My convict ancestor

We first heard that we had convict ancestors in 1990 when we received news that a group of family members in New South Wales and Queensland had researched our family's history and produced a book, A Battle against the odds, about pioneers of the Hawkesbury River, Box Hill and the Nelson regions outside Sydney.

In the book we found information about my great-great-grandfather, John Smith, who  was convicted of burglary and  theft on 3rd April 1816 in London. John Smith was sentenced to death but was granted a reprieve and was transported to New South Wales on the convict ship the Sir William Bensley.

Proceedings of his 1816 trial at the Old Bailey make fascinating reading: Ref t18160403-4

My great-great-grandfather was nineteen when he stood on the dock of the Old Bailey in London and heard the presiding judge, Lord Ellenburough, read his sentence.

 Lord Ellenburough, the presiding judge at the trial of John Smith

John was accused of entering the house of Edmund Simkins with the intention being to steal a looking-glass. He was convicted on the evidence of Edmund Simkins who apprehended him and took him to the local police station with the assistance of a passer by.

 An excerpt of the trial transcript is here:


"EDMUND SIMKINS. On the 17th of February last, in the evening, at about a quarter past seven o'clock, I was sitting in my kitchen with my family, at my house, No. 24, Greenfield-street, Commercial-road, at the parish of St. Dunsten Stebonheath, and I was alarmed by something over me, as if something had dropped; some one of the family exclaimed, there is someone in the parlour; that was the room above. I immediately ran up stairs, and discovered the prisoner with a glass, resting on the ledge of the window; it was a looking-glass; the window was open; the shutters had been put to; the sash was thrown completely up. I was in the room not ten minutes before; it was then down. I have not a doubt but that the prisoner at the bar, who was in the room, had opened the window; the sash is fastened down by a catch, or a window drop. I found this catch forced from the window, and lying on the floor. This is part of the catch; that had been entire, and fastened to the window, and I found this knife also in the room; it was not there ten minutes before. I found the prisoner at the bar getting out at the window, with the looking-glass resting on the ledge; the glass was removed from its place. There is a little wooden railing outside, that he might have rested his foot on in getting out; he might have got out without breaking the glass or damaging himself. When I saw him getting out, I gave the alarm of stop thief; he had got one foot on the chair, and the other on the table. The watch was not set. I gave the alarm of stop thief, and a young man was passing, and saw him coming from the window, and threw him down into the kinnel, and I found him in his custody, when I secured him; this was about a quarter after seven o'clock, it was dark. When I went up, I had not a candle with me, but I knew the prisoner was the same man when I went round, because I have a lamp just opposite to me, and another by me. The prisoner is the same man whom I saw in the room. He begged very hard for mercy, and hoped I would let him go. I am sure the window was down when I went up about ten minutes before. No person could get in at the window, or force it up, without forceing this catch off."

 

Welcome to my new blog

Welcome to my new blog, Julia's Life Writing, where I plan to post pieces of my life writing and commentaries on other life writing. My life writing includes memoir, family history and travel memoir. 

I used to think the family stories on my father's side had all been told, because in 1990 members of our family contributed to a family history book that is now in the collection of National Library of Australia.

A Battle against the odds: stories of our pioneering families on Norfolk Island, the Hawkesbury River, Mulgrave Place, Green Hills, Box Hill and Nelson.

But now I realise that there are plenty more stories to tell.

My first piece of writing is a family snapshot about my paternal great aunt Eileen Smith. who also makes a brief appearance in A Battle against the odds. When I came across this fantastic photo of her as a young girl I had to write something of my memories of Eileen.

                                       Eileen Smith circa 1910

Childhood memories of Christmas Eve visits to Aunty Eileen

Every Christmas Eve in the 1950s, Dad used to take us to visit his aunty Eileen who lived above a shop on Parramatta Road in Ashfield, Sydney. Eileen was born in Nelson, New South Wales, in 1893 and married late in life to a teacher, Terence Beckett. They did not have children. Their home was in a old Victorian-era building and the entrance was up a long dark staircase. It had something of a gothic feel to it, with embroidered cushions and tapestries of lions and tigers on the walls and my childish imagination used to run wild. The adults would sit around drinking sherry, while we children would eat Christmas cake and stare at the old paintings and tapestries.

Dad had a legion of aunts and uncles as his father was one of 10 children. Eileen was the youngest and reputedly the rebel in the family. In reality all that meant was she was brazen enough to challenge the teachings of the Catholic Church and she loved shocking the more devout members of the family. On one occasion the parish priest came around with a vial of holy water ready to bless the family home. He proceeded to enter each room tipping the water into his hand and sprinkling it around. But Eileen was sceptical of the whole procedure and quipped: 'so does that mean we don't need to get the Flick man again?'

Aunty Eileen was very musical, played the piano and had an wonderful singing voice. She and her sister heard Dame Nellie Melba perform in Sydney the early days.

In 1946, when my mother and three-year-old Pat arrived from Canada, Dad took them around to meet his Australian family. All the clan were gathered in the front parlour of our grandparents' home in Churchill Avenue, Strathfield. As they entered the room aunty Eileen, seated at the piano, burst into song – a rousing rendition of O Canada. My mother was totally overwhelmed.

In the 1960s Eileen and her older sister, Margaret, moved into an aged care home in Rooty Hill, Sydney. Eileen was still a feisty, independent lady, even in her 80s and she would take the train alone all the way into the centre of Sydney, with a handbag full of cash for shopping. The family were always fearful she would get mugged, and begged her not to go, but that just made her more determined. Eileen died in Sydney in 1986 at the grand old age of 93.