I
can almost feel the panic, over a century later, felt by those who
responded to the murder on that Saturday morning, 6 September, 1888 .
The sad back yard of the run down tenement on Hanbury Street was
separated by less than a half mile and just a week from the dark
lonely murder scene on Buck's Row. And it seemed obvious the same
maniac had been responsible for both horrors. After the murder of
Martha Tabrem, the newspapers had called for more lighting around
private residences. And after Polly Nichols' murder the Coroner's
jury, and the newspapers had called for more gas lights in the dark
public corners of Whitechapel. But this poor woman, who ever she was,
had been murdered and butchered in the full light of morning. Logic seemed to offer no solution for this horror.
Like
a blood stain soaking into the victim's worn clothing, the horror
born in one man's tortured soul, was now being sucked up by every
civilian gawker, uniformed constable and plain clothes detective in
the Whitechapel division. It began to touch Inspector Joseph Luniss
Chandler before six that morning as he watched two men running up
Hanbury Street from the window of the Commercial Street Station (above) , and he felt the first faint sick feeling of what
might be coming. He was the officer who responded at 6:02 am, to the
men's report. Accompanied by several constables, Chandler arrived at
29 Hanbury to discover a crowd already jamming the narrow hallway. He
ordered the hall cleared, sent an officer back to Commercial Street
to fetch the ambulance cart and reinforcements, another to cover the
body with cloth bags, and dispatched yet another constable to fetch
Dr George Bagster Phillips, the Divisional Police Surgeon.
Over his 20 year career as a doctor, the modest Dr. Phillips had developed a "a brusque, quick manner", and a self assurance in his own judgement. He stepped into the yard at about 6:20 that morning. Removing
the covering bags, he noted the woman's “...left arm was placed across the
left breast. The legs were drawn up, the feet resting on the ground,
and the knees turned outwards.” The victim's face was swollen and
bruised, and turned toward the fence. The tip of her swollen tongue
was between her teeth, which seemed intact. But below the waist, “The
body was terribly mutilated...”
He noted, "the body was cold except that there was a certain heat, under the intestines", but he took no temperatures. He added, "Stiffness of the limbs was not marked,
but it was commencing…the blood had mainly flowed from the neck,
which was well clotted. Dr. Phillips estimated the time of death to
have occurred at least 2 or 3 hours earlier, or between 3:30 and 4:30 am. The doctor
observed a handkerchief tied around the dead woman's throat. But below
the cloth were two deep slashes, “...jagged and...right round the
neck” On the fence next to the body he noticed what might be
smears of blood. He thought the weapon which had created those cuts
and the others below, might have been “a very sharp knife with a
thin narrow blade...at least 6 to 8 inches in length”, perhaps a
bayonet, a doctor's knife, or the kind of knife used in a slaughter
house or by a butcher. But Doctor Phillips saw no evidence of a
struggle in the yard, and he was certain the dead woman had come into
the back yard under her own power.
At
her feet, and between her legs, Dr. Phillips (above) saw a piece of muslin
cloth, on which were an envelope corner, which had evidently been
folded and used to carry 2 pills lying next to the paper. Next to
them was a comb, still wrapped in paper. It occurred to Phillips the
items had been placed there rather carefully, “that is to say,
arranged there.” He also noticed a leather apron laying on the
ground near a water faucet projecting from the rooming house wall. Inspector Chandler noted the items and collected them.
As
soon as the ambulance cart (above) arrived, Dr. Phillips ordered the body be
removed. The Bobbys lifted the mutilated corpse into a wicker
coffin, which they used to carry the dead woman through the hall, out
onto Hanbury Street. The doctor walked with the Bobbys pushing the
ambulance cart to Brick Lane, then across to Montague Street, before
turning east, followed by a crowd growing in numbers and agitation.
They arrived at the Eagle street entrance to the Montague Street
Mortuary a few moments before 7:00 am.
The
gates locked the crowd outside (above), while the party waited for Robert
Mann to unlock the shed. Once the body had been transferred to the
examination table, Dr. Phillips issued specific instructions to the
chastised attendant Mann that this body was not to be touched until
he – the doctor - had returned to preform the autopsy. A few
moments later, Inspector Chandler arrived, and issued identical
instructions to Mann. Leaving Constable Barnes to keep an eye on the
crowd at the Eagle Street gate, Dr. Phillips headed to the London
Hospital to see patients, while Inspector Chandler returned to the
Commercial Street station to begin preparing his investigation.
None
of the warnings did any good, of course. Within two hours a lowly
clerk at the Whitechapel Workhouse had dispatched two guardians
(nurses' assistants) to the mortuary to wash all evidence off the
body. Neither the staff nor population of the Work House understood
that the offense in handling the corpse of Polly Nichols had not been that men had washed a woman's body, but
that the body had been washed at all. But nowhere does it seem that
any one bothered to explain that to them.
The
London Daily News did its best to make up for not having a Sunday
edition to report the murder and sell papers. Their report, on Monday, 10 September
began, “On
Saturday one more crime was added to the ghastly series of
Whitechapel murders. Just before six that morning a woman was found
murdered and mutilated at a lodging house in Hanbury street...The
head...had been nearly severed
from her body by one stroke of a sharp knife, and her mangled remains
had been disposed about her in a way that suggested a delight in the
slaughter for the slaughter's sake....inflicted nameless indignities
on the dead body, indignity upon indignity, horror upon horror, and
got clean away. The house teemed with life; it was near the hour of
rising...yet no human being heard a cry or an alarm. The swiftness of
it, the perfect mystery of it, are heightening effects of terror. The
wildest imagination has never combined in fiction so many daring
improbabilities as have here been accomplished in fact.”
That
same day The Daily Telegraph reported, “Mrs. Fiddymont, wife of the
proprietor of the Prince Albert public-house...half a mile from the
scene of the murder, states that at seven o'clock yesterday
morning...there came into...a man whose rough appearance frightened
her. He had on a brown stiff hat, a dark coat, and no waistcoat...he
asked for "half a pint of four ale."....there were blood-spots
on the back of his right hand...his shirt was torn. As soon as he had
drunk the ale, which he swallowed at a gulp, he went out... she
slipped out the other door, and watched him as he went towards
Bishopsgate-street...” The wild eyed mystery man was last seen
heading for Halfmoon street.
The
Telegraph then added, “A number of sensational stories are
altogether without corroboration, such, for instance, as the tale
that writing was seen on the wall of No. 29: "I have now done
three, and intend to do nine more and give myself up." One
version says some such threat as "Five - Fifteen more and I give
myself up," was written upon a piece of paper that was picked
up. There has also been a good deal said about "Leather
Apron”,.....So
much has been said of "Leather Apron" that, when it became
known that a leather apron had been discovered in the yard, the
people immediately associated it with the supposed culprit. There
were three aprons, in fact, and they belonged to workmen, who have no
connection with the case.”
The
East End News described the murders as, “...so distinctly outside
the ordinary range of human experience that it has created a kind of
stupor extending far beyond the district where the murders were
committed...” The paper then added, “So many stories of
"suspicious" incidents have cropped up since the murder,
some of them evidently spontaneously generated by frantic terror,
and... pointing in contrary directions, that....If the
perpetrator...is not speedily brought to justice, it will be not only
humiliating, but also an intolerable perpetuation of the danger.” The people of Whitechapel were beginning to see Leather Aprons on every street corner,
The
London Evening News reported a conversation between “workmen”
that seemed to hint at revolution brewing behind the slaughter. “But
I want to know what the police is about?" This was met with the
sneering observation of a companion, "Well, you must be a fool
to ask a question of that sort. Why, the 'perlice' is too busy
looking arter the changing of bus hosses in the West-end, and
a-watchin' o' Trafalgar Square, to care what becomes of poor devils
like us." The murmurs of approval which greeted this homely
satire showed that the feeling towards the guardians of the peace is
one of distrust...”.
The
crimes were so horrible, the Daily Telegraph was eager for
speculation, “It is a positive relief”, they wrote, “to escape
from the fact to the theory of the crime.... No person could murder
at these risks, and for these gains, with any sense of purpose in his
acts as purpose is known to the sane. A monster is abroad. The
murders defy all rules of motive...There was no more waste of effort
than there is in the killing of a sheep. There could have been no
more pity, or anger, or violent passion of any sort. The police have
to find for us one of the most extraordinary monsters known to the
history of mental and spiritual disease, a monster whose skull will
have to be cast for all the surgical museums of the world. No other
theory is admissible.”
Against
such a loud and universal cry for relief, it seemed neither science
nor religion, nor the Metropolitan Police, could explain the murderer, nor stop him.
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