I found out about the Jack The Ripper Museum only a couple of weeks ago, whilst searching for something else online. Open since 2015, somehow its existence had totally passed me by!
It was a horribly inclement day when my cousin and myself visited. We also took part (maybe against our better judgement) in the Ripper walk, but this was the only day we had available on which to do it.
There were no overground trains at my end, so I had a 20-25 minute walk, through sleet, to the nearest Tube station. By the time I arrived at Tower Hill, clutching my trusty A-Z and cursing to myself like a sailor, sleet had turned to snow and I had that annoying London problem of trying to find a street which had no name displayed on it. Later that day, by the time we did our walk, snow had turned to steady rain and the temperature was -1 degree.
But, before we did the walk, we traversed the museum. Set over five floors, the idea is that you approach your sleuthing with the intention of working out who Jack the Ripper was. It's hardly a novel idea, but it sounded appealing.
The first floor is recreated to look like Mitre Square, where Catherine Eddowes, Jack's second victim, was found, by Police Constable Watkins. It is very atmospheric, but ghoulish moi was a little disappointed by the lack of blood and guts. Read on and you will see how my opinion changed throughout our tour...
On the wall, you see a replica of the original, miss-spelt, graffiti that was left at the crime scene.
The second floor shows how Jack the Ripper's sitting room may have looked. Was he a gentleman? Many think he may have been, although his crimes were far from 'gentle'-abhorrent would be a better way of describing them.
Here is his make-believe cabinet.
Here is his desk, with books on anatomy and surgery on display.
Here is his array of torturous-looking medical instruments and poisons.
His mantelpiece, with a drawing by Walter Sickert, who was one of the most major Ripper suspects, hanging above.
Here is a close look at some information regarding Sickert- he was always the man I liked the most for the position of 'guilty'. Do I still feel the same? To be frank, I'd have to look into it a lot more.
A lock of Mary Kelly's hair. She was his final victim, and what a sad little memento this is. In this room, there are also letters the police received, pertaining to be from the Ripper.
The killer sent a kidney from one of his victims, along with a sinister note...
The third floor shows a mock-up of the police station. I especially loved these original handcuffs, notebook and truncheon. These are the actual items carried by Police Constable Watkins when he found Catherine Eddowes. History really came alive for me here!
Chief Inspector Abbeline at his desk. He led the hunt for the Ripper.
There is so much more to see at the museum- words cannot possibly describe everything, so go and see for yourselves. Between floors, we get newspaper reports and illustrations of the murders along with locations, and comments regarding the social deprivation of the area during that time. Here are sketches of these sad, unfortunate ladies.
Up we go to the kind of room Jack's poverty stricken victims would have lived in. Piped through the speakers is a lady singing the actual song Mary Kelly was heard singing on the day of her death. It's a joyful song and now, with hindsight, hauntingly poignant. These women had a LIFE before Jack took it from them.
On the landing, we find a very scabby window.
This lady has tried to make her humble abode look pretty.
We go downstairs, passing the ground floor shop, which has many reasonably priced Ripper and London themed gifts, down to the morgue. The drawers at the back are for holding cadavers.
Morgue bench.
On the walls are actual autopsy photos of the women, apart from the photograph of Mary Kelly, which is a crime scene image and is horrific. She's the victim who had the most damage committed to her corpse, as she was killed in her room, as opposed to on the street, and Jack was able to take his time in mutilating her. The women all died from having their throats slashed, so would have passed away pretty much instantly (thank the lord for small mercies), with the atrocities to their bodies occurring post-mortem.
You start the tour thinking in terms of discovering who the Ripper was- it's a game with all the players- from the cops to the prostitutes, to the suspects and the witnesses- pieces on a chessboard.
But as you progress the sadness hits home and you realise that the victims were actually real PEOPLE. In particular, they were WOMEN. They had heartbeats and likes and dislikes; thoughts, feelings and the capacity to love. And to hate. Did they hate their lives? Or did they just hate parts of them? Or were they (moderately) content? Maybe in the depths of depression or up one minute and down the next? Did gin really take away all of their worries, or did the hangover exacerbate them tenfold?
We will never know, but we do know that the end to their very un-glamorous lives was just about as squalid as it could be. Oh, and I'd seen enough blood and guts for one day.
We went on the Ripper walk, but bailed out at The Ten Bells, ten minutes from the end, as the weather was just hideous- wet underfoot with a persistent downpour falling from the skies, and my cousin was really suffering from jet lag. But we enjoyed the tour, saw enough to be satisfied, and I'm planning on returning to do the museum and the walk- just this time when the weather's warmer, lighter and better!
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