and she loved him. She now had to take his body home and he was buried in the churchyard at Cliffe five days later, his residence recorded as “Her Majesty’s Prison, Maidstone”:

I don’t imagine George Thorndike was a popular man in Cliffe, given his previous crimes. However, sympathy must have been with his mother. She had probably been looking forward to his release and had plans for the future. Sadly, her hopes had been cruelly dashed.

Josiah T.S. Bullock, David Dewey and George Thorndike all spent time in prison as a result of their crimes. George Thorndike ultimately died in prison and must have caused great heartache to his family, particularly his mother. Clearly, loved ones and local communities would have been affected deeply and not have remained unscathed. In some cases, spouses would endure separation and children might be deprived of a parent and breadwinner. Depending on where sympathies lay, families could face ostracisation from their neighbours or support. When loyalties were divided, there was the possibility that the conviction could tear a community apart. Certainly, the repercussions would be felt for a long time.

© Judith Batchelor 2024