Glimpses into the 19th Century Broadside Ballad Trade

We look to a regional newspaper, Jackson's Oxford Journal, for the bulk of coverage of the first murder, that of John Kalabergo by his nephew, Giovanni.  A report printed in January 1852 begins the trail:

On Saturday evening last a murder, attended with circumstances of atrocious and mysterious character, was committed on the Williamscot road, about four miles from Banbury, and not far from the high road between Banbury and Daventry …3

John Kalabergo (born Giovanni) was a well-known and well-respected jeweller and a maker of clocks, watches and barometers, resident in the area for some forty years previous.  It was evidently his habit to drive a horse and cart around the district selling his wares and, on occasions he was accompanied by his nephew, Giovanni.  It should be added that the young Giovanni did not speak English well.4

Referring to John Kalabergo, apropos his movements around the district, the report says:

… On Friday morning the 9th inst.  He started on one of those journeys, accompanied by a nephew, who lives with him, and they were on their way home on the following evening; when the deceased and his nephew got out to walk down Williamscot Hill.  While the deceased was leading the horse, he was shot in the back of the head, and a wound, supposed to be caused in the same manner, was inflicted on the forehead.

The report described how 'Ward's van' ...  'was coming from Banbury' and one of the passengers, a Mrs Saul, was walking up the hill, presumably to save the horse, when:

… she saw something lying on the ground, which, on examination, proved to be a dead body; it being dark at that time, a light was fetched from an adjacent house, when the body was recognised as that of Mr.  Kalabergo.5

Then was set in train the events that led to Giovanni Kalabergo's conviction.  It was discovered, for instance, that no, 'plunder' had been taken from John Kalabergo's pockets so one line of enquiry, that of plain, immediate robbery, did not seem to be relevant.

However, Giovanni Kalabergo had fled the scene and, arriving in Banbury:

… had proceeded at once to the catholic Priest, Dr Tandy, to whom he communicated that he and his uncle had been attacked by three men, and one had shot his uncle; that, in consequence, he made his escape by climbing up a steep bank, whereby he lost his hat, which was picked up about thirty yards up the hill from the spot where the murder was committed.6

The police were, of course, called in and during their enquiries, suspicion fell on Giovanni's story. 

It looks as if the principal evidence against Giovanni Kalabergo was accumulated through a physical investigation, especially of his own dwelling quarters.  This emerges in Jackson's … coverage of events as well as those of other newspapers.  The Morning Post, for example (and this shows how the murder had attracted attention from far beyond the Banbury area), described how the prisoner's 'premises' were searched and how hats, a cravat – the latter stained with blood and gunpowder – and a bullet-mould were found; and then the key of the deceased's cart (the prisoner said that he knew nothing about it) 'in the soil of the privy'.  The stable was searched again on the following day and a pistol bag found containing powder, 'six bullets of white metal, one leaden bullet, and seven types of bullets'.  There was gunpowder in the pocket of the prisoner's waistcoat.7

At the official enquiry, various witnesses were called who, cumulatively, underlined the police suspicion of Giovanni Kalabergo's story.  At the close of the enquiry, as Jackson's … indicated, a verdict of 'wilful murder' was passed on Giovanni Kalabergo.8  Eventually, at the Oxfordshire Lent Assizes, the trial of the prisoner was enacted and a verdict of guilty proclaimed.9

It is worth noting that Mr Pain, on the prisoner's behalf, asked more than once for an interpreter to be brought from Italy but he was refused … It does seem that the prosecutors were of the opinion that the evidence against Giovanni Kalabergo was such that the request, even if met, would add nothing to the progress of the case.

Giovanni Kalabergo had made a bid for freedom.  Jackson's … tells us that:

On Monday night he attempted to escape from custody, at Wroxton, by suddenly throwing open a window of the room in which he was confined, and leaping from it …10

In fact, he sustained injuries that would have prevented him from moving around at all for some time afterwards.  Curiously – at this remove - the room in question, so we are informed, was situated in a public house.11  At any rate, a date for execution was set.  Giovanni Kalabergo tried to escape again, this time from prison – but was foiled.12

Subsequently, on the day of the execution:

… some thousands of persons were seen pouring into Oxford in all directions, and by day-light, an immense number had congregated on the New-road.13

The brief description as noted above mirrors a familiar progress of events and, predictably (given the moral tone of the time), Jackson's … felt it incumbent, in its report, to add that:

… The assembled crowd consisted principally of the working classes, including considerable numbers of females, and the rural population prevailed to a far greater extent than we ever recollect.14

We recall similar comments made on several other crowds at executions and pause only to note that it was almost standard practice to condemn the onlookers, taking care to specify their backgrounds.15

'It was estimated,' Jackson's … reported, 'that there were from 8,000 to 10,000 present'.  Evidently the crowd was well-behaved and dispersed quietly.  Nonetheless,

The streets of the city were crowded during the whole of the day, and towards the afternoon we regret to say that there were many cases of disturbance and drunkenness … 16

Once again, familiar aspects of behaviour during attendance at hangings is revealed – as noted in other articles in this series.

The execution was reported by newspapers up and down the country and confessions made by Kalabergo to his priest appeared in Jackson's … and, for example, The Morning Chronicle.17

This, then, was the outline case.  How did ballad-makers respond?

In fact, neither Steve Roud's database nor the Bodleian Allegro archive have any mention of ballads connected to the Kalabergo case but web sources have turned up a ballad written by a William Handy (1824-1896) of Ilmington.18  Broadside ballad history, it should be said, is dotted with named contributions even if most ballads, like most songs, are without attribution.  The evidence is that a number of these ballads follow the conventions of the majority.  Thus, forty years after the Kalabergo murder we find C.  F.  Brown writing his ballad on the death of Edith Jeal (as discussed in a previous article in this series) with echoes of phraseology - 'Come listen to my painful story' – found in much earlier balladry.  There are pieces from the printer William Upcroft in Norwich that follow the regular-seeming pattern of approach to subject-matter and these have the initials 'W U' on them, at least suggesting that the printer made up the ballads himself.  Besley of Exeter printed a song entitled A New Song Composed by Thos.  Heydon of Stratton, Cornwall.  On a most Dreadful Shipwreck, that happened at a place called Widemouth, near the Harbour of Bude, and the Town of Stratton, on the 23rd Nov.  1824 … in which the trilogy, common in balladry, of theme, image and archetype was prominent.  Steve Roud has identified some score of ballads written in familiar ballad style by one George Brown – including three Napoleonic ballads (and thus, incidentally, dispelling any notion of a peculiarly Irish thrust to those texts).  The extraordinary career of David Love in the north of England reveals the extent of his – rather rambling – ballad contributions.  The Norfolk ballad-writer, Samuel Lane, is an outstanding example of a ballad 'hack' even if his talents were centred mainly on a local political scene.  Certain names are referred to in the Merry (Bedford) list of ballads … 'Coventry Tom', the very first subject in this series, appears to have composed ballads.  To further speculation in this regard, we know that Catnach was responsible for ballads – as reported by Hindley; and that Pitts employed John Morgan.  None of this is news, of course; but it would help fill in the picture if more were to be discovered about ballad-writers themselves.19

The major point is that, in all cases, although one can detect individual traits in the writing, the pattern is very much as has been found in anonymous ballads.

William Handy, then, although he does write in a perhaps more self-conscious manner, sits comfortably enough in this panorama.

He actually proclaimed himself to be the 'Poet' Handy, even naming his cottage after himself, and has a fascinating other history to match this degree of self-promotion.  For example, he married three times but there were no children … However, his first wife, Esther Sandford, already had a daughter, Louisa, born around 1841 according to the 1851 census … not, perhaps, that unusual when economic survival was of prime consideration and second marriages were common enough.  Handy, at any rate, married Esther on September 25th 1849.  She was aged forty-one at the time, fourteen years Handy's senior.  The 1861 census records them as still married but it looks as if Esther died during the same year.  By 1871 Handy had, apparently married again – Eliza – who herself had, one presumes, died before the 1871 census was taken, when Handy was listed as a widower.  His third wife, Elizabeth, is recorded in the 1881 census and again in 1891.

An interview, conducted by a local clergyman, reveals much about Handy's life, insisting on his independent character, his intervention through short poems in affairs of the neighbourhood and his kindnesses and usually quiet demeanour – sometimes, it must be said, broken (see notes).

It is known that Handy composed at least three other ballads: A March Song for a Village Tea meeting – referencing a Union, perhaps the Agricultural Union founded a few miles away at Tysoe; an account of an unusually fierce hailstorm; and a ballad on a railway death at nearby Mickleton.  Further, the fact that Pratt, the Birmingham ballad-printer, took on the production of these ballads, is evidence that Handy knew well enough how the process of composition and dissemination worked … and how Pratt must have seen some advantage.  The other three Handy ballads were, in fact, printed alongside his Kalabergo piece in a single booklet, priced at one shilling.20

As a respectable member of the community21, though, it is even more interesting to discover Handy submitting his works to a printer in a trade that was not well regarded: that is, the trade of production of ballads and its particular association with ballad-sellers who were thought to be amongst the most unreliable, perhaps even un-moral sections of society and, like other travelling people, were often harassed and, as often, exhibited behaviour that might well have drawn the eye of the police.  Ballad-writers usually stayed in the background.  However, the chance (for Handy) to attract attention to his work – for purposes of his own self-regard - must have been hard to resist. 

Further still, there is what looks like a particular clinching argument in respect of Handy's acquaintance with balladry - he was, apparently, a 'travelling seller of ballads' himself.22

His own ballad is entitled Verses composed on the murder of G.  Kalabergo …

Ye natives of this land I pray,
That would your feelings show,
Come purchase now of me today,
Before I further go.

It is unusual to find a direct appeal to the pocket in balladry: perhaps an indication of Handy's sense of himself.

Generally, throughout the piece, the language is slightly less excited, perhaps, than that found elsewhere.  Yet, within Handy's narrative, there are distinct echoes, some of which suggest that Handy was familiar with the general characteristics of ballads. 

The piece is long enough – there are some twenty-eight stanzas – and Handy dips in and out of John Kalabergo's life-history:

A jeweller was this man by trade,
And oftimes travelled wide …

It is even remarked that John Kalabergo had brought his nephew across the sea:

In order that he soon might share,
His trade and property.

John Kalabergo's activities are described and, unsurprisingly:

… but no thought in his mind had run,
That he should soon be slain.

Tho' standing on the brink of death,
This wicked deed was planned,
And shortly after yields his breath
Unto a murderer's hand.

The journey up 'Willscott-Hill' is noted – sort of out of sequence - and, of the nephew:

This was the friend he thought to trust,
In care of all his wealth,
One on which you might think just
As worthy as himself.

Then a familiar tone emerges:

But man by nature's so defiled,
That came by Adam's fall,
And enters every mother's child,
And brings death on us all.

But none would think a man like this,
Possessed of such a friend,
Would sacrifice his hope of bliss,
To such a wicked end.

Handy does not, then, quite bewail the deed of murder in the sometimes exaggerated terms of other ballads; but condemnation is, as we would expect, prominent enough.

At this point the ballad, presumably for dramatic purposes, turns back to allow us to re-encounter the details of William Kalabergo's life; of how:

When a stranger to this land
His acts of love were shown,
To the distressed he lent his hand,
And so became well-known

Ask where you may is it's the same,
By high or low degree,
For miles around he bears the name,
"a man of charity".

The nephew's actions after the murder are then invoked: how he 'shortly ran for home' (the finding of the body by others has already been indicated), how, previously, he must have planned his deed and bought a pistol and a mould and then made bullets:

With which he meant to shoot his friend,
When he a chance could see,
Which caused his own life for to end,
Upon that fatal tree …

- my italics; but they underline how Handy knew some of the phrases that crop up in so many ballads.23  The nephew's confession to his priest is also cited and an appeal to God's mercy is imagined.  Again, many murder ballads contain the same sort of self-flagellation.24

"… Great God have mercy on my soul,
Though guilty as I be,
Pray wash me clean, and make me whole,
Through Christ who died for me.

"My sentence now is to be hung,
My friends will long bewail
The loss of me their wicked son,
Now lying in Oxford jail".

And there, Handy declares, 'This little rhyme I now must end'.

A second Kalabergo ballad can be located in the Oxford History Centre although there is no indication on it about the printer.  Its full title is Lamentation Of Kalabergo For The Murder Of His Uncle, At Banbury, Oxfordshire … ; and the content may be said to do very little to expand the narrative line.  The piece, instead, is compounded almost entirely of familiar phraseology, more or less distanced from the actuality of events and finishing before the day of execution.

It begins:

In Italy I was bred and born,
     At Oxford town I must die with scorn;
For murdering my uncle as you may see,
     As brought me to the gallows tree.

('the gallows tree' appears twice in the ballad – but there is no sign of 'fatal tree').  The opening two lines are, in fact, reminiscent of The Newry Highwayman … .25

There is then a switch of viewpoint where the observer not only begins a description of events but insists, with alleged insight of the nephew's relationship with his uncle, that 'To murder him the thoughts came in his mind'.  'Young' Kalabergo's secretion of a pistol is mentioned and then 'I gave my uncle his death wound' … ; following which is a rather un-necessary repetition, presumably included for dramatic effect:

Young Kalabergo is my name,
     I brought myself to grief and shame;
For murdering my uncle as you may see,
     As brought me to the gallows tree.

The next stanza yet again reminds one of much older balladry, not necessarily concerned with murder:

When I was brought into the hall,
     Down on my bended knees did fall;
My Lord have mercy I did cry,
     Now I'm condemned and I must die …

There is an appeal that 'none will reflect upon' the murderer's countrymen; and then, of:

All you that come to see me die,
     On Oxford gallows tree so high;
Beg to the Lord to pardon me,
     And think on my great misery. 

And following the appeal to God's mercy, almost inevitably we find another familiar aspect: 'All you young men a warning take'; and then, as the 'solemn bell' tolls, again 'May the Lord have mercy on my soul'.  All this is in direct line with expression in murder balladry as discussed in previous articles.

In a way this is a veritable potboiler, exploiting the simplest reactions of a public to known kinds of narrative.  In comparison, Handy's piece is more sophisticated if, at the same time, a trifle self-indulgent.  Overall, the ballads lie well within the compass of known character.

***

In the second murder case, dating from October 1858,

A painful feeling has prevailed in Banbury for some days past in consequence of a very serious affair which occurred in Calthorpe-lane, and which has resulted in the death of a woman, named Susan Owen …

This was how Jackson's Oxford Journal began its report on the death of Susan Owen.26  An inquest (at the Three Pigeons Inn, Neithrop, underlining a similar aspect of the case that transpired during the investigation of the Kalabergo murder) resulted in a verdict of 'Wilful Murder' against William 'Badger' Wilson, 'who was committed for trial at the next Assizes'.27  Witnesses indicated that Willson (a more usual spelling of the name) and Susan Owen were not strangers.  For instance, William Henson, shoemaker, living in a cottage in Calthorpe-lane, said that 'I had known them both for about twelve years; they lived together in Banbury'.28

Susan Owen and William 'Badger' Willson had indeed been living together – according to the Jackson's … first report cited above, for some fifteen years; and their current lodgings, at the Rose and Crown in Neithrop, then almost a separate district to Banbury, its nominal parent town, would not have been an unusual abode for those whose life-histories involved a degree of peripatetic and even casual habits.  In this connection, it has been suggested, bargemen may well have rested in such lodgings.29  Neithrop, at any rate, saw a good deal of rough and ready behaviour.  As instance, Petty Sessions reports for the three years previous to the murder reveal a sorry picture of drunken-ness and disorderly behaviour, assaults amongst husbands and wives and neighbours, stealing – from boots and shoes to turnip tops and potatoes and personal ornaments; and there were disputes over land and fences; windows were broken amongst other minor damages; absconding from service is noted; as was conviction for begging in the streets … a whole catalogue of small misdemeanours that, now and then, included reported instances (very few) of soliciting and some of attempted rape.  Neithrop, it should be said, does not offer a particularly unusual example of such behaviour, as consultation of newspapers elsewhere demonstrates well.

The more striking feature, to which we return, is the longevity of what was clearly an abusive relationship between Susan Owen and William Willson; but, it seems, the neighbourhood was, as it were, used to their quarrels. 

As to the immediate circumstances, Mary Fairfax, wife of John Fairfax, also living in Calthorpe-lane, said that:

We keep a spirit shop called "Gazey's wine and spirit vaults," next to the Rose and Crown beer-house, kept by Edward Rann.  I knew the deceased Sarah (sic) Owen and the prisoner Wilson; they lived, on the 12th of October last, at the Rose and Crown and had been there about three weeks; I did not know them before that time … 30

The gist of the immediate occurrence is that Susan Owen had been drinking locally on two successive nights, the first in company with a 'young man' when Willson had attempted to fetch her 'home'.  On the night in question, Mary Fairfax, a witness, indicated that Susan Owen had been 'tipsy' and, indeed, that she'd fallen over.  Willson had tried to persuade her to go back from where they were drinking to their lodgings at the Rose and Crown.  Evidently Willson got home before her and went to bed, only to rise again and enquire of the landlord if Susan Owen had come in.  Later still, the landlord heard the two talking and Willson urging her to go upstairs to bed.  Willson, according to the landlord of the Rose and Crown, Edward Rann, had sounded very kind to the woman.

The next morning, however, according to Edward Rann, Susan Owen appeared with her face in 'a dreadful state'.  She took to her bed again and subsequently died.31

In evidence, Mrs.  Rann, of the Rose and Crown, said that Willson had been beating Susan Owen 'very much'.  On the crucial day, Susan Owen had come in to the Rose and Crown and has asked Mrs.  Rann for two-penny-worth of rum and:

told me how "Bill" had been beating her.  She said he kicked her over the eye and showed me the place.  Both eyes were black then, but they were not discoloured on the previous evening.  She asked me to feel the back part of her head where he had kicked her.  I felt and found a "dent"; and then she said he had dragged her about the yard by the hair of her head … 32

This supports the evidence given by two other witnesses such as John Simmonds who said that he had encountered Willson:

And said to him what a rascal you must be to ill-use the woman who has been your support for so many years.  He answered "I will be her butcher," and clenched it with an oath.33

Willson's response may, perhaps, have been made on the spur of the moment but a picture of the man's treatment of Susan Owen had been drawn.  Willson further remarked to Edward Rann that 'If she dies, they will be sure to hang me'.  34

Susan Owen lingered from the assault on Tuesday 12th October 1858 until the following Sunday before she died.  The trial followed.

However, there was a codicil.  The 'dent' at the back of Susan Owen's skull that Mrs.  Fairfax had been privy to seems to have been a crucial element in her death.  The surgeon had found a blood clot and declared that Susan Owen had had an unusually thin skull.  The clot could have been 'activated' by anything, let alone blows such as that administered by Willson; so the jury, after deliberation, acquitted the man and it was only intimated that the treatment that Willson meted out to Susan Owen could have caused her death.35

One Susan Owen ballad has emerged so far.36  Entitled Copy of Verses On The Murder of Susan Owen at Banbury …, it is predictably partial in the sense that it does not encompass the eventual verdict in the case and, whilst 'literary' standards do not really apply, even in ballad terms it is rather clumsily put together with elements of bathos in the rhyme:

Of a dreadful murder you soon shall hear
Was done in Banbury in Oxfordshire …
One William Willson, how sad to tell,
Murdered Susan Owen, who was known full well …

There is an interjection that must surely imply the opportunity, at least, for the possible singing of a chorus, an indication, at least, that the ballad-maker had a process of dissemination in mind:

The murderer Willson, so cruel he,
Slew Sarah Owen, aged thirty-three …

Here, the giving of the wrong name is clear enough and – it may as well be said - Susan Owen was actually thirty-four when she died.37

Half of the ballad is then used to describe the lives that the principals led …

Many years they passed a disgraceful life –
They lived together as man and wife ; (sic)
He was idle, wicked, wretched, and mean,
She by prostitution supported him.

He beat and kicked her – disgraceful man; (sic)
A bigger villain never walked in the land; (sic)
What by prostitution she got night and day,
Her base paramour squandered away.

He lived in drunkenness, debauchery, and strife,
He ill used his victim by day and night,
When not enough she could get for he,
He did maltreat her most barbarously …

At least no punches are pulled.  The Handy ballad on the Kalabergo case, in comparison, is decidedly mild in its condemnations.  Perhaps the vicious circumstances of the relationship between Susan Owen and William Willson engendered that degree of horror that is absent from both Kalabergo ballads examined above but the linguistic phenomenon of dramatic and sometimes squalid recounting itself, even if we find it to be un-necessarily exaggerated, is striking.  And the unknown composer of the Willson ballad must have been privy to information that does not appear (for instance) in newspaper reports.  Handy, because he looks to have written after the full development of the Kalabergo case, is more circumspect.  This points up a contrast with the Handy poem on the death of William Kalabergo – which is much more measured and emcompasses the whole case from the time of the murder itself until the execution of Giovanni Kalabergo … the degree of self-consciousness in the writing being proportionate to a reflective process.

In the Susan Owen ballad, the manifestation of Willson's behaviour is outlined in the stanza following that given immediately above and where it was indicated how Willson beat and kicked Susan Owen once too often and how 'In a little while she was no more' (a feeble enough conclusion).  Then comes another imaginative claim, that 'To escape from Justice, the victim tried'.  In fact, as far as can be gathered, Willson (unlike Giovanni Kalabergo) made no such attempt – either physically or in verbal defence of his actions.

There follow three stanzas incorporating conventional lines, noting the 'dreary dungeon' in which Willson was resident and that he could expect nothing less than 'the fatal tree'; giving a stern warning to 'Young men and maidens to shun distress' brought on by prostitution and drunkenness and urging young people to lead sober, honest lives.  Thus, familiar features in ballad output can be seen to have been adopted.

Of Susan Owen, finally and rather clumsily put:

Her dreadful sufferings no pen can write,
The life she led no one can indite,
To support a villain poor Susan went astray,
And to reward her cruel did her slay.

The piece is peculiarly flat despite the horrific details – which is not, perhaps, how it appeared when it was issued in Banbury …

In the end, the piece takes its place well within the confines of what we expect when compared to the greater part of murder balladry available to us.  Its major exclusion is that of the verdict of the court, with nothing to suggest the startling outcome … To re-iterate, Willson was acquitted because of the condition of Susan Owen's skull before she was attacked.  This acquittal and others like it could well be explored further.  In several cases, men and women involved in murder did not hang … We think immediately of Constance Kent, William Graham, Edmund Pook (actually found not guilty of murder, contrary to reports in newspapers and to balladry).38

***

In a third Oxfordshire murder case, dating to 1872, Edward Roberts, enamoured of one Anne Merrick and thinking that she was as sweet on him, then being disillusioned by her refusal to countenance anything other than a casual relationship, quite suddenly took an axe and chopped at her head.  Anne Merrick lingered for several days before dying of the stroke.  Jackson's Oxford Journal carried full reports of the affair – and extracts are given below. 

Apparently, in the lodgings that Roberts shared with one John Godfrey, on Sunday 30th July 1871, Ann Merrick was washing the floor, when:

Roberts walked deliberately behind the girl, and, raising a hatchet with both hands, struck her a violent blow on the back of the head, near the right ear, felling her to the ground.  Screams were heard at the adjoining cottage, occupied by Thomas Lambert, and Godfrey rushed in saying, "For God's sake come in, or that fellow will murder the girl!"39

Roberts, seemingly quite calmly, walked out of the house and towards the local police station: 'I be come to give myself up'.40  Eventually, the police took Roberts back to the scene of the crime, meanwhile sending for both a surgeon and Anne Merrick's mother (from church).

It transpired that Roberts had more than once complained about Anne Merrick's evident indifference.  Indeed, one witness, Selina Lambourne, gave evidence that the day before the murder he had 'told me he was going to murder Ann Merrick, and then he was going to kill himself …'.

He said, "D- my heart if I don't," and swore dreadful.  I asked him to stay another week; he said, "No, Kitty, d- my heart if I must not do it," and he said, "She has served me bad enough." He said, "I will have her head and that other b- in Oxford have her body."41

After the incident, at the police station, Roberts admitted to his actions and, as Superintendant Cope avowed:

Roberts said "I loved that girl as I loved my life, and I hope her soul's in heaven … ' adding, "see what jealousy will do; jealousy has done this."42

At the Oxfordshire Lent Assizes, Roberts was 'charged with the wilful murder of Ann Merrick'.43  In one report, Roberts was referred to as 'Robins' – a mistake in newspaper reporting that goes with those found in the case of the Susan Owen murder.44  The law took its course and Roberts was sentenced to death.  Jackson's … commented on proceedings as follows:

Perhaps not within the recollection of any person living has the severest sentence of the law been carried out in any single instance in which the fate of the culprit has excited less sympathy then that shown in the execution of Roberts.45

In fact, a petition for a reprieve was submitted but 'met with no favour'.  Roberts was hanged on Monday 18th April 1872.46

We would guess little of this from the surviving ballad, printed by Disley, and which, like that concerning the murder of Susan Owen, takes us only up to the point where, after the initial enquiry, proceedings – the Assizes - were still to take place.  There is a prose introduction, a summary of events and some quotes, including the following (clearly lifted from Jackson's … ):

"I love that girl as I love my life.  See what jealousy will do.  It was jealousy that has done this".

Then, "she has served me badly, I hope she is dead …".

Similarly, the rest of this introduction taken up by the testimony of Mrs.  Lambourne, 'who lives next door to Merrick', and to whom Roberts declared that 'he ment (sic) to kill Ann that night or the next morning' and, further – when Mrs.  Lambourne demurred: 'Let him think of his soul and Ann's too' – 'Prisoner replied that as to his soul he did not care – hell was his portion …'; and, finally, spoke out again against Ann and her supposed 'man at Oxford'.47

Thus, because of this relatively comprehensive introduction, any impact that the ballad itself might have had would appear to have been reduced already.  This did not stop Disley, the London printer – who, as it happens, seems to have been particularly enamoured of the murder ballad genre.48  Just like newspapers, Disley seized on what was, considering his domicile in London, a relatively distant event and there must have been a strong commercial element in this, exploiting a well-worn appeal to a prurient public much in the way that newspaper reports sometimes did.

It is worth pointing out, all the same, that newspapers did not take up the case in the same widespread fashion as they had done with the Kalabergo murder – an inexplicable phenomenon.

At any rate, the ballad begins in familiar fashion:

You feeling Christians pray attend,
     And you shall quickly hear,
Of a most cruel murder,
     That occurred in Oxfordshire.

And when the facts of this foul deed,
     To you I do unfold,
It will make you start with horror,
     And your heart's blood to run cold.

We might note the opening line and the final lines that echo several others in the corpus of murder balladry.49

There follows a somewhat bathetic four-line 'chorus':

The author of this dreadful deed,
     In anguish now bewails,
To await his trial is now confined
     In a cell in Oxford Jail.

The presumption in the second line here is notable and is just as imaginary as are the lines in other ballads and akin to the scene in Oxford jail where Kalabergo also bemoaned his fate.  Once again in murder balladry, a febrile Christian context is invoked.  Otherwise, the storyline has already, as it were, come to a halt.  Despite this, the ballad proceeds to recount the circumstances of the murder from its setting in 'the quiet town of Witney' and to introduce the personnel – firstly, Esther Merrick, mother of the murdered girl; then Ann herself; and then 'the murderer Roberts'.  The mother, indeed,

… little thought what would befall
     Her darling daughter Ann,
Or that poor girl that she would fall,
     Beneath the murderer's hand …

And, with even more teasing out, bearing in mind that Roberts has already been introduced, in a further stanza we learn (my italics) that:

Now in her home with her did dwell,
     A man, Roberts by name,
who (sic) of this girl was jealous,
     which has caused this pain …

Roberts' actions are described in an abrupt and rather colourless manner and not before a typical journalistic detail (accurate, mind) makes its appearance when the:

Poor girl she got some water,
     To clean the kitchen floor …

Then:

The murderer fetched an axe,
     And dreadful to relate,
and (sic) beat the poor girl on the head,
     Oh! Shocking to relate …

Roberts 'was taken'; and 'now he lies in Oxford gaol' (it is interesting that this spelling is adopted as against the previous usage of 'jail').

Finally:

So all young men be warned in time,
     And take advice from me,
Think of Edward Roberts' fearful crime
     And (sic) beware of jealousy'.

This is, then, a modest piece, revealing standard practice – in its opening lines; in its employment of an equally standard suggestion of how the murder might impact on the reader - only a slight pause so as to record reaction to the event 'Oh! Shocking to relate'; incorporating advice to young men along with advice to young women and, indeed, to the public in general; and, finally, in giving the motive for murder as jealousy.50

We would probably assume commercial haste at work in issuing the ballad although the Witney Express, in the course of noting that, during the Witney feast of that year, 'The dancing booth was extensively patronised by country lads and lasses', and that there were various showmen and gipsies, 'all plying their several vocations with more or less success', also added that:

… Ballad singers - who introduced with indifferent rhyme and questionable taste the persons and scenes connected with the late murder in Witney - drove an extensive trade.51

There do not appear to be any more extant ballads that might recount anything to do with the trial and execution of Roberts. 

***

So, as these three ballads on Oxfordshire murders and the Berkshire ballad considered in the previous article in this series all show, the stream of murder balladry that continued right through the nineteenth century and onwards rarely stepped outside convention in description; and as frequently opened a salvo only to cease fire before any denouement was reached.  Almost incidentally, there are no header blocks on any of the ballads discussed as there were, for instance, in numbers in Norfolk collections as described in previous articles in this series … and, indeed, in general murder balladry.  Such additions would seem to have been very much a matter of whim.

It is worth remarking that, throughout murder balladry, a suspicion that, apart from some form of recounting of the particular affair, what was then written was written in expectancy of an established procedure – much as newspapers referred to the behaviour of crowds and, specifically, to ballad-sellers who paraded at executions selling the last dying confessions of murderers.  By the same token, the state of a prisoner's mind could only have been guessed at; yet routine - imaginary - exposures were common enough.

Always, too, social pressures are present: an outward urge towards Christian values, perhaps distended; and an equally strong adherence to social hierarchy.  These – more so to modern eyes, one would think – are combined in a deliberate, titillating exploitation of what are normally regarded as lesser instincts that skewed an age-old ritualistic view of the world and of relationships within it.

Roly Brown - 22.8.13
Oradour sur Vayres, France

Notes:

1. I am indebted to the Bodleian library for permission to quote from stock; to Steve Roud and correspondents on Pedlars Pack, to Rachel Hancock at the Oxford History Centre, to Tessa Rose at the Rare Books section of the Bodleian library; and to Witney and Banbury libraries – all for pointers and information in tracing copy; and then to Roy Palmer and Keith Chandler for ever-present help and advice.
2. See MT article, Glimpses … 39: A Berkshire murder ballad.
3. It is clear that this report was syndicated.  The Morning Chronicle (London) of Monday January 12th 1852, The Standard (London) of the same date, The Liverpool Mercury of Tuesday January 13th 1852and The Preston Guardian of Saturday 17th January 1852 all carried similar wording of the bulk of the first part of the report that can be found in Jackson's Oxford Journal of 17th January 1852.  The Daily News (London), incidentally, got it slightly wrong in reporting the death of 'Giovanni Kalabergo' (Tuesday 13th Januaryn1852) although John Kalabergo appears to have been known at one time by the Italian form of his name.
4. See The Daily News (London), Tuesday 13th January 1852.
5. Jackson's Oxford Journal, 17th January 1852
6. Ibid … Perhaps the aforesaid Dr.  Tandy spoke Italian!  As it happens, one Bernard Samuelson, of the Britannia Foundry, Banbury, having spent time in Italy where he learned something of the language, actually 'went to the deceased's house', where he was able to ask Giovanni what had happened – from whence sprang Giovanni's first account that lay the blame for John Kalabergo's death on men who attacked and robbed both John and Giovanni Kalabergo, an account dismissed during proceedings as being a fabrication (see Jackson's … of Saturday 24th January 1852).
7. The Morning Post (London), Tuesday January 20th 1852.
8. Jackson's … 28th February 1852; and also The Morning Chronicle (London), 6th March 1852.
9. Newspaper reports were widespread and 'Found Guilty' appears, for instance in Trewmans' Exeter Flying Post … (Thursday 11th March 1852) and the Nottinghamshire Guardian – same date.  Jackson's … (Saturday 18th March 1852) carried a portrait of Giovanni Kalabergo 'As he appeared when receiving the Sentence of Death on the 4th inst.  for the murder of his uncle, Mr.  John Kalabergo on the 10th January last'.
10. See Jackson's … 17th January 1852
11. See The Manchester Times, 17th January 1852.  Note that an inquest associated with the second Oxfordshire murder considered below also took place in a public house.
12. See The Morning Chronicle, Monday 15th March 1852.
13. See Jackson's … , Saturday 27th March 1852.
14. Ibid.
15. See The Times, 29th March 1845, p.  5.  Similar comments on the make-up of crowds may be found in association with the hanging of Thomas Drory and Sarah Chesham (Chelmsford Chronicle, 28th March 1851); of Mary Ann Ashford (The Western Daily Mercury, 19th March 1866); of Anne Lawrence and James Fletcher (Maidstone and Kentish Journal, 12th January 1867); of Hubbard Lingley (Norfolk Chronicle, 31st August 1867); and of Henry Farrington (Bury- St.  Edmund's - Free Press), 21st September 1867). 
16. The Times, 29th March 1852.
17. Again, reports of the execution would seem to have been syndicated.  For the confessions, see Jackson's … Saturday March 20th 1852 and The Morning Chronicle, Tuesday March 23rd 1852.
18. This can be easily Googled under the title, William 'Poet' Handy in Ilmington.  In addition, web sources associated with that article give a comprehensive geneaology of the Handy families.
19. For Besley, see the article, Besley of Exeter as MT 155.  For C.  F.  Brown, see MT article 278: A Berkshire Murder Ballad.  For David Love and his life as composer and distributer of ballads and, indeed, self-advertiser, see Michael Harris - A few shillings for small books: the experiences of a flying-starioner in the eighteenth century in Spreading the Word … The distribution networks of print 1550-1850 (St.  Paul's Bibliographies, Oak Knoll Press, New Castle, Delaware, 1998, pp.  83-108).  Love died in 1827.  More detailed information is being assembled on Upcroft and other Norfolk printers to go with the results of initial investigation as found in MT articles 201 and 202: Norfolk Printings of Murder and Execution, Parts 1 and 2.  For references to Samuel Lane, see MT article 217, Robert Walker of Norwich.  Hopefully, more information on Samuel Lane will appear in an article – in preparation - about Robert Walker's ballad stock.  For Hindley on Catnach, see The History of the Catnach Press (1887), p.  79 … For Morgan, see Leslie Shepard's book on John Pitts, published in London by the Private Libraries Association in 1969 - p.46. 
20. The Freepages article on Handy gives a reference to a copy of the Pratt pamphlet held at the BL (11641 L 11).  Roy Palmer does not include this pamphlet in his survey of Birmingham ballad printers (see MT article 252) but does list Verses, composed on the Dreadful Hailstorm that occurred at Shipston-on-Stour, and the Neighbourhood, on the 21st July, 1851 … (Pratt, No.  313).  A Madden copy of the broadside is available in VWML (Reel 88, Number 264). 
21. Handy's respectability was compromised in a dispute during 1866 when he appeared at the Petty Sessions in Shipston-on-Stour 'charged with having on the 30th ult.  wilfully knocked down a fence of a field belonging to the Rev.  J.  Young, at Ilmington' – not, it seems, a first offence of a similar kind.  The interview cited in text above suggesting that the man was 'genial' enough is somewhat tarnished. 
22. This information can be found in footnotes on copy of the Kalabergo ballad accompanying the Handy article online.  Handy's life-history does refer to instances of Handy selling ballads … but there is no evidence to suggest that this was habitual. 
23. The 'fatal tree' image, the most iconic in murder balladry – if not always in exactly that form - appears in a ballad on the fate of Samuel Fallows ('gallows tree'); and further, for instance, as 'fatal tree' in Execution of the Mannings (1849); Copy of Verses Written on The Condemnation of Elias Lucas and Mary Reader … (1850); Lamentation of Henry Groom (1851); Execution of Sarah Chesham (also in 1851); and in the Smethurst case, 1859.  For these and the following cases see MT articles 156 and 157 - Francis Courvoisier was to hang 'On the fatal gallows high' (1840); Palmer the poisoner 'on the dismal tree' (1856).  Kohl lamented that 'No one can save me from the dreadful tree … ' (1865); Hubbard Lingley was to die 'On Norwich fatal sad gallows high' (1867) … The 'high' gallows is a reflection of actuality and purposely depicted so in some header illustrations.  The gallows at Horsemonger Lane, London, was deliberately sited on the roof of the prison so that the fate of each victim was the more clearly visible.
24. There are appeals to God's mercy in ballads on the murderers Mobbs (1870), Coates (1872) and Fish (1876) for example and, indirectly on behalf of Constance Kent (1870).  Again, the 'possibility of the Lord's mercy' is canvassed in a ballad on Frederick Baker (1867).  These cases were reviewed in the course of MT articles 156 and 157.
25. See, for instance, Madden Reel 77, Number 606 for Catnach copy; Madden Reel 78, Number 349 for Pitts; Madden Reel 78, Number 1000 for Fortey; Madden Reel 88, Number 56 for Bloomer; and Madden Reel 83, Number 307 for Fordyce … There are several other examples from printers countrywide.  See also those sung versions that, of course, wind their way and illustrate how much is changed – say, Merrick's sung version from Mr.  Hills (JFSS 1:3 (1901), pp.  114-115) or that of Harry Cox, collected by E.  J.  Moeran (JFSS 8:1 (1931), p.  278; and, more particularly, as a variant, the version sung by Mrs.  Webb – 'Adieu, Adieu … ' to H.  E.  D.  Hammond (JFSS 8:4 (1930), pp.  190-191... 
26. Jackson's … Saturday October 23rd 1858.  The Banbury Guardian also provided commentary on the case in much the same form as did Jackson's … but there appears not to have been nationwide attention and this is in contrast to those that appeared as being connected with the Kalabergo murder.
27. Ibid.
28. See Jackson's … 5th March 1859. 
29. This whole matter has been studied – there is a paper by Rebecca Probert of the University of Warwick Law School that seems to have begun life with a consideration of the Susan Owen murder: A Banbury story: Cohabitation and Marriage among the Victorian poor in notorious Neithrop (available online).  Professor Probert, quoting other previous authorities, noted that 'Pubs were not just places to drink, but also provided casual lodgings'.  In Neithrop, 'far from the sea, it was generally bargemen who required such temporary accommodation' and there was a supposed link between this phenomenon and prostitution.  Thus, the Susan Owen case provided an example.  She may have worked as a prostitute 'although the census did not label her as such'.  Perhaps, as Professor Probert suggests, the supposed link revealed more about attitudes to the poor … .At the time (c.  1851) it seems that over seventy per cent of couples in Neithrop were described as being married.  Very few, in the final analysis, were 'co-habiting'.  Susan Owen was at one point described as a housekeeper and this did not, it seems, necessarily imply sexual congress.  Her unfortunate position in connection with Willson cannot, though, be denied.
30. Jackson's … Saturday 5th March 1859.
31. Ibid.
32. Ibid. 
33. Ibid.
34. Ibid.
35. Ibid.
36. It can be found in the Bodleian Allegro archive as Johnson Ballads 2417.
37. As it happens, Jackson's … used the name 'Sarah' in its report of Mary Fairfax's testimony (Saturday, 5th March 1858).
38. We should note the fate of Constance Kent in Wiltshire who, accused of the murder of her half-brother Francis Saville, nevertheless lived abroad and then back in England in institutions, was re-tried on the production of a confession and then acquitted.  She was, though, sentenced to life imprisonment and she served twenty years in jail, was released, and then disappeared from the records, amidst rumours and speculation.  It may be that the true story of Francis Saville Kent's murder was lost.  We may further consider the case of William Graham in Cumberland, who had an extraordinary afterlife via transportation; or that of Thomas Sturley who lived for a long time after he attempted to shoot Samuel Page in Norfolk – Page survived (a ballad actually claims that the judge donned his black cap and pronounced sentence of death but this anticipation was not justified); or of Edmund Pook, found not guilty of murder through lack of credible evidence.  None of the associated ballads got this far in their treatment of events.  See MT articles 157 (Kent), 194 (Graham) and 156 (Pook).
39. Jackson's Oxford Journal, 5th August 1871.
40. Ibid.
41. Ibid.
42. Jackson's … , 2nd September 1871
43. Ibid.
44. Jackson's … , 2nd September 1872 – a second report from that day.
45. Jackson's … , 2nd September 1872 – the first report. Jackson's … 24th February 1872.  Many of the same details of the case were reprinted in trial proceedings – see Jackson's … , 2nd March 1872 and in the account of Roberts' hanging in Jackson's … , 23rd March 1872.
46. Jackson's … 23rd Mar 23 1872.
47. Ibid.
48. See Bodleian Allegro archive as Firth c.  17(226).
49. Disley printed at least forty-four such ballads – all available to see in the Bodleian Allegro archive.
50. For similar opening lines, see, for example, Murder of Mr O'Connor (the Mannings case, 1849):
    Good people all attend to me
    While I relate a tale …

    and The Lamentation Of Alexander Thomson … (1864):

    You feeling hearted people I pray you will draw near
    And my sad lamentation you quickly shall hear …

    and Shocking Murder of a Policeman at Snodland, near Rochester (1873):

    Good people all pray give attention,
     While a dreadful tale I do unfold …

    and Shocking Murder of a Wife At Oving, near Aylesbury (also dating from 1873):

    Good people all bray(sic) draw near,
    And listen to this dreadful tale …

    and, yet again, pieces 'set' in Ireland, such as The Lamentation of John Holden (1860): 'You tender hearted Christians, I hope you will draw near' and A Lamentation on the Execution of Dennis Dillane (1863): 'You feeling hearted Christians, I mean both young& (sic) old … '.  For closing lines, see again, for instance, Murder of Mr O'Connor (the Mannings case of 1849); then Gleeson Wilson's Lamentation (another case in 1849); and a ballad on the murder of Clara Bruton (1872) …

    Of such a cold blooded murder
    we have seldom heard before …

    It is a similar story in the Wainwright case of 1875 … All these references can be found in previous MT articles in this series – for instance, 156 and 157.

51. Conventional expressions, mostly quite inadequate to the event and reflecting a limited range in balladry – such as 'shocking to relate' - appear regularly.  The murder of the boy Newbery by Mobbs in 1870 is described as 'A sad, cruel, dreadful deed'.  The murder of Alice Boughen by Richard Coates in 1872 elicits the line, 'Thy fearful end all must deplore' – and, in another ballad on the same case, is presented as a 'sad and dreadful crime' … together with the opinion that 'It is dreadful to think that there could be a man' like Coates.  In Horrible Crime at Blackburn (Emily Holland, murdered by William Fish, 1876), we find 'a murder so wicked and so cruel'.  The Harriet Wainwright case of 1875 has several such comments: 'how sad to tell' and 'Oh, what a sad and dreadful crime' and 'The fate of this poor girl was awful'.  Then, 'a sad and fearful death' describes the deliberate starvation of the boy John Moss in 1876.  Sarah Hughes, murdered by Cadwallader Jones in 1877, was a 'sad victim of crime'.  In all this, jealousy would seem to have been one of the four principal motives for murder as presented in balladry, the others being drunken-ness, a desire for money and the appearance or influence of Satan.  Almost incidentally – but not surprisingly - there is something of a parallel between the Susan Owen case and that of Francis Warne and Amelia Blunt where we find
    Oh! Fatal, cursed jealousy,
    'Tis then that was the cause,
    Of this most dreadful tragedy …

    See, further, MT articles 156 and 157.

52. Witney Express, 14th September 1871.

Article MT287

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