Henry Moore's Ripper Tour 1889

A walk to Whitechapel.

The London correspondent of Le Figaro, Mr Johnson had a nice walk in Whitechapel, which he recounts as follows. Very often I had the night's quarters of Whitechapel visited, but I went there today during the day and I believe this visit is much more important, especially at this moment, now that the residents are under the impression of movement towards recent crime and now strikes in the streets provide a special case. Led by one of the best detectives, Mr. Moore, to whom I, on the recommendation of the general-superintendent of public safety, Mr. Williamson, had been exposed, I spent three hours walking through that maze, whose lanes, squares and corridors are the headquarters of Jack the Ripper, and I can assure you that I do not regret that fatigue. Mr. Moore, with three of his helpful colleagues, which is led by the director of metropolitan police, Mr. Munro, with the responsibility for resolving the bloody problems, that the title was given to: the secret of Whitechapel, and now it is a problem, says Mr. Moore, because here we miss any information, there the place where the human bodywas found, not as it was said, dressed in a sack, but naked, lying on the side, arms over her chest : It is one of the arches of the railway which is accessible to all, the killer has since thrown his suit, like a lot of security that he would have done. But how is it possible that nobody drew attention? How has she been transported? Among the two adjacent arches slept three people, and they say, not having seen or heard, moreover, is that it's possible, since the indifference among the people, do not have reason to occupy himself with the affairs of others. I will, says Mr. Moore, designate the different places where the bodies were found by and you will be able to judge for yourself how easy it is for the killers to escape our researches. We pass through a maze of streets and alleyways whose insides are atrocious. It's called Blood Avenue, so called because there were so many villains fighting in this place. Besides that, every night in the town, 2000 individuals, the vilest scum of the population, sleep outside the small shop, where milk and eggs are sold, the hollow of a small lender, it is 2000 francs a week profit, but to lend to folks some shillings, for pears, apples and sulfur boxes to buy, which they then through the city back on the man. We are inside a small bar where Mr. Moore is known: the three or four guests who were present considered him with distrust, fear and divided by stabbing their noses in the pots of beer. A glass of gin by us recently, and after Mr. Moore had a few words with the landlord we left. That is, Mr. Moore told me, the robbers club, where they unite every night and keep a sort of crimes fair. They point to themselves and sell them to succeed. I was glad to be there. We come to Mitre Square! a large open area with a pit in the middle, surrounded by a wall where one can relax: this is an open dustbin for all the inhabitants of the square. Two children play in the middle of the hole with things without a name, to strings stretched across with rags hanging out to dry. On 30 September last, they found the corpse of the woman Eddowes. The whole body was maimed, and yet, as usual, nobody heard anything. On the same 30 September was found at the corner of Berner Street, at ten minutes distance from Mitre Square, another corpse, that of Elizabeth Stride: the throat was cut, but Jack the Ripper had certainly not had time to carry out the normal mutilations. Currently we are in the Jewish Quarter, the posters have been in the Hebrew and they find a newspaper in the same language. The front doors are full of ragged children, while women, with strongly marked features of their race, all the dirty magazines, Zola alone is capable of the stench, from which it accumulated rags, bones and fish bones rising to describe smell, plus with that of a thick smoke, vomited by a monumental chimney, where all the waste of this quarter is burned. Mr. Moore asserts that the whole population is honest, yet, he notes, that among the murdered women, was no Jew, which initially led to the assumption that the killer belonged to that religion and some revenge practiced. In that quarter of women are 10 to 12,000 tailors, who work at this moment and have held their meetings in the streets to where no cars could pass. We are proceeding our way to Brick Lane, in a model house, built specifically for workers. On August 7, 1888 was found there in the hallway of the first floor next to the amenities, the corpse of Martha Turner, pierced with 39 stab wounds. Martha Turner lived in that house and the offender was unknown. The stairs of the house, lying outside, it was easy to get. But when a fellow real - claims, which may cause some difficulty. The strangest thing about these murders is, says Mr. Moore, that the killer leaves not the slightest trace of his journey so that one can not explain how he carries out his sad burden. The housing managers, says Mr. Moore, have but little information to give, their tenants are just numbers to them, and they do not want to know them. There are some houses, that sometimes have in one night 500 people. In London there continues to be several houses of prostitution, but the dorms are nothing of Whitechapel: payment of 80 centimes, paid in advance, the very first couple to provide a peaceful night's lodging. In these houses hopes Mr. Moore not sooner or later the killer will get back grasp. Nothing new? he asks the managers, who greet him, their response was not new. I then left Mr. Moore, and he suggested that I come back in the evening, but I confessed that I'd had enough and I thanked him warmly for his kindness, and then, an hour later, I was in the West End feeling like I was awakened from a terrible dream. Much longer will I have eyes that see blood-stained walls and streets - stones, faces, where all vices can be found.

Source: Nieuwe Brielsche Courant, 31 October 1889, Page 4