London's Shadows: The Dark Side of the Victorian City (7 page)

While the attack was extremely brutal, and the killer targeted Tabram's `breasts, stomach, abdomen and vagina' and despite some suggestions that the murderer had some medical knowledge, nothing exists in police files to suggest that this was something contemporary police officers believed.37 Was Martha Tabram the Ripper's first victim? Leonard Mathers, author of one of the earliest works on the Ripper murders thought so, as did many contemporaries, but most modern writers are less sure. She may have been killed by more than one man; perhaps the two soldiers were guilty, although this seems unlikely. We now know that serial killers develop their MO (modus operandi or method of killing) as they kill and so we might expect the Ripper to make one of more attempts at `ripping' before he perfected his technique.38 We cannot be sure but as Paul Begg says, `the frenzy of the attack took it well beyond the league of "normal" murder"' The coroner said it was `one of the most dreadful murders any one could imagine. The man must have been a perfect savage to inflict such a number of wounds on a defenceless woman in such a way'.40

Tabram was about 37 years old (the police file suggests 35-40) and her body was identified by Henry Tabram, her estranged husband who she had left some 13 years earlier. Tabram had been using the name Emma Turner (that is how her former landlady identified her) and was living with Henry Turner up until about three weeks before she met her death. Tabram and Turner had clearly been in financial difficulty and had left their lodgings in Commercial Road six weeks previously owing rent.41 Perhaps this had precipitated Martha's move onto the streets and the eventual breakup of the relationship.

Martha Tabram was killed on 7 August 1888 and no one was ever prosecuted for her death. At 3.40 a.m. on Friday, 31 August, Charles Cross was on his way to his work as a carman. As he strolled along Buck's Row (now renamed as Durward Street) he noticed what he thought to be a piece of tarpaulin at the narrow end of the street. When he crossed over he realized it was a body. Cross was soon joined by another worker, Robert Paul, and together they examined the body. Believing that the woman might still be alive they went to find help. As they left the scene PC Neil entered Buck's Row (which was part of his beat) and discovered the woman's body. Using his police lantern, Neil was able to see that her throat had been cut. He called for help and was assisted by another officer who went to fetch a surgeon. When the police surgeon, Dr Llewellyn, arrived he confirmed death and the body was taken to a mortuary in Old Montague Street. There the body was stripped and washed before anyone could make a proper examination despite instructions issued by a police sergeant that no one was to touch the body. The murder scene itself was neither secured nor properly investigated.42 Dr Llewellyn examined the body again at about 10 a.m. and made his report:

On the right side of the face was a recent and strongly-marked bruise ... which might have been caused by a blow from a fist or by pressure of the thumb. There were two cuts in the throat, one four inches long and the other eight, and both reaching to the vertebrae, which had also been penetrated. The wounds must have been inflicted with a strong-bladed knife, moderately sharp, and used with great violence. It appeared to have been held in the left hand of the person who had used it. No blood at all was found on the front of the woman's clothes. On the abdomen were some severe cuts and stabs ... the murderer must have had some rough anatomical knowledge, for he seemed to have attacked all the vital parts.43

Much has been made of the phrase `some rough anatomical knowledge' by contemporaries and later writers, but it is far from conclusive. Dr Llewellyn also stated that it could have taken only four or five minutes to carry out the attack and this was a more significant `fact' than any suggestion of medical knowledge. The casual treatment of the crime scene was echoed by the easy access afforded to the London press. A journalist from the East London Observer visited the mortuary and was shown the body in its coffin. His report set the tone for the reporting of the Ripper murders that was to unfold in the coming weeks and months:

Opening the lid, he exposed the face of the poor victim. The features were apparently those of a woman about thirty or thirty-five years, whose hair was still dark. The features were small and delicate, the cheek-bones high, the eyes grey, and the partly opened mouth disclosed a set of teeth which were a little discoloured. The expression on the face was a deeply painful one, and was evidently the result of an agonising death. The gash across the neck was situated very slightly above the breastbone; it was at least six inches in length, and over an inch in width, and was clean cut. The hands were still tightly clenched. The lower portion of the body, however, presented the most sickening spectacle of all. Commencing from the lower portion of the abdomen, a terrible gash extended nearly as far as the diaphragm - a gash from which the bowels

The sensational reporting, with its reference to the mutilations was in sharp contrast to the mechanical description of death given by Dr Llewellyn.

The victim was eventually identified as Mary Ann Nichols (also known as `Polly Ann'). Polly was a 42-year-old prostitute who had been in and out of the Lambeth workhouse (where Mary Ann Monk, who identified Polly's corpse, had first met her) having lost her position as servant after being caught stealing. She had been married to William Nichols but the couple had separated nine years earlier `in consequence of her drunken habits' (as the police report For a while Nichols had supported her with an allowance of 5s a week but this stopped in 1882 when he discovered she was prostituting herself. From May till July 1888 she had found work as a domestic servant but had lost it again when she absconded, stealing some clothes. In August 1888, Mary Ann roomed in a lodging house at 55 Flower and Dean Street, prior to that she had digs in a common lodging house at 18 Thrawl Street. On the night of the murder, a little the worse for drink, and very proud of her new black straw bonnet, she was on her way to earn enough money to pay her rent for the night. At 12.30 a.m. she was seen leaving the Frying Pan Pub in Brick Lane; she was back at her lodgings at 1.40 a.m. still short of the necessary cash but told the deputy warden there to keep her room free for her as she `would soon get the money'.46 At half past two a fellow resident at the lodging house found her `dead drunk' standing on the corner of Osborn Street and Whitechapel Road and tried to persuade her to go home. Instead Polly made off in the direction of Buck's Row, about half a mile away. No one saw her alive after that.

The hand-to-mouth existence of some East End residents is clearly shown by Polly's tragic death. Her pitiful possessions also indicate her poverty. Aside from her new bonnet she had what she was standing up in, and these clothes had seen better days and included a dress and underwear that she had been given at the workhouse.47

At first locals suspected that the murder was the work of one of the gangs that preyed on prostitutes. The Nichol's gang, named for the street they infested, were notorious for extracting `protection' money from the area's `unfortunates'. But Inspector Abberline, the detective in charge of operations from Leman Street, was sure it was the work of one man. The newspapers began to link Polly's death with that of Martha Tabram. They also speculated wildly on the nature and personality of the killer. It was clear, the Northern Echo stated, that the murders were the work of one individual, in all probability a 'ferocious maniac. He was

a homicidal lunatic possessed apparently of the supernatural cunning and force by which such unfortunate beings are sometimes characterised - a human tiger with no more moral responsibility than that huge and ferocious cat, his thirst for blood whetted with three successful crimes, is at large, according to this idea, in the midst of such a teeming horde of humanity as Whitechapel!'41

This coalescing of the murderer with the inhuman or non-human helped to create a mythology around the figure of `Jack' and linked his crimes to those of Spring Heeled Jack, the London Monster and Sweeney Todd - all semi-mythical bogeymen in London's history that will be discussed in Chapter 4. It is not unusual for serial murderers to be credited with superhuman or alien powers; indeed this helps to set them apart from humanity and allows us to see them as different from us rather than as a part of our community. We like to do this with criminals and in particular with killers despite the fact that few animals kill for pleasure and none do so for political purposes in the way that humans do. In a sense serial killers are entirely and uniquely human, killing as they do to gratify their desires and lusts rather than for food or to defend territory from other animals. As a consequence of this early speculation about the mental health of the murderer, a local lunatic, Henry James, had fallen under suspicion following Mary Ann's death but was soon absolved of responsibility by the coroner.

The inquest was held at the Working Lads' Institute as Whitechapel did not have its own coroner's court, nor had it a town hall or vestry hall or even a purpose built mortuary, all which again indicate the relative poverty of the neighbourhood since most West End parishes had courts and even in St Georges' in the East and Poplar there were parochial buildings that could be and were used when necessary. Certainly the area needed a mortuary since a previous one had been demolished to make way for a new street but the compensation paid to the local authorities by the MBW (Metropolitan Board of Works) had not been spent on providing a new one.49 At the inquest the foreman told the coroner that in his opinion, `the government ought to offer a reward - and a big one. If it had been a rich person that was murdered there would have been a reward of £1,000 offered but just because it is a poor "unfortunate" there is hardly any notice taken' The coroner disagreed, both with the idea of the reward and with the sentiments expressed: `For some time past the offering of rewards has been discontinued, no distinction being made between rich and poor, he argued. The foreman would not be put off and announced that a reward was being put together, and he himself was donating £25.s0 The idea of a reward and the belief that no one outside of Whitechapel cared if poor women were being murdered persisted throughout the investigation.

The second, or possibly third, victim - depending on how one views the murder of Martha Tabram - was Annie Chapman. `Dark' Annie, as she was also known, had been married to a coachman and had three children, but following the death of her eldest child Emily from meningitis, her marriage collapsed. It is very possible that this was simply the last straw for her husband; Annie's character and her alcoholism had undoubtedly undermined the relationship some time before. Her husband continued to support her after their separation in 1884 but his death in December 1886 forced Annie to resort to prostitution alongside some part-time work selling matches or flowers on the streets and some piece-work in crocheting. Annie was dying from a terminal disease of the lungs and brain and in early September had admitted herself to the casual ward of the workhouse. On 7 September she had again complained of feeling ill to her friend, Amelia Farmer, but said, `It's no use my giving way. I must pull myself together and go out and get some money or I shall have no lodgings''' It was a fatal decision.

At 5.30 the next morning (8 September), Elizabeth Long was on her way to Spitalfields Market and noticed a man and woman on the street close to number 29 Hanbury Street. The woman she identified as Annie Chapman but she did not know the man. However, she offered a loose description of an individual who looked `foreign' and was `dark':

He had a brown deerstalker hat and I think he had a dark coat on. But I'm not quite sure about that. I couldn't say what age he was but he looked over forty and he looked a little taller than the woman. He looked like a foreigner. He had a shabby genteel appearance. I could hear them talking loudly. He said to her, `Will you?' She said `Yes'. They were still standing there as I passed. I didn't look back.52

Mrs Long may well have seen Annie's killer because the next person to see Annie was John Davis. At 6 a.m. he came down from his third floor room to the hallway that ran the length of the house in Hanbury Street. Going out into the yard he found the dead body of a woman in a recess between the steps of the house and an old rotten fence. He ran back to Hanbury Street and called out to two passers by: `Men! Come here! Here's a sight. A woman must have been murdered!'53 The police were alerted and Annie's body taken to the mortuary. Outside the house a large crowd began to gather, curious voyeurs to an unfolding horror. The papers reported that:

Not even during the riots and fog of February 1886, have I seen London so thoroughly excited as it is to-night.[sic] The Whitechapel fiend murdered his fourth victim this morning and still continues undetected, unseen, and unknown. There is a panic in Whitechapel which will instantly extend to other districts should he change his locality, as the four murders are in everybody's mouth. The papers are full of them and nothing else is talked of.54

The press were clearly linking Annie's murder with those of Tabram and Smith as well as Polly Nichols. When the inquest into Annie Chapman's death opened on 10 September the press went to town on the inadequacies of the police. Across the Atlantic the detective department was described as `utterly hopeless' and the press stated that `the police have no clue. The London police and detective force is probably the stupidest in the world'" Most of the derision was aimed at Sir Charles Warren, the Chief Commissioner who was accused of militarizing the police rather than training detectives. Some of this criticism was well deserved and we will return to it in Chapter 8. A letter in The Times criticized the actions of the police and mortuary officials in the immediate wake of Annie's death. In the letter writer's view it was a contempt of the coroner's court to wash the body since `there would probably have appeared on the body some finger mark, which would have been very useful' The correspondent, who probably had too much faith in the usefulness or otherwise of fingerprint evidence in 1888, also stated that the killer was probably `a person making research from motives of science or curiosity, an opinion that has persisted in attempts to track down the identity of the murderer.56