Annie Chapman - Wife, Mother, Victim: The Life & Death of a Victim of Jack The Ripper

by Covell, Mike

  The Morning Advertiser, a newspaper published in London, featured the following, dated September 10th 1888,

  ANOTHER MURDER IN WHITECHAPEL. On Saturday morning, about six o'clock, the neighbourhood of Whitechapel was horrified to a degree bordering on panic by the discovery of another barbarous murder of a woman at 29 Hanbury street (late Brown lane), Spitalfields. Hanbury street is a thoroughfare running between Commercial street and Whitechapel road, the occupants of which are poor and for the most part of Jewish extraction. The circumstances of the murder are of such a revolting character as to pint to the conclusion that it has been perpetrated by the same hand as committed that in Buck's row and the two previous murders, all of which have occurred within a stone's throw of each other. The murdered woman, who appears to have been respectably connected, was known in the neighbourhood by women of the unfortunate class as Annie Sivvy, but her real name was Annie Chapman. She is described by those who knew her best as a decent although poor looking woman, about 5ft 2in or 5ft 3in high, with fair brown wavy hair, blue eyes, large flat nose; and, strange to say, she had two of her front teeth missing, as had Mary Ann Nicholls, who was murdered in Buck's row. When her body was found on Saturday morning it was miserably clad. She wore no head covering, but simply a skirt and a bodice and two light petticoats. A search being made in her pockets nothing was found but an envelope stamped “The Sussex Regiment.” The house in Hanbury street, in the yard of which the crime was committed, is occupied by a woman named Richardson, who employs several men in the rough packing line. There is a small shop in front at the basement of the house, which is utilised for the purposes of a cat's meat shop. At one end of the house there is a passage with a door at either end leading to a small yard some 13ft or 14 ft square, separated from adjoining houses by a slight wooden fence. There is no outlet at the back, and any person who gains access must of necessity make his exit from the same end as his entry. In the yard there were recently some packing cases, which had been sent up from the basement of the dwelling, but just behind the lower door there was a clear space left, wherein the murder was undoubtedly committed. The theory primarily formed was that the unfortunate victim had been first murdered and afterwards dragged through the entry into the back yard; but from an inspection made later in the day it appears that the murder was actually committed in the corner of the yard, which the back door, when open, places in obscurity. There were some marks of blood observable in the passage, but it is now known that these were caused in the work of removal of some packing cases, the edges of which accidentally came in contact with the blood which remained upon the spot from which the unhappy victim was removed. The evidence which has been collected up to the present shows that the murder was committed shortly before half past five o'clock in the morning. Albert Cadosch, who lodges next door, had occasion to go into the adjoining yard at the back at 5.25, and states that he heard a conversation on the other side of the palings as if between two people. He caught the word “No,” and fancied he subsequently heard a slight scuffle, with the noise of a falling against the palings, but, thinking that his neighbours might probably be out in the yard, he took no further notice, and went to his work. Nothing further can be traced of the dreadful tragedy until shortly before six o'clock. At that hour John Davis, a porter in Spitalfields market, who lives in the house, 29 Hanbury street, was passing through the yard on the way to his work, when he saw the mutilated body of the murdered woman. He at once aroused the other inmates of the house and then ran to the Commercial road station and reported the matter to the police. When the police arrived they found that the woman had been murdered in a manner similar to that in which Mary Ann Nicholls had been killed. Her throat had been cut and indescribable wounds had been inflicted on her abdomen. She had been partly disembowelled, and her liver and heart had been torn out and placed beside her. The murderer must obviously have spent a considerable time over his deed of butchery, but though six families reside in 29 Hanbury street, none of the inmates of the house appear to have heard any noise which excited their suspicion. It is explained, however, that the passage to the back of the house is always left open for the convenience of the lodgers and persons who work on the premises. No knife or other weapon such as would inflict the wounds borne by the deceased was found on the premises. A leather apron was discovered, and at first some importance was attached to the matter. It was ascertained, however, that it belonged to a man who works on the premises, and who had left it there on Friday afternoon. The deceased is said to have been in the habit of wearing two or three brass rings, and these were missing when the body was found. It has been ascertained that a pawnbroker in Mile end road had detained rings which had been presented to him for pledge, but which, on being tested, had not been found genuine. Should these rings be identified as the property of the deceased the importance of the clue will be obvious. On Saturday evening a man was arrested at Limehouse on suspicion, but he was released after inquiries. There is on every hand the one opinion prevailing that the Whitechapel murders have all been enacted by the same person. The mortuary in which the body of the murdered woman lies is situated at the corner of Eagle street, a cul de sac ending in a pair of green doors, within which several officers of the police guard the remains of the dead. The body is already in a shell, and the autopsy having been made by Dr. Phillips and his assistants, the portions of flesh and entrails removed by the murderer have been so far as possible replaced in their natural positions, and there is little else observable beyond the usual post mortem indications. The body is that of a fairly nourished woman, but bears traces of rough usage. The corpse is covered by a wrap, and those in custody of it are charged by the police authorities that it shall neither be shown to any person nor disturbed in any way. The district coroner visited the mortuary in the afternoon, and made arrangements for holding an inquest this morning at 10.30 at the Boys' Refuge, near Whitechapel Station. Mrs. Richardson, the landlady of 29 Hanbury street, the house where the body of the deceased was found, in the course of an interview said, “I have lived at this house 15 years, and my lodgers are poor but hard working people. Some have lodged with me as long as 12 years. They mostly work at the fish market or the Spitalfields market. Some of the carmen in the fish market go out to work as early as one a.m., while others go out at four and five, so that the place is open all night, and anyone can get in. It is certain that the deceased came voluntarily into the yard, as if there had been any struggle it must have been heard. Several lodgers sleep at the back of the house, and some had their windows open, but no noise was heard from the yard. One of my lodgers, a carman named Thompson, employed at Goodson's, in Brick lane, went out at four o'clock in the morning. He did not go into the yard, but he did not notice anything particular in the passage as he went out. My son John came in at ten minutes to five, and he gave a look round before he went to market. He went through to the yard, but no one was there then, and everything was right. Just before six o'clock, when Mr. Davis, another of my lodgers, came down, he found the deceased lying in the corner of the yard, close to the house, and by the side of the step. The lower part of her body was uncovered. There was not the slightest of a struggle, and the pool of blood which flowed from the throat after it was cut, was close to the step where she lay. She does not appear to have moved an inch after the fiend struck her with the knife. She must have died instantly. The murderer must have gone away from the spot covered with blood. There was an earthenware pan containing water in the yard; but this was not discoloured, and could not, therefore, have been used by the murderer. The only possible clue that I can think of is that Mr. Thompson's wife met a man about a month ago lying on the stairs. This was about four o'clock in the morning. He looked like a Jew, and spoke with a foreign accent. When asked what he was doing there, he replied that he was waiting to do a `doss' before the market opened. He slept on the stairs that night, and I believe he has slept on the stairs on other nights. Mrs. Thompson is certain she could recognise the man again both by his personal appea
rance and his peculiar voice. The police have taken a full and careful description of this man.” The deputy of a lodging house at 30 Dorset street, stated that Annie Chapman used to lodge there about two years ago with a man called Jack Sivvy, s sieve maker; hence her nickname Annie Sivvy. She appeared to be a quiet woman, and not given to drinking; in fact, he was quite surprised to hear that she had been seen drinking the night before her murder. The woman had two children to his knowledge - a boy who was a cripple, and who he believed was at some charitable school, and a daughter who was somewhere in France. Timothy Donovan, the deputy at the lodging house, 35 Dorset street, where the deceased frequently stayed, stated that the deceased stayed there on Sunday night last. She had been in the habit of coming there for the past four months. She was quiet woman, and gave no trouble. He had heard her say she wished she was as well off as her relations, but she never told him who her friends were or where they lived. A pensioner or an old soldier usually came to the lodging house with her in Saturday nights, and generally he stayed until the Monday morning. He would be able to identify the man instantly if he saw him. After the man left on Monday deceased would usually keep in the room for some days longer, the charge being eightpence per night. This man stayed at the house from Saturday to Monday last, and when he went the deceased went with him. She was not seen at the house again until Friday night about half past eleven o'clock, when she passed the doorway and Donovan, calling out, asked her where she had been since Monday, and why she had not slept there, and she replied, “I have been in the infirmary.” Then she went on her way in the direction of Bishopsgate street. About 1.40 a.m. on Saturday morning she came again to the lodging house, and asked for a bed. The message was brought upstairs to him, and he sent downstairs to ask for the money. The woman replied, “I haven't enough now, but keep my bed for me. I shan't be long.” Then as she was going away she said to John Evans, the watchman, “Brummy, I won't be long. See that Jim (sic) keeps my bed for me.” He saw nothing of her again until he was called to the mortuary yesterday morning, when he identified the deceased by her features and her wavy hair, which was turning grey. After the deceased left on Monday last he found two large bottles in the room, one containing medicine, and labelled as follows:- “St. Bartholomew's Hospital. Take two tablespoonfuls three times a day.” The other bottle contained a milky lotion, and was labelled “St. Bartholomew's Hospital. The lotion. Poison.” This confirmed her statement that she had been under medical treatment. A woman named Amelia Farmer says that she had been a fellow lodger with the deceased. She adds that the murdered woman had for a long time been separated from her husband, who was a veterinary surgeon in the provinces, and had been allowed 10s a week by him for her maintenance. The money had been sent by Post Office order, made payable at the Commercial street Post office, and had always come regularly. About eighteen months ago the instalments suddenly ceased, and, upon inquiry being made, it was found that the husband had died. Annie Chapman had two children, but where they were Farmer could not say. The deceased had a mother and sister, who were living in the neighbourhood of Brompton or Fulham. Farmer had been in the habit of writing letters for her friend, but could not remember the exact address of the mother or sister, but thought it was near the Brompton Hospital. Last Monday Chapman had intimated her intention of communicating with her sister, saying, “If I can get a pair of boots from my sister I shall go hop picking.” Another relation, a brother in law of the deceased, lived somewhere in or near Oxford street. Farmer asserted that her murdered friend was apparently a sober, steady going sort of woman, and one who seldom took any drink. For some time past she had been living occasionally with a man named Ted Stanley, who had been in the militia, but was now working at some neighbouring brewery. Ted Stanley was a good tempered man, rather tall, about 5ft 10in, fair, and of florid complexion. He was the last man in the world to have quarrelled with Chapman, nor would he have injured her in any way. At the beginning of the week the deceased had been rather severely knocked about in the breast and face by another woman of the locality through jealousy in connexion with Ted Stanley, and had been obliged to go to the casual ward. As a regular means of livelihood she had not been in the habit of frequenting the streets, but had made antimacassars for sale. Sometimes she would buy flowers or matches with which to pick up a living. Farmer was perfectly certain that on Friday night the murdered woman had worn three rings, which were not genuine, but were imitations, otherwise she would not have troubled to go out and find money for her lodgings. The police, on the statement of Farmer, made a vigilant search for the mother, sister, and brother in law, but without success. A man named Chapman, from Oxford street, was found, but proved to be no relation. Mrs. Fiddymont, wife of the proprietor of the Prince Albert, better known as the “Clean House,” at the corner of Brushfield and Stewart streets, half a mile from the scene of the murder, states that at seven o'clock on Saturday morning she was standing in the bar talking with another woman, a friend, in the first compartment. Suddenly there came into the middle compartment a man whose rough appearance frightened her. He had on a brown stiff hat, a dark coat, and no waistcoat. He came in with his hat down over his eyes, and, with his face partly concealed, asked for half a pint of four ale. She drew the ale, and meanwhile looked at him through the mirror at the back of the bar. As soon as he saw the woman in the other compartment watching him he turned his back, and got the partition between himself and her. The thing that struck Mrs. Fiddymont particularly was the fact that there were blood spots on the back of his right hand. This, taken in connexion with his appearance, caused her uneasiness. She also noticed that his shirt was torn. As soon as he had drunk the ale, which he swallowed at a gulp, he went out. Her friend went out also to watch him. Her friend is Mrs. Mary Chappell, who lives at 23 Stewart street, near by. Her story corroborates Mrs. Fiddymont's, and is more particular. When the man came in the expression of his eyes caught her attention, his look was so startling and terrifying. It frightened Mrs. Fiddymont so that she requested her to stay. He wore a light blue check shirt, which was torn badly, into rags in fact, on the right shoulder. There was a narrow streak of blood under his right ear, parallel with the edge of his shirt. There was also dried blood between the fingers of his hand. When he went out she slipped out of the other door and watched him as he went towards Bishopsgate street. She called Joseph Taylor's attention to him, and Joseph Taylor followed him. Joseph Taylor is a builder at 22 Stewart street. He states that as soon as his attention was attracted to the man he followed him. He walked rapidly, and came alongside him, but did not speak to him. The man was rather thin, about 5ft 8in high, and apparently between 40 and 50 years of age. He had a shabby genteel look, pepper and salt trousers, which fitted badly, and dark coat. When Taylor came alongside him the man glanced at him, and Taylor's description of the look was, “His eyes were as wild as a hawk's.” Taylor is a perfectly reliable man, well known throughout the neighbourhood. The man walked, he says, holding his coat together at the top. He had a nervous and frightened way about him. He wore a ginger coloured moustache and had short sandy hair. Taylor ceased to follow him, but watched him as far as “Dirty Dick's” in Half-moon street, where he became lost to view. Mrs. Elizabeth Bell, of Hanbury street, states - I have been living here some time, and I wish I had never come. Such a terrible sight is enough to shock any woman with the hardest heart. The house is open all night next door, and this poor creature was taken into the yard and butchered, no doubt, by the same man who committed the others. We were all roused at six o'clock this morning by Adam Osborne calling out, “For God's sake get up, here's a woman murdered.” We all got up and huddled on our clothes, and on going into the yard saw the poor creature lying by the steps in the next yard with her clothes torn and her body gashed in a dreadful manner. The people in the house next door were all asleep, I believe, and knew nothing of the matter until the police came and roused them up. I cannot be sure if anybody in the house knew of the murder, or took part in it, but I believe not. The passa
ge is open all night, and anyone can get in, and no doubt that is what happened. All the other tenants of the house gave the same opinion, and those in the house of Mr. Richardson at 29, where the murder occurred, state that they heard no cries of “Murder” or “Help,” nor anything unusual during the night. John Davis, who was the first to make the shocking discovery, states - Having had a cup of tea this morning at about six o'clock, I went downstairs. When I got to the end of the passage I saw a female lying down, her clothing up to her knees, and her face covered with blood. What was lying beside her I cannot describe - it was part of her body. I had heard no noise, nor had my missis. I saw Mr. Bailey's men waiting at the back of the Black Swan ready to go into their work - making packing cases. I said to them, “Here's a sight; a woman must have been murdered.” I then ran to the police station in Commercial road, and I told them there what I had seen, and some constables came back with me. I did not examine the woman when I saw her - I was too frightened at the dreadful sight. Our front door at 29 Hanbury street is never bolted, and anyone has only to push it open and walk through to the gate at the back yard. Immoral women have at times gone there, and Mrs. Richardson, our landlady, had occasion to keep a closet locked there, but no lock has ever been placed on the front door; at least, I have never seen one, but it is only a fortnight ago that I came to lodge there. I have known people open the passage door and walk through into the yard when they have had no right there. There are about 15 altogether living in the house. Mrs. Davis has made the following statement:- The bell was ringing for six o'clock, and that is how I know the time that my husband went downstairs. He then said to me, “Old woman, I must now go down, for it is time I was off to my work.” He went down, but did not return, as he tells me that when he saw the deceased and the shocking state in which she was, he at once ran off for the police. We never heard any screams, either in the night ot in the morning. I went down myself shortly after, and nearly fainted away at what I saw. The poor woman's throat was cut, and the inside of her body was lying beside her. Some one beside me remarked that the murder was just like the one committed in Buck's row. The other one could not have been such a dreadful sight as this, for the poor woman found this morning was quite ripped open. She was lying in a corner of the yard, on her back, with her legs drawn up. It was just in such a spot that no one could see from the outside, and thus the dead creature might have been lying there for some time. A later account says that last night Hanbury street, Whitechapel, was in an all but impassable state from the crowds which had assembled on the scene of the tragedy. Some thousands of people passed through the locality during the early part of the day, and the police authorities at Commercial street police station had a number of constables drafted from other parts of the metropolis, who, as evening advanced, found themselves busily occupied in moving the people to and fro. Up to half past nine o'clock last night the police at Commercial street were unable to say that their investigations had been attended with success. The Deptford police had, however, made a communication to the effect that a man had been arrested by them under suspicious circumstances. On receipt of this information at Commercial street, Inspector Chandler at once started for Deptford, and up to a late hour last night he had not returned. It is understood, however, that the police do not attach much importance to the arrest. Last night there was a large force of police on duty in the neighbourhood where the murder was committed, one third of the men being in plain clothes, and even those entitled to “leave” were retained. That the public are anxious to second their efforts is testified by the presence on the record at the Commercial street police station of no less than 50 personal statements made with the object of assisting in the work of identification. One officer has been occupied many hours in writing these statements, and up to nine o'clock last night they were being supplemented by others. The police are not permitted to make public this written evidence, of evidence it can be called. A young woman named Lyons, of the class known as “unfortunate,” has stated publicly that at three o'clock yesterday afternoon she met a strange man in Flower and Dean street, and that he asked her to come to the Queen's Head at half past six and drink with him. having obtained from the young woman a promise that she would do so, he disappeared, but was at the house named at the appointed time. While they were conversing Lyons noticed a large knife in the man's right hand trousers pocket, and called another woman's attention to the fact. Lyons was startled by a remark which the stranger addressed to her. “You are about the same style of woman as the one that's murdered,” he said. “What do you know about her?” asked the woman. The man replied, “You are beginning to small a rat. Foxes hunt geese, but they don't always find 'em.” having uttered these word the man hurriedly left. Lyons followed until near Spitalfields Church, and was turning round at this spot and noticing that the woman was behind him, the stranger ran at a swift pace into Church street, and was at once lost to view. Over 200 common lodging houses have been visited by the police in the hope of finding some trace of a man who is mentioned in connexion with the murder, but he has succeeded in evading arrest. The police have reasons for suspecting that he is employed in one of the London sweating dens as a slipper maker, and that as it usual to supply food and lodging in many of those houses, he is virtually in hiding. Though he was a figure well known to many policemen in the Whitechapel district prior to the murder of Mrs. Nicholls in Buck's row, the man has kept himself out of the way since, and this is regarded as a significant circumstance. A statement made to an inspector last evening that a man was heard making use of violent threats towards some woman in a public house in Hanbury street on Friday night is not considered of much importance, as neither of the parties can be identified. The generally accepted theory is that the whole series of murders are the work of one, but a medical opinion is that the knife wounds on the woman found in August in the George yard may after all have been self inflicted. Whether this was so or not, the wounds were not of the kind inflicted on the later victims. The following official telegram was despatched last night to every police station in the metropolis:- “Commercial street, 8.20 p.m. Description of a man wanted, who entered a passage of the house at which the murder was committed with a woman, at two a.m., the 8th. Age 37, height 5ft 7in, rather dark beard and moustache. Dress - short, dark jacket, dark vest and trousers, black scarf, and black felt hat; spoke with a foreign accent.” ANOTHER WOMAN STABBED. At five minutes after eleven o'clock on Saturday forenoon a man attacked a woman in the Spitalfields market while she was passing through. After felling her to the ground with a blow, he began kicking her, and pulled out a knife. Some women who had collected, on seeing the knife, raised such piercing shrieks of “Murder!” that they reached the crowds assembled in Hanbury street, the scene of the murder of the woman Chapman. There was at once a rush for Commercial street, where the market is situate, as it was declared by some that there was another murder, and by others that the murderer had been arrested. The man made furious efforts to reach the woman, from whom he had been separated by some persons who interfered on her behalf. He, however, threw these on one side, fell upon the woman, knife in hand, and inflicted various stabs on her head, cut her forehead, neck, and fingers before he was again pulled off. When he was again pulled off the woman lay motionless - the immense crowd took up the cry of “Murder!” and people who were on the streets raised cries of “Lynch him!” At this juncture the police arrived, arrested the man, and after a while had the woman conveyed on a stretcher to the police station in Commercial street, where she was examined by the surgeon. She was found to be suffering from several wounds, but none of them were considered dangerous. She was subsequently removed to the London Hospital, where she was detained as an in patient. Her assailant is described as a blind man, who sells lace in the streets, and whom she led about from place to place. The blind man is described as having a most ungovernable temper, and he was seen whilst the woman was leading him along to stab her several times in the neck. Blood flowed quickly, and it was at first thoug
ht that another terrible murder had been committed. The affair occurred midway between Buck's row and Hanbury street, where the last two horrible murders have been committed. On Saturday morning a woman named Anne Chapman was found murdered in a yard at the rear of a house in Hanbury street, not far from the spot where the woman Mary Anne Nicholls was found dead. The woman's throat was cut from ear to ear, and she was mutilated in a horrible manner. No disturbance was heard by the people living in the neighbourhood, and it is explained that there is a passage from Hanbury street into the yard in which she was found, and that the public have free access into the premises. A man has been arrested on suspicion at Dartford. There can be little doubt that the murder of the woman identified as Anne Sivvy is the latest of a series committed by the same hand. About twelve months ago a female was found in an East end slum with her throat cut and her body mutilated. Then followed, at a considerable interval it is true, the murder of a woman who was discovered on the stairs of a lodging house in the same district, also with her throat cut and with thirty nine cuts and gashes on her body. A week ot two since humanity was shocked by the fearful butchery of the woman Nicholls, and before the impression of that ghastly atrocity has passed away, the public are horrified by a tragedy even more hideously revolting in its details than any previous one of the group to which it may with reasonable confidence be said to belong. It was at no time a plausible theory that these extraordinary crimes were the work, as alleged, of a gang of ruthless scoundrels of the souteneur class - that is to say, of that too numerous type, the low and brutal rowdies who live on the deplorable earnings of unfortunate women. The opinion that the victims had been so awfully done to death by some ruffian or ruffians of this sort either because they refused to pay the customary blackmail, or through some other mercenary motive, seems to have had no better foundation than the fact that the unhappy victim in each case belonged to the same forlorn sisterhood. But the motive was wholly inadequate. Ruffians of the class described are cruel and merciless, but the violence in which they delight does not vent itself in extremes like those which have made so terrible and so peculiar an addition to the history of crime. Moreover, the “bully” is as cowardly as he is cruel, and has always a provident regard for his neck. It is fairly certain besides that in at least the two previous cases, as well as in that of the murder of last Saturday morning, the poor creatures so awfully hurried into eternity were penniless, and, again, that they were women whose means of living were in every way too squalid and miserable to excite the murderous cupidity of even the most savage and inhuman among the desperadoes who maintain a loafing existence upon the unspeakable impost wrung from the daughters of misfortune. We are convinced that it is necessary to seek elsewhere for the author of these diabolical cuts; we believe also that the mystery of their perpetration centres in a single individual. The supposition that they were committed in revenge or for robbery seems as untenable as the notion that they are the work of a bloodthirsty gang. It does not require finesse of the Allan Poe order to arrive at a definite view in this point, and it is in accord with the obscure but very significant circumstances of the group of barbarities, that the police experts should have decided to chercher l'homme, and to abandon the idea which they are said to have held as to the character and the committal of the atrocities. The criminal nature manifests itself in such an infinity of forms that dogmatic conclusions in such matters are always more or less imprudent and rash. If, however, there was a tragedy or rather a series of tragedies in which specific assumption is justifiable the occasion is that which now more than any other subject engages the public discussion. The coincidences are most strikingly suggestive. Anne Sivvy, or Chapman, was murdered with practically the same elaboration of hideous ferocity as the woman Nicholls and the female slaughtered a little while before. The victim in each case was middle aged, very hard up - it is to be noted that Sivvy, like Nicholls, not having the price of her bed at the common lodging house, went forth in the small hours of the morning to earn a few pence, little thinking they were treading a terrible path to eternal sleep. They were, in plain words, utterly poor and destitute, and desperate; their condition placed them at the mercy of any miscreant prowling abroad under cover of that night which “sees such ill things done and cloaks the doing.” They could not stand upon the order of their going, but were forced by their necessity into the deathtrap set for them. The murderer had evidently selected his victims with a cruel cunning. There is, of course, no dwelling upon the sickening details of his acts. But, again, it is noteworthy now, from one fatal stroke and a few stabs and cuts which make the story of the earlier crime, he proceeded as the bloodthirst grew with impunity, and perhaps the dreadful vanity which exulted in the sensation it had caused, to more shocking exhibitions of his sanguinary appetite. From hacking and stabbing he altered his method to the practice of the common slaughterhouse, till his performance culminated - if, indeed, it has culminated - in the altogether fiendish deed of Saturday last. The mutilation of the victims, especially in the two latest instances, seems as wanton as it is indescribable. No passion or frenzy generated in a sane mind appears sufficient to explain the ghastly ferocity exhibited in the perpetration of these gratuitous savageries. Are we then to conclude that a homicidal maniac is loose among us - a maniac moreover whose murderous madness has a horrible method in it? For the sake of humanity at large it is to be hoped that the general belief that such is the case will be confirmed by the detection in which a panic stricken community is waiting for its deliverance from a monster. Society has had before now to endure similar terrors. The story of Williams, “The Monster,” belongs to London, which was terrified towards a century ago by the doings of an unknown ruffian who prowled about the town, stabbing unprotected females in the streets. He had gratified this propensity several times, with the result that the West end especially was so scared that women and even mend were afraid to venture abroad alone after nightfall, but he was at length arrested, brought to trial, and after a bombastic and blasphemous speech from the dock, sentenced to be hanged, a sentence which, as the “Newgate Calendar” records, was duly carried out. Another case in point is the more extraordinary chapter in the French criminal chronicles which tell of a highly respectable citizen of Dijon, whose pastime it was to ambush in the roads leading into the town, and from that vantage to shoot down such wayfarers as he selected for death. If the gun failed, his knife completed the work. He was an assassin of tragic-comic vein, for he placed his dead in fantastic attitudes, a priest with his spectacles on and his breviary open in his hand, a farmer with his pipe in his mouth, a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other, and so on. In this case also justice was avenged as far as it could be. We seem to be now face to face with a morbid development of a like kind. The impulse of the hideous Hyde in Mr. Stevenson's fiction is more than realised, and the East end of London is panic stricken as the West was with far less reason in the days of our great grandfathers. All eyes are on the police. They are doing their best we have no doubt, and we may be sure they will leave nothing undone to hunt down the wild beast abroad in our midst. At the same time, it is an ugly and discouraging fact that a succession of murders, each committed within brief intervals, each suggesting the same perpetrator, and each occurring within a narrow district of the metropolis, should have up to the present baffled the agents of the law. Should these deeds go “unwhipt of justice,” and remain in the long catalogue of undiscovered crimes, there will be substantial ground for that reorganisation of the London police system which, in the opinion of many people, has long been an importunate necessity.