Facsimile of one of the letters written to Police allegedly by the Ripper, this one addressed "From Hell"
Browsing through Arts and Letters Daily the other day when I ended up at the archive for The Times (UK) showing for the year 1888, the “London Murder Map”, a very crowded map indeed, for it was the height of Jack the Ripper’s reign of terror in the East End of London.
1888 was the year in which he committed the five “canonical” murders of Mary Ann Nichols (Friday, 31 August), Annie Chapman (Saturday, 8 September), Elizabeth Stride (Sunday, 30 September), Catherine Eddowes (again, Sunday, 30 September) and Mary Jane Kelly (Friday, 9 November). All prostitutes in their mid to late 40s (except for Kelly who was 25), the victims were slit across the throat, and all but one, mutilated in various ways. In addition to these five murders, which most historians agree can be attributed to a single killer, there are another six murders in the years 1888 to 1891 that ”at some stage have been looked upon as ‘Ripper’ murders” (The London Metropolitan Police).
Facsimiles of the actual newspaper reports of these murders are all on the Times site, and they are utterly engrossing. I dare you to be able to stop reading. And it’s not just the subject matter. The type and level of detail this most famous journal of record thought fit to print, and the tone in which it does so, is entrancing.
Take the case of the hapless Police Constable Thompson in the report of one of the later murders, that of Frances Coles (nicknamed Carrotty Nell). In the report dated 14 February 1891 and entitled “Shocking Murder in Whitechapel” the newspaper describes that “Thompson, who, by the way, was having his first experience of night duty”, discovered the severely wounded Coles at “20 minutes past 2 yesterday morning” in a dark archway:
On entering the arch he did not hear anything unusual, but on reaching the centre he could distinguish the form of a woman lying in the middle of the roadway, which is only wide enough to permit of the passing of one vehicle at a time. He could make out that she was lying on her back with the legs crossed at the feet; and the officer at first was under the impression she had fallen down while in a state of intoxication and gone off into a drunken sleep. On turning on his ‘bull’s-eye’ he saw a terrible spectacle. The throat of the unfortunate woman was severed to the spinal column, and blood was flowing freely from the gaping wound. The poor woman opened her eyes, proving that at the time life was not extinct and that the crime had only been committed, at the most, a few seconds before. It was at this moment Constable Thompson distinctly heard the sounds of retreating footsteps. Evidently, the murderer had a very narrow escape.
It was also at this moment that Constable Thompson’s career likely ended for the report goes on to state:
Had the officer at once and speedily taken up the pursuit he would, in all probability, have effected the capture of the man who had committed his crime; or, at least, he might have had a good view of him, and so have been able to furnish particulars which might have led to his ultimate capture. The constable, it should be mentioned, is a young man of little experience in police work, having been in the force only six weeks, and previous to that was engaged in one of the mines in the north. A more experienced officer would, probably, have taken up the chase, with the result that the author of the deed would doubtless have been caught, and so have put an end to these series of crimes in Whitechapel.
Of the victim, the report states that close by her head was her hat “which was formed of very old crape” and in her pocket was found ”an old comb and a few pieces of cloth or rags”, that she was of “Age, about 25; length, 5ft; eyes and hair, brown; complexion, pale” with “Dress – A black diagonal jacket; dress black, satin bodice; white underlinen, buttoned boots, black ribbon round neck, black vulcanite earrings, and black earring in pocket; black crape hat”. Overall, the report states:
… the whole of the clothing she was wearing at the time she was found was of the commonest and shabbiest description, while the heels had been almost entirely worn off her boots.
Such garrulity, such eccentric detail, such novelistic precision! This is not reporting as we know it today, which is too bad really.
I am not generally very fond of reading news about murders and calamities. But I have to agree, that reporting was exquisite! Nowadays, its so clinical that it makes me feel that such happenings are very commonplace and I can never be safe. Whereas that reporting made it seem like a work of fiction, so I was captivated but not fearful..if that makes sense..
Geez, to think I lived in London for years and never visited the London Dungeons. I would have loved it I reckon. I scared myself badly one day by visiting the underground Middlesex Prison just up the road from where I worked in Old Street, close to Clerkenwell, a part of the City where you can virtually smell the squalor and violence just under the surface of the present. The Rutherford book sounds interesting, and somewhat similar to Peter Ackroyd’s idea in billing his book, also titled “London”, as “biography”.