As most historians will be only too aware, even in this day of digital archives, we often need to consult several different sources in order to build a picture of our ancestors. Some websites have some documents; others have different ones, which means we need to cross-reference and check these sites and what they hold to ensure we have as many details as possible about an individual.

However, with the ever-increasing number of archival documents being placed online, it has never been easier to try and learn about our ancestors’ lives – particularly, their criminal careers. This month, I’ve been looking at one Londoner to find out about his life and crime – and how he ended up on the other side of the world.

Simon Solomon was born in 1811 in London, and was a hawker. He appears in the records of the Old Bailey in 1831 – he was tried there, on 1 December, charged with stealing 60 yards of printed cotton on 29 October. His record can also be found in The National Archives’ Newgate Prison Calendar (HO77), on TheGenealogist.

The trial records show that he stole the cotton from linen draper Jabez Ranwell, who had a shop at Bedford Place, off Commercial Road in Whitechapel. On 29 October 1831, at 4.30pm, Ranwell’s assistant, Charles Brent, had tied some new printed cotton to a chair outside the shop. He then left and walked up Commercial Road, before turning down Philpot Street, where he bumped into Simon Solomon, who was carrying the cotton. On being faced with Charles Brent, Solomon dropped the goods and ran off. Brent lost track of him, but called “Stop thief!”. He was heard by a local man, John Sherod, who apprehended him. Another man, Samuel Westgate, gave evidence, saying that he saw Solomon take the prints and walk away with them – he had not been able to catch the man, but had gone straight to the shop to report the theft to Jabez Ranwell.

Simon Solomon was just 20 years old when he appeared at the Old Bailey, and heard the verdict that he had been found guilty and sentenced to seven years’ transportation. This sentence sound harsh to us, but the value of the goods he had stolen was valued at 30 shillings – this was regarded as a serious theft, and in previous times he would have faced the death sentence: grand larceny, the theft of any goods over the value of 12d, was punishable with death. Luckily for Simon, in 1827, the separate offence of grand larceny was abolished, with both grand and petty or petit larceny – the lesser charge – being replaced by simple larceny.

Simon was transported to Australia on the Lady Harewood – a ship first launched in 1791. Simon was on the ship’s third and final voyage to New South Wales; it set sail from Portsmouth in March 1832, and arrived at Sydney Cove on 5 August. On board were 200 convicts – all male – and, perhaps surprisingly given the notoriously poor conditions on convict ships, only one convict died on the voyage.

He was with convicts who had been sentenced both at the Old Bailey and around England – these included John Shortin, who had been convicted at the Norwich City Quarter Sessions in October 1831, and William Cox, convicted at Northampton. Others came from Suffolk, Sussex, Warwick, Worcester, Wiltshire, Chester and elsewhere, with one, George Roe, having been convicted from far further afield, at the Corfu Court Martial back in December 1830 (the website http://oldbritishnews.com/

convicts/index.php/transported_

convicts-286/ has more details of those on board). Drawn from these disparate places and courts, they were kept in close confines on an insanitary ship for five months, travelling from familiar territory to a place they knew little or nothing about.

Simon received his ticket of leave on 2 October 1837, nearly six years after his conviction. Two years later, on 21 May 1839, he was granted his certificate of freedom. This certificate, which is available to view online, has a wealth of detail about what Simon looked like: he was small by modern standards, at just under five feet three inches; he had brown, curly hair and grey-blue eyes, and it reads as though he had eyebrows that met in the middle – a monobrow. He also had a disfigured fingernail on his left hand.

Although it’s not possible to build a picture of Simon’s entire life, the granting of his certificate of freedom isn’t the last mention of him online. The Sydney Morning Herald for 9 August 1849 – ten years later – shows that he had remained in Australia (many former convicts were unable to return to the UK due to cost, while others settled and had families in Australia). The newspaper – which can be found on the Trove website – notes that:

Simon Solomon, who stated he was free by servitude, having arrived in the colony in the year 1832, was apprehended on suspicion of being a runaway&helli; having nothing to show for his liberty, [the] filthy and neglected appearance of Solomon was enough to raise the suspicion of anyone meeting him. He was ordered to be sent to Sydney to be identified. The police magistrate stated his determination to deal with all such persons in a similar way as fast as they appeared in the town, or as long as the roads were infested by such idle and suspicious characters.

If Simon Solomon continued to have a difficult and poverty-stricken life in Australia, then it may have been scant pleasure for him to learn that Jabez Ranwell – the man from whom he had stolen, and as a result of which was sent across the world – did not have a peaceful life. Firstly, as a shopkeeper with a lot of goods that were tempting for the opportunistic thief, he spent quite a bit of his time prosecuting these individuals. The Old Bailey Online shows that after Simon Solomon’s case in December 1831, he is mentioned again – firstly, he gave evidence when Eliza Reay was accused of theft in July 1832, having stolen several items including lengths of printed cotton, silk and calico as well as 36 pairs of gloves, and two dresses from a neighbouring Commercial Road draper.

In that case, Ranwell gave evidence that the accused had been a frequent shopper at his own drapery, and that he had noticed goods missing after her visits. Eliza Reay was only 13 years old at the time she went on trial, but she was convicted and transported to Australia for 14 years (her parents Robert and Sarah were acquitted of receiving the stolen goods). Still a child, she had stolen more than the adult Simon Solomon, and her sentence was twice as harsh. Then, when Henry Eames was accused of stealing 35 yards of flannel from him in November that year, Ranwell again spoke in court to say he recognised the stolen goods because his mark was on them. Henry, aged 27, was convicted but recommended to mercy, and received the relatively lenient sentence of 14 days in prison.

Jabez Ranwell was obviously a law-abiding individual, and when he saw an offence being committed would report the person in question. This is understandable, given that he faced financial loss from theft. However, his actions had long-term implications, for at least two people saw themselves sentenced to transportation to Australia, but his morals meant that he preferred this to individuals getting away with theft.

Note: Eliza Reay may not have been transported at the time of her conviction for stealing from Jabez; there is a subsequent record for a 19-year-old of the same name, who was tried for theft in the same area in 1836. This trial referred to Eliza having a previous conviction; she was convicted again, and this time sentenced to transportation for life. This Eliza duly arrived in Australia, and the Digital Panopticon website, which draws together different records, show that she applied to get married there in 1839, but later absconded twice, in 1841 and 1843.