Complete History of Jack the Ripper

by Philip Sudgen

  Under the pseudonym ‘Dagonet’ Sims wrote a regular piece for The Referee in which he frequently adverted to the suicide in the Thames. Thus, in July 1902, he assured his readers that during the course of their inquiries the police reduced the number of suspects to seven and then, ‘by a further exhaustive inquiry’, to just three. They were ‘about to fit these three people’s movements in with the dates of the various murders when the one and only genuine Jack saved further trouble by being found drowned in the Thames, into which he had flung himself, a raving lunatic, after the last and most appalling mutilation of the whole series. But prior to this discovery the name of the man found drowned was bracketed with two others as a possible Jack, and the police were in search of him alive when they found him dead.’ Returning to the theme a year later, Sims wrote that ‘no one who saw the victim of Miller’s Court as she was found ever doubted that the deed was that of a man in the last stage of a terrible form of insanity . . . A little more than a month later the body of the man suspected by the chiefs at the Yard, and by his own friends, who were in communication with the Yard, was found in the Thames. The body had been in the water about a month. I am betraying no confidence in making this statement, because it has been published by an official who had an opportunity of seeing the Home Office Report, Major Arthur Griffiths, one of her late Majesty’s inspectors of prisons.’ If Sims is to be believed the case was closed. He never admitted to any doubt in the matter. ‘Jack the Ripper was known, was identified, and is dead,’ he declared in 1903. ‘Let him rest.’5

  Major Arthur Griffiths, writing in Mysteries of Police and Crime in 1898, was much more circumspect. ‘The outside public,’ he began, ‘may think that the identity of . . . Jack the Ripper was never revealed. So far as actual knowledge goes, this is undoubtedly true. But the police, after the last murder, had brought their investigations to the point of strongly suspecting several persons, all of them known to be homicidal lunatics, and against three of these they held very plausible and reasonable grounds of suspicion.’

  He described but did not name the three suspects. One, a known lunatic, was a Polish Jew. He was at large in Whitechapel at the time of the murders and was afterwards committed to an asylum. Another was an insane Russian doctor. Formerly a convict, both in Siberia and England, he was accustomed to carry surgical knives and other instruments about with him and, during the period of the murders, ‘was in hiding, or, at least, his whereabouts were never exactly known.’ The cases against these men, although based on ‘certain colourable facts’, were weak. Against the third suspect, however, ‘the suspicion . . . was stronger, and there was every reason to believe that his own friends entertained grave doubts about him.’ This man was also a doctor. He was insane or ‘on the borderland of insanity’. He disappeared after the Miller’s Court murder. And his body was found floating in the Thames on the last day of the year. ‘It is at least a strong presumption,’ concluded Griffiths guardedly, ‘that Jack the Ripper died or was put under restraint after the Miller’s Court affair, which ended this series of crimes.’6

  The police files were closed to the public. So there – for more than sixty years – the story of the drowned doctor rested.

  Then, in 1959, the curtain of secrecy that had veiled the Thames suicide for so long was at last torn aside. The man who did it was Dan Farson, the journalist and television presenter, but it was all an unlooked for accident. At the time Farson was staying with Lady Rose McLaren in North Wales and he happened to mention that he was in the midst of preparing a television investigation on the mystery of Jack the Ripper. ‘That’s an extraordinary coincidence,’ said Lady McLaren. She explained that they were going to visit her mother-in-law, the Dowager Lady Aberconway, that very afternoon. And Lady Aberconway was a daughter of Sir Melville Macnaghten, who had been the Assistant Commissioner in charge of the CID from 1903 to 1913.

  ‘A few hours later at Maenan Hall,’ Farson afterwards recalled, ‘I explained my interest to Christabel Aberconway and she was kind enough to give me her father’s private notes which she had copied out soon after his death. At the time I hardly realized the discovery that lay in my hands . . .’7 What Farson was holding, in fact, was a copy of a draft report prepared by Macnaghten as Chief Constable of the CID in 1894. It was this draft that Griffiths had copied from in 1898 and to which Sims had alluded in 1903. It contained details, with names, of three men against whom the police held ‘very reasonable suspicion’ and it is still one of the most important documents that we possess on the identity of Jack the Ripper.

  Farson’s programmes were transmitted by Associated Rediffusion in the series Farson’s Guide to the British in November 1959. Once he had been given the name of the man who had committed suicide it was, of course, a relatively simple matter for Farson to turn up his death certificate at Somerset House. It was displayed on the television screen but, in deference to a request of Lady Aberconway, Farson blanked out the name. He released only the suspect’s initials, M. J. D. It was a futile gesture for once the Macnaghten notes had been publicized on television there was little possibility of keeping their full contents a secret for long. Indeed, in a letter to The New Statesman of 7 November 1959, Lady Aberconway herself drew attention to the existence of her father’s notes. Tom Cullen published the full text – insofar as it treated of the three main suspects – in 1965. His text also followed Lady Aberconway’s copy of Sir Melville’s draft. Then the official copy of Macnaghten’s final report, which had all the while been slumbering undisturbed amongst the closed case papers at Scotland Yard, was also released. Robin Odell published the relevant section of this document in 1966.8 There are significant differences between the Aberconway and official versions. So, before examining their contents, we will need to understand the relationship between the two.

  Melville Macnaghten joined the Metropolitan Police as Assistant Chief Constable of the CID in June 1889, too late to participate in the Ripper inquiry. It was said of him, indeed, that he owned to only two disappointments in his life. One was that he was turned out of the Eton Eleven before a match with Harrow and the other was that he became a detective six months after the Ripper committed suicide and ‘never had a go at that fascinating individual’.9 In 1890 he was promoted to Chief Constable and in 1903 to Assistant Commissioner in charge of CID, an office he held for ten years. He was knighted in 1908 and died in 1921.

  On 13 February 1894 a series of sensational articles began in the Sun identifying the Ripper with a certain Thomas Cutbush. The Sun’s suspect had been arraigned at the London County Sessions in 1891 on charges of maliciously wounding one girl and attempting to wound another, and he had been pronounced insane and sentenced to be detained during Her Majesty’s pleasure. But he was not the Whitechapel murderer and the whole purpose of Macnaghten’s report was to refute the Sun’s claims. The official report is marked ‘confidential’ and dated 23 February 1894. No associated papers have survived. It seems probable, nonetheless, that it was prepared upon the instructions of the Chief Commissioner in response to an appeal for information from the Home Office respecting the statements being broadcast in the Sun.

  The document held by Macnaghten’s descendants has been several times discussed10 and there is no need to enter into the full ramifications of its history here. It appears to have been Macnaghten’s original draft and it passed, after Lady Macnaghten’s death in 1929, to Julia Donner, their eldest daughter. In 1950 Philip Loftus apparently saw it in the possession of Gerald Melville Donner, Julia’s son. Although, twenty-two years later, Loftus retained only the haziest impressions as to the document’s contents, he did remember that it was ‘in Sir Melville’s handwriting on official paper, rather untidy and in the nature of rough jottings.’11 Gerald died in India in 1968 and the present whereabouts of the draft are not known. By a lucky chance, however, the text was preserved by Christabel Aberconway, Julia Donner’s younger sister, for Christabel made a copy of her father’s notes, evidently in the early 1930s. It was this copy that
was made available to Farson and Cullen.

  Well, what does Sir Melville tell us? The relevant section of Lady Aberconway’s copy of the draft reads:

  A much more rational and workable theory, to my way of thinking, is that the ‘rippers’ brain gave way altogether after his awful glut in Millers Court and that he then committed suicide, or, as a less likely alternative, was found to be so helplessly insane by his relatives, that they, suspecting the worst, had him confined in some Lunatic Asylum.

  No one ever saw the Whitechapel murderer (unless possibly it was the City P. C. who was on a beat near Mitre Square) and no proof could in any way ever be brought against anyone, although very many homicidal maniacs were at one time, or another, suspected. I enumerate the cases of 3 men against whom Police held very reasonable suspicion. Personally, after much careful & deliberate consideration, I am inclined to exonerate the last 2, but I have always held strong opinions regarding no 1., and the more I think the matter over, the stronger do these opinions become. The truth, however, will never be known, and did indeed, at one time lie at the bottom of the Thames, if my conjections [sic] be correct.

  No. 1. Mr M. J. Druitt a doctor of about 41 years of age & of fairly good family, who disappeared at the time of the Miller’s Court murder, and whose body was found floating in the Thames on 31st Dec: i.e. 7 weeks after the said murder. The body was said to have been in the water for a month, or more – on it was found a season ticket between Blackheath & London. From private information I have little doubt but that his own family suspected this man of being the Whitechapel murderer; it was alleged that he was sexually insane.

  No 2. Kosminski, a Polish Jew, who lived in the very heart of the district where the murders were committed. He had become insane owing to many years indulgence in solitary vices. He had a great hatred of women, with strong homicidal tendencies. He was (and I believe still is) detained in a lunatic asylum about March 1889. This man in appearance strongly resembled the individual seen by the City P.C. near Mitre Square.

  No: 3. Michael Ostrog, a mad Russian doctor & a convict & unquestionably a homicidal maniac. This man was said to have been habitually cruel to women, & for a long time was known to have carried about with him surgical knives & other instruments; his antecedents were of the very worst & his whereabouts at the time of the Whitechapel murders could never be satisfactorily accounted for. He is still alive.12

  The corresponding passage of the final report, preserved in the Scotland Yard files at the Public Record Office, reads:

  A much more rational theory is that the murderer’s brain gave way altogether after his awful glut in Miller’s Court, and that he immediately committed suicide, or, as a possible alternative, was found to be so hopelessly mad by his relations, that he was by them confined in some asylum.

  No one ever saw the Whitechapel murderer: many homicidal maniacs were suspected, but no shadow of proof could be thrown on any one. I may mention the cases of 3 men, any one of whom would have been more likely than Cutbush to have committed this series of murders:-

  (1) A Mr M. J. Druitt, said to be a doctor & of good family, who disappeared at the time of the Miller’s Court murder, & whose body (which was said to have been upwards of a month in the water) was found in the Thames on 31st December – or about 7 weeks after that murder. He was sexually insane and from private information I have little doubt but that his own family believed him to have been the murderer.

  (2) Kosminski, a Polish Jew, & resident in Whitechapel. This man became insane owing to many years indulgence in solitary vices. He had a great hatred of women, specially of the prostitute class, & had strong homicidal tendencies; he was removed to a lunatic asylum about March 1889. There were many circumstances connected with this man which made him a strong ‘suspect’.

  (3) Michael Ostrog, a Russian doctor, and a convict, who was subsequently detained in a lunatic asylum as a homicidal maniac. This man’s antecedents were of the worst possible type, and his whereabouts at the time of the murders could never be ascertained.13

  M. J. Druitt was Sir Melville’s principal suspect. Since 1959 he has inspired a great deal of research and today we probably know much more about him than the police did at the time. The details of his career have been published many times14 so a brief summary will suffice here.

  Montague John Druitt, the second son of a surgeon, William Druitt of Wimborne in Dorset, was born on 15 August 1857. He was educated at Winchester and New College, Oxford, and graduated in 1880 with a third class honours degree in classics.

  Upon leaving university, Druitt took a teaching post at a boarding school at 9 Eliot Place, Blackheath. This establishment prepared boys for the universities, the army and the professions. Its headmaster, George Valentine, lost little time in introducing Druitt to the local elite. In 1881 he proposed his new master for membership of the Blackheath Hockey Club and in the same year Druitt began to play for the Morden Cricket Club of Blackheath.

  A year later Druitt embarked on a second career in the law. On 17 May 1882 he was admitted to the Inner Temple. He financed his studies by borrowing against a £500 legacy of his father and, on 29 April 1885, was called to the Bar. The Law List entry for 1886 states that Druitt was of the Western Circuit and the Winchester Sessions. In 1887 he was recorded as a special pleader for the Western Circuit and Hampshire, Portsmouth and Southampton Assizes.

  Druitt’s last years were marred by tragedy. His father died of a heart attack in 1885 and his mother, Ann (née Harvey) Druitt, subsequently slipped into mental illness and was admitted to the Brooke Asylum in Clapton in July 1888. Yet by that time Druitt himself seems to have been financially secure. He taught at a respected private school and his work as a special pleader was lucrative – at least he left an estate worth £2,600, more than can be accounted for by his father’s bequest, a posthumous inheritance of £1,083 from his mother and his earnings as a teacher. His social standing, moreover, was considerable. When Morden Cricket Club merged in 1885 with the Blackheath Cricket, Football and Lawn Tennis Co. Druitt became a director, being appointed treasurer and honorary secretary. His fellow directors included Rowland Hill, one of England’s most renowned rugby footballers, Dr Lennard Stokes, a distinguished sportsman and captain of the England rugby team, and R. H. Poland, a wealthy fur broker. In 1883 Druitt was nominated for membership of the MCC by C. R. Seymour, an Old Harrovian and barrister who played for MCC and Hampshire and who would become a Wiltshire and Hampshire JP, and by the celebrated cricketer Vernon Royle, then a Hertfordshire curate and assistant master at Elstree School. He was elected on 26 May 1884 and his subscriptions were fully paid up at the time of his death. In both the MCC Candidates’ and Members’ Books Druitt’s address is recorded as 9 Eliot Place, Blackheath.

  Druitt’s suicide at the end of 1888 must, therefore, have come as a profound shock to many of his acquaintances. Commenting upon it, the Southern Guardian of 5 January 1889 noted that he was ‘well known and much respected in the neighbourhood. He was a barrister of bright talent, he had a promising future before him, and his untimely end is deeply deplored.’

  Druitt’s body was found floating in the Thames off Thorneycroft’s Wharf, Chiswick, by Henry Winslade, a waterman out in his boat, at about one o’clock p.m. on Monday, 31 December 1888. He brought the body ashore and notified the police. PC George Moulson 216T, who searched the dead man, found that he was fully dressed except for a hat and collar. His possessions included £2 17s. 2d. in cash; two cheques on the London and Provincial Bank, one for £50, the other for £16; a first-class season ticket from Blackheath to London on the South Eastern Railway; the second half of a return ticket, Hammersmith to Charing Cross, dated 1 December; a silver watch and a gold chain with a spade-guinea attached; a pair of kid gloves and a white handkerchief. The body was rather decomposed and had obviously been in the water for some time but there were no marks of injury upon it. In each pocket of the top coat PC Moulson discovered four large stones. Although there were no other papers or letters on
the body, the cheques must have carried Druitt’s name. William Druitt, a Bournemouth solicitor and Montague’s elder brother, was eventually contacted and subsequently identified the corpse.15

  What blackness of the soul induced Montague Druitt to take his life we cannot tell. We do know that he was discharging his social duties at least as late as 19 November because on that day the minutes of a Blackheath Cricket, Football and Lawn Tennis Co. board meeting record that he proposed that ‘an acre of land be taken behind the grand stand at a similar proportionate rent to that paid for the present land.’ But the only evidence directly bearing upon the cause of his suicide was presented at the inquest. It was held before Dr Thomas Diplock at the Lamb Tap, Chiswick, on Wednesday, 2 January 1889, and concluded that Druitt took his own life whilst of unsound mind. Unfortunately the coroner’s papers have not survived. Our knowledge of the testimony given, therefore, rests almost entirely upon a report in the Acton, Chiswick, and Turnham Green Gazette of 5 January. The key witness was William Druitt:

  William H. Druitt said he lived at Bournemouth, and that he was a solicitor. The deceased was his brother, who was 31 last birthday. He was a barrister-at-law, and an assistant master in a school at Blackheath. He had stayed with witness at Bournemouth for a night towards the end of October. Witness heard from a friend on the 11th of December that deceased had not been heard of at his chambers for more than a week. Witness then went to London to make inquiries, and at Blackheath he found that deceased had got into serious trouble at the school, and had been dismissed. That was on the 30th of December. Witness had deceased’s things searched where he resided, and found a paper addressed to him (produced). The Coroner read the letter, which was to this effect: – ‘Since Friday I felt I was going to be like mother, and the best thing for me was to die.’ Witness, continuing, said deceased had never made any attempt on his life before. His mother became insane in July last. He had no other relative.