The Diary of Jack the Ripper - The Chilling Confessions of James Maybrick

by Harrison, Shirley

  Within minutes, several police officers and bystanders gathered in the yard, which was still so dark that a match was needed to light the gruesome scene. Elizabeth Stride was lying on her back behind the gate. The killer was gone.

  * * *

  At the same time as the Ripper was escaping from Dutfield’s Yard, Catharine Eddowes, the 46-year-old daughter of a Wolverhampton tin worker, was being released from Bishopsgate police station in the City of London. Kate Eddowes was a ‘regular jolly sort’. Earlier in the day she had pawned a pair of boots to pay for a cup of tea, sugar and food. But by 8.30 p.m. she was drunk and in custody for causing a disturbance by pretending to be a fire engine. She left the police station at 1 a.m. when it was ‘too late to get any more drink’, said PC George Hutt.

  ‘Good night, old cock,’ she called and then turned left in the direction of Houndsditch. About thirty minutes later she must have been by the Duke’s Place entrance to a covered alley called Church Passage, leading into Mitre Square.

  Was it then that her path crossed with that of her killer? If he had left Berner Street, turned left into Commercial Road and left again along Whitechapel High Street in the direction of Middlesex Street, he could have continued into Aldgate and crossed the divide between the Metropolitan Police and the City Police.

  In 1965, Tom Cullen retraced the killer’s steps for his book An Autumn of Terror. He said: ‘It took me exactly ten minutes (this was without taking advantage of the short cuts which may have been known to the killer).’

  At about 1.35 a.m. Catharine Eddowes was seen talking to a man at Church Passage — he identified her later by her clothes. This witness was a Jewish cigarette salesman, Joseph Lawende. He had left The Imperial Club in Duke’s Place, with Harry Harris and Joseph Hyam Levy at about 1.30 a.m. In a report in the Times on October 2nd, he described the man as about 30 years old, 5’7”, with a fair moustache and a cloth cap. He said the man had his hand on Catharine Eddowes’ chest but they did not appear to be arguing. He doubted that he would recognise him again but nevertheless he was protected from the press prior to the inquest on October 4th and 11th 1888.

  At 1.45 a.m. Catharine Eddowes’ crumpled body was found by Police Constable Edward Watkins. The City police surgeon Dr F. Gordon Brown arrived on the scene just after 2 a.m. Once again it seems the Ripper had lured his prey into a corner and this time his ‘work’ was uninterrupted. Catharine Eddowes was strangled first and then when dead, her body frenziedly slashed and torn apart. The left kidney and womb were removed, although Dr Brown said that these would serve no medical purpose. Dr Brown thought that the injuries showed signs of medical knowledge but not surgical skill.

  For the first time the face, too, was mutilated and two puzzling inverted V-shaped incisions made in the cheeks. But in the light of the Diary all makes sense — the cuts on the cheeks referred to merely as triangular flaps could, in fact, have formed the M that was Maybrick’s ‘mark’.

  The thrill she gave me was unlike the others, I cut deep deep deep. Her nose annoyed me so I cut it off, had a go at her eyes, left my mark, could not get the bitches head off. I believe now it is impossible to do so. The whore never screamed. I took all I could away with me. I am saving it for a rainy day ha ha.

  The M is clearly visible in a sketch made at the time. It was discovered in the basement of London Hospital and eventually published for the first time in its magazine, the London Hospital Gazette, in 1966 illustrating an article by Professor Francis Camps.

  The police list of Catharine Eddowes’ clothes is a forlorn affair. They were old and dirty. A black cloth jacket trimmed with imitation fur, a black straw bonnet, a man’s white vest, a man’s lace-up boots, no drawers or stays but three very old skirts and a grey stuff petticoat, all marked her out as a vagrant.

  Her possessions were numerous and assorted. The police list included among other items:

  1 tin box containing tea

  1 tin box containing sugar

  1 small tooth comb

  1 red leather cigarette case with white metal fittings

  1 piece of old white apron

  1 mustard tin containing pawn tickets found beside the body

  1 tin match box, empty.

  The Times reported on October 6th that one of the matchboxes contained some cotton. Could this have been the clue referred to in the Diary by Maybrick the cotton merchant?

  did I not leave him a very good clue,

  Nothing is mentioned, of this I am sure,

  ask clever Abberline, could tell you more.

  And then there was the ‘one tin match box, empty’. It is there in the Diary:

  I showed no fright and indeed no light

  damn it, the tin box was empty…

  Sweet sugar and tea,

  could have paid my small fee.

  But instead I did flee

  and by way showed my glee

  By eating cold kidney for supper

  bastard

  Abberline

  bonnett

  hides all

  clue

  clever

  will tell you more…

  Sir Jim trip over

  fear

  have it near

  redeem it near

  case

  poste haste

  He believes I will trip over

  but I have no fear

  I cannot redeem it here…[*]

  Am I not a clever fellow

  But the full police list of Catherine Eddowes’ possessions was not published. The empty tin box was un-noticed until the appearance in 1987 of the books by Donald Rumbelow and Martin Fido. No one but the writer of the Diary could have reproduced that description in 1888.

  This, more than almost any other piece of evidence, confirms the theory that the Diary is either a modern forgery — or it must be genuine!

  * * *

  There has always been a strong division of opinion about what happened next. All that has been known for certain is that at 2.20 a.m. on the night of Catharine Eddowes’ murder, PC Alfred Long passed down Goulston Street which runs north from Whitechapel High Street, parallel to Middlesex Street. He saw nothing remarkable. But on his return at 2.55 a.m. he did notice a crumpled rag lying at the foot of the stairway leading up to 108-119 Wentworth’s Model Dwellings. This was a piece of Catharine Eddowes’ blood-stained apron. The murderer had, without doubt, passed that way. The stairway itself was unlit but in the gloom PC Alfred Long, of the Metropolitan Police, saw some smudged graffiti on the wall which he had not noticed before. He copied it down but admitted later at the inquest that he might have misspelt the word ‘Jews’.

  His note read: ‘The Juwes are the men That Will not be Blamed for nothing.’

  This echoes the mis-spellings, solecisms and the curiously ill-educated turns of phrase in parts of the Diary.

  The City police recorded the message differently as: ‘The Juwes are not The men That Will be Blamed for nothing’.

  The City CID instructed that the message be photographed immediately and then obliterated. After all, it was their murder. But when the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, Sir Charles Warren, arrived on the scene at 5 a.m. he agreed with Superintendent Thomas Arnold that the anti-Semitic message could cause trouble with the Jewish tenants in the building and he personally rubbed it out.

  In a report to the Home Office of November 6th 1888, Metropolitan Police Commissioner Sir Charles Warren enclosed a copy of the writing on the wall. The form and layout of the words had been exactly reproduced, so it is reasonable to assume it is a good copy but it is probably wishful thinking to hope that it is an accurate reproduction of the handwriting too since it is similar to the more controlled passages of the Diary!

  Crime writers have devoted a great deal of energy to the task of solving the Goulston Street mystery. Most believe that it was indeed the work of the killer. It has been taken to prove that the writer was anti-Jewish, that he was Jewish, that the words have a mystical meaning, that they are a Masonic cod
e. But if you look at the story as told in the Diary, then it was all much simpler than that.

  I had to laugh, they have me down as left handed, a Doctor, a slaughterman and a Jew. Very well, if they are to insist that I am a Jew then a Jew I shall be.

  And then, almost naively:

  I wonder if they enjoyed my funny Jewish joke?

  These taunting games were to be but a prelude. For the very next day, Monday October 1st, was the day the world would first hear the name of Jack the Ripper.

  BEFORE I AM FINISHED ALL ENGLAND WILL KNOW THE NAME I HAVE GIVEN MYSELF.

  On October 1st 1888, the Daily News published the text of a letter in its first edition. This letter, written in red ink, was to become perhaps the most infamous letter in the history of crime. It was either the genius of a self-publicising killer, or, as many Ripper buffs believe, the work of a practical joker.

  This ‘Dear Boss’ letter is important to us because the Diary’s author admits adopting the name of Jack the Ripper. In fact the entries on this topic are particularly convincing because originally Maybrick did not want to call himself Jack the Ripper — he preferred to be known as ‘Sir Jim’, using this throughout the Diary. But new evidence, recently discovered, and detailed in Sue and Andy Parlour’s book Jack the Ripper: The Whitechapel Murders, suggests that the ‘trade name’ of ‘Jack the Ripper’ was already circulating around the streets of Whitechapel. In other words it seems that Maybrick did not invent the name, he merely adopted it and publicised it.

  All whores will feel the edge of Sir Jims shining knife. I regret I did not give myself that name, curse it, I prefer it much much more than the one I have given.

  Either way, had the letter not been signed ‘Jack the Ripper’, the Whitechapel murders might have been relegated in time to a place alongside the many equally horrific crimes catalogued in Scotland Yard’s Black Museum or on show in Madame Tussaud’s Chamber of Horrors. Not until that letter, addressed to the Central News Agency, dated September 25th, did the name of ‘Jack the Ripper’ ricochet around the world.

  Dear Boss,

  I keep on hearing the police have caught me but they won’t fix me just yet. I have laughed when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track. That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits. I am down on whores and I shant quit ripping them till I do get buckled. Grand work the last job was. I gave the lady no time to squeal. How can they catch me now. I love my work and want to start again. You will soon hear of me with my funny little games. I saved some of the proper red stuff in a ginger beer bottle over the last job to write with but it went thick like glue and I cant use it. Red ink is fit enough I hope ha ha. The next job I do I shall clip the ladys ears off and send to the police officers just for jolly wouldnt you.

  Keep this letter back till I do a bit more work, then give it out straight. My knife’s so nice and sharp I want to get to work right away if I get a chance. Good luck.

  Yours truly

  Jack the Ripper

  Dont mind me giving the trade name

  A second post script in red crayon ran down the side of the letter and read:

  wasnt good enough to post this before I got all the red ink off my hands curse it. No luck yet. They say I’m a doctor now. ha ha.

  The letter reached the Central News Agency on Thursday September 27th and was forwarded to police headquarters at Scotland Yard on Saturday September 29th. A covering letter from the editor to Chief Constable Adolphus Williamson said: ‘The editor presents his compliments to Mr Williamson and begs to inform him that the enclosed was sent to the Central News [Agency] two days ago & was treated as a joke.’

  The text of the letter was published in the 2 a.m. edition of the Liverpool Daily Post and in the 5 a.m. edition of the Daily News in London on Monday October 1st. (Some details of the murders had already appeared in the Sunday papers.) That same morning the Central News Agency received a postcard written in red crayon and postmarked October 1st. Its handwriting matched that of the letter. Posted in the East End of London the card referred to the two murders that had occurred within less than an hour of each other in Whitechapel early on Sunday September 30th, and said:

  I was not codding dear old Boss when I gave you the tip, youll hear about Saucy Jackys work tomorrow double event this time number one squealed a bit couldnt finish straight off. had not time to get ears for police thanks for keeping last letter back till I got to work again.

  Jack the Ripper

  The text of the card was printed in the London Star in the 1 p.m. edition on October 1st.

  The detail that one of the ears of the Mitre Street victim was partially severed was known to very few people on the Sunday immediately following the crime and was only widely publicised when the story made all the newspapers on Monday. Because of the references to ear-ripping — as well as the same mannerisms, handwriting and the chilling signature — it was assumed at the time that the letter and card must have been written by the same person.

  The idea has taken root today that the card, too, was written by a copy-cat and that in those days of frequent and excellent postal services it would have been quite possible for a hoaxer to read the 5 a.m. newspaper and send a prank card to make the midday edition. Certainly Philip Sugden, who expresses grave doubts about the authenticity of any of the Ripper letters, says that news of the double event spread like wildfire throughout the East End in the early hours of Sunday morning. In his view it would have been easy to imitate the letter.

  This may be true, but only the text of the first ‘Dear Boss’ letter had appeared in printed form. Not until October 3rd did the police issue a facsimile poster of both letter and card, printed in red. This was then sent to every police station in the country, indicating that those in charge of the case did, indeed, view the communications seriously.

  Stewart Evans and Paul Gainey say in their book Jack the Ripper, the First American Serial Killer that the London Chief of Police telegraphed to San Francisco asking the Hibernia Bank to supply the handwriting of one of their suspects Dr Francis T. Tumbelty to them. Paul Feldman rightly asks, ‘why compare samples of handwriting with letters that were believed to be forgeries?’ The police on the spot clearly thought they were genuine.

  In hindsight, Philip Sugden feels that publishing the facsimile was a tactical mistake. Together, the letter and the card provoked a flood of about 2,000 copycat communications, most of which have never been fully investigated and have been at the centre of fierce debate ever since.

  Paul Feldman, with typical enthusiasm, hurled his research team at the letters. He scrutinised their contents more thoroughly than almost any other researcher and the results of his determination have challenged previous theories. He has made sense of some letters which appeared of little importance and unearthed some exciting new material.

  I had had serious doubts myself about tackling these letters because it would be so easy to venture into such a minefield and unwittingly manipulate whatever information is there to support a favourite theory. This is known as ‘affirmation bias’ and Professor Canter warned me not to fall into this trap! I knew that we would be accused of attempting to compare a ‘forged’ Diary with ‘forged’ letters. The fact is that no one — not even the most learned historians — really knows the truth of this matter.

  We were in a unique position being in possession of a manuscript which purported to be by the writer of at least some of the Ripper correspondence. We had an opportunity not to be missed. Careful comparison of one with the others might give us fresh insight into the Whitechapel murders through the eyes of the killer.

  Of course, we were faced with a problem because the handwriting of the Diary and the original ‘Dear Boss’ letters did not appear to be compatible! Certainly Sue Iremonger, our document analyst, who had already begun a detailed study of the letters in the police files, did not believe they were. However, David Forshaw has suggested that the Diary could reflect the true inner feelings of its author whereas the letter and
card — which he also believes could be in the same hand — are contrived to impress. I was more interested and puzzled by a question that so far no one has really resolved. If the Diary is an old forgery why did not its writer attempt to emulate the writing of the Dear Boss letter? And if it is a modern forgery, why claim authorship of a letter and card believed by many to be a hoax?

  * * *

  At 12.45, on the morning after Liz Stride and Catherine Eddowes died, a short, one inch wide, round-ended knife was found outside Mr Christmas’ shop in Whitechapel Road. Police surgeon Dr George Bagster Phillips claimed that this knife might have been the murder weapon and could have belonged to Elizabeth Stride; many prostitutes carried knives for self protection.

  Until now, researchers have mistakenly dated the discovery of the knife to two days before the murders but the Diary seems to have it right again.

  My shiny knife

  the whore’s knife

  The Diarist is making the point — now accepted by most Ripper historians — that the knife which killed Stride was not the knife that killed the other women. There were two knives, the second being found in the very same postal district from which the ‘Saucy Jacky’ postcard was sent later that morning.